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lynxfang · 1 year

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(Cw: injury description, death, some body horror ig, existentialism, lynx's dumb headcanons)

Gore dripped slowly down the slick, blue blade. A tear slipped down the cold cheek of the devil who lay there all wreathed in red and crowned if his broken horns. The sword had come down too hard upon his shoulder, and he hadn't been able to grab for the blade that he and scott had tossed aside in an act of virtue and honor. Their fists and claws had been all the weapon they'd needed... if the meteor hadn't struck when he had. The thick, acrid scent of burned fish swam through his nose as he cast his crimson eyes to the corpse of the merfolk who lay before him, wreathed in his own loser's crown of blazing laurels. A halo of blistering lava bubbled and popped as it seemed into the ground around the body. Scott hadn't even had a chance to grab their sword. Their legs had given out under them as the heat boiled their very will. Webbed hands were clasped around gills in a final act of desperate gasping, the smoke choking the air from lungs and gills alike.

Martyn felt the thrill filling his veins with a laugh. It was a hot, blazing pleasure that ran through his blood like lightning. It burned like pain, but it never did hurt. Others had said it hurt whenever you stole the time from another, but that wasn't true. It only hurt because they let themselves feel bad about it. He wouldn't do that. It was a death match after all.

Webbed hands twisted by the sea that gripped the blade losened their hold, and he only barely heard the sword fall to the red-stained grass beneath his feet. His boots had long since come off after his last death when he'd found they confined the large, webbed feet too tight. He clenched clawed toes into the wet grass. His arms felt heavy. Too heavy, and Martyn had to fight to stay upright as he laughed. No one was there to hear him laugh, but he threw his gold maned head back, every gasp of laughter making the pufferfish scales expand and flex under his skin, puffing up like the pauldrons of warrior. He laughed louder than he ever had before. Skizz had complimented his laugh on day one, hadn't he? Oh, how Martyn was glad Skizz had reminded him to laugh. Where was he now? With those listeners? Watchers? Taking his place among the contestants for the next match? Would Martyn join them then, too?

He sloughed the jacket from his shoulders, the banner of a long-lost land he could hardly forget flowing behind him like a scarf of blood from his waist. He flexed his claws- new additions after joining Scott- and looked down at those fishscaled hands. Were they stained red because of the blood he spilt? Or was it simply his scales matching his name? Filthy reds.

As he took a step forward, he lurched forward with an unnaturally long stride, feeling his muscles and flesh stretch with his motions like elastic stretched to its limits. His shoulder pulsed with his huffing breath. The fissures glowed purple, but he tried to ignore them. The time ticked down. The sand trickled through the neck.

That's my time.

He watched as every second passed in the pulse of his fissures and the beat of his heart. I need more time. He climbed the hill, every step more awkward than the last. It was like his legs didnt fit his hips anymore. He tasted the air, checked the tab. There had to be more time. Surely. He had drawn his blade with thirty minutes left. But now, Martyn wandered that familiar land for an hour. Maybe it was an hour? It was aimless and tired and hungry. Every second did not pass as a second, but as a beat of a time starved heart. Twenty four hours down to thirty minutes. I want my time back.

He broke into a sprint, tumbling down onto all fours. Drool (or was it blood?) Dripped down his chin as he scaled the towers, raced along the skynet, and over the hills. He scrambled around TNT craters. Had the meteor made those, too? The cake had gone stale. The bread had gone moldy. "Time... I need time. No, no, no, NO!" He snarled, his voice wet with bloodlust. After everything, he still LOST. He wasn't losing, no... no. But he watched as he lost. He stood before the hourglass, and watched red sand trickle down.

"CRUEL, YOU ARE CRUEL!" He snarled to the heavens, time-addled mind only forming words out of rage as he swiped with his claws at the sky. He couldn't hear their laughter. But he knew they laughed. They laughed and watched and listened and he had to wait. Is this how Grian felt while he buried Scar? Is this how Scott had felt before the watchers, in their infinate "mercy" slew him with a snap of their proverbial fingers? And Pearl? Did she relish the lonesome, or did she too curse the cruelty of those damn voyeuristic bastards overhead.

"Ren... Ren," he muttered, barely recalling whose name it is he called for as he held the tattered banner in his claws. "Scott... I..." He wasn't sorry. Betrayal had been in his blood since before day one.

Inthelittlewood Ran Out of Time.

#trafficblr #limited life spoilers #limited life martyn #mean gills martyn #inthelittlewood #i had feelings about Martyn's win that I needed to get out of my brain #best LL pov (besides maybe Scott I think)#congrats Martyn #have some angsty feelings of my hc for c!martyn descending into a frenzy after killing his besties #love all the lore in this story #and how none of it is scripted #fic #trafficblr blurb #random lil fic #sorry to followers who don't like the life series #and to my tma followers #but this series took over my brain for a sec

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ballad-of-the-lamb · 4 months

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What are the Lamb's thoughts as they went through their cult life? How does a day in their cult go? (Love the art so much! Hope you have a lovely day!)

#cult of the lamb narinder #cotl narilamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #thank u guys so much for all the love and support!!#to the person who said they wanted to know more of the story too here you go ;;]#there's lots of story and lore to uncover #it's just about asking the right questions #also woah my wrist hurt after that one something nasty

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egophiliac · 7 months

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"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE" As someone who's been playing TWST since march and stopped going out of my way to be spoilerfree after I got stuck at Overblott!Jamil? That's honestly been one of my favorite things about it - seeing something in fanart or a comment you think is just fans joking, only for it to be canon. "The economy!", "May I also throw a tantrum?", Malleus' gargoyle thing, and... everything about Rook being my top examples.

there's a whole bit in Trey's platinum birthday card where he goes on about how he became increasingly obsessed with mustard for like a week straight until the other students held an intervention. how are you supposed to talk about this. how can you bring up something like Trey's descent into mustard obsession to the point that the other characters are worried for him without it sounding like the most obvious lolrandom "he mentioned it once and now fandom acts like he puts mustard in everything" joke. also, how can I slip this into every Twst post from now on, because I need everyone in the world to know that this is a real canon fact about Trey "I'm just an average normal guy (who sticks my hands into people's mouths and owns 20 toothbrushes and used to eat flowers off the side of the road)" Clover.

for bonus points, 1) the punchline is that he still doesn't even like mustard that much, 2) he's saying all of this to Leona, and 3) Leona is actually kind of invested in Trey's mustard story for some reason, which is the most unbelievable part of all of this to be honest. (then Trey gets distracted by a painting of the Cheshire Cat and Leona takes the opportunity to powerwalk away to freedom before they can start talking about dijon versus spicy brown or whatever and extend this bit even longer)

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #platinum jacket birthday #sorry that this ended up as me just talking about trey's birthday story for...about as long as trey talked about mustard. whoops.#i have said it before and i'll say it again though #the birthday cards have the best and most insane lore and i love them #especially for trey. he wants us to believe he's just some ordinary dude SO bad but he also keeps saying shit like this.#although to be fair as soon as rook enters the building the weirdness bell curve gets immediately fubar'd #so i guess it's all relative #me any time the characters brush off the most whackadoodle bonkers nonsense: why are they not questioning...oh wait #this is a universe in which rook exists and is a real person that they know #never mind please continue

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lovesickeros · 9 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."