TVSTRANGERTHINGS
will byers stan first human second
almost home
Discoholic 🪩
ojovivo
Noah Kahan
The Bowery Presents
Cosmic Funnies
No title available
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
noise dept.
RMH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
roma★
Kiana Khansmith
No title available
Origami Around
Today's Document
Xuebing Du
seen from Maldives
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seen from Trinidad & Tobago
seen from Trinidad & Tobago
seen from United States
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@prophesizedseer
A private，independent，selective ／ canon divergent ﹠ self⎯⎯insert portrayal of the 𝕾𝐄𝐄𝐑 from 𝕭𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍．Interaction focused ﹠ mutuals only．OC，multiverse ／ single⎯⎯ship ﹠ crossover 𝔣𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑦．Dark ﹠ mature themes 𝔴𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 be present ﹠ explored，follow at your own risk．MDNI．Est．Jul 24，2025．Written by 𝕶𝐑𝐈𝐒，she ／ her，₂₁﹢．
NOTION ／ RULES ／ HEADCANONS
They're in love, trust
Wait there's more
They're in love, trust
Time to revamp this blog. I wanted to try writing as my own character for a while
Oh, also I'll probably do follower clean-up. ♡ if you wish to stay mutuals
Time to revamp this blog. I wanted to try writing as my own character for a while
Got back into Morimens lately ﹠ *sigh*
𝚃𝙾𝚂 ／ 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 ／ 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ／ 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙾
;⋆.˚ ﹠．A private，independent，semi⎯⎯selective ／ canon divergent ﹠ headcanon based portrayal of 𝕰𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍 from 𝕭𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍．Interaction focused ﹠ mutuals only．OC，multiverse ／ multi⎯⎯ship ﹠ crossover 𝔣𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑦．Dark ﹠ mature themes 𝔴𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 be present ﹠ explored，follow at your own risk．MDNI．Est．Jul 24，2025．Written by 𝕶𝐑𝐈𝐒，she ／ her，₂₁﹢．
I have aged
GUYSSSS I’M GETTING MY ANGEL FANGS TOMORROW YIPPIE
GOT ’EMMM.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ
GUYSSSS I’M GETTING MY ANGEL FANGS TOMORROW YIPPIE
The commander of the legion cracks her neck ever so slightly, releasing another breath as she centers herself in the right now and right here. The familiar screams of mania somewhere in the back of her mind are drowned out with no effort, her mind calming down as she always does, focusing on the cold and hard logic. Icy blue eyes finally find themselves studying the battlefield around. Earl is already walking heavily and barking orders, with people collecting all around him, largely alive but injured in various places. They were not the strongest force in all of Syndicate for nothing. She believes in them. Eyes then return back to Ereshan, now focused beyond measure once more.
"No. You get out of here now. Regroup with Earl. He'll tell you what to do. They need me. I can easily destroy most of them, but they will get all over me like moths to the flame. Those maniacs may know how to use weapons and their old tactics, but they're predictable. They love the strongest source of mania around. Believe it will make them stronger even if it's just the damn thing making sure they will turn into corruptors sooner than later. I need you to protect others. That's an order."
Her voice is filled with steel as the energy crackles all around her. The woman starts walking away from the group, and Ereshan hears fearful screaming and rage-induced sounds of fighting. The maniac front broke down entirely. They are fighting each other more and more. It won't be long before a full outbreak of corruptors occurs. That will make her life easier. Corruptors do not use the nasty Mania weapons. She waves back at Ereshan before taking an inhuman leap at one of the buildings ahead of her. The superwoman of the Syndicate is on a path to war.
A heavy acrid smell of ozone，burnt fabric，﹠ something vaguely metallic hung in the air．The cacophony of the initial engagement；the screams of the deranged，the sharp cracks of weapon．The Legion’s disciplined response had been replaced by a low，uneven grind．It was the sound of mop⎯⎯up，of heavy boots crunching debris，of hurried，anxious voices，﹠ the distan，sickening sound of internal strife among REMNANTS OF THE ENEMY．
Ereshan stood rooted for a moment，the echo of the Commander’s steel⎯⎯laced voice still ringing in her ears．❝ That’s an order．❞ She didn’t have to look to know Zoya had vanished into the urban sprawl，a lightning rod drawing the most volatile elements away from the core of their gang．Ereshan could feel the residual heat where she’d stood，a 𝔤𝒉𝑜𝑠𝑡 in the air．
The scythe wielder took a slow，deliberate breath，forcing the image of Zoya’s 𝖎𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐩，a shadow against the smoke⎯⎯stained skyline to recede．The energy that had crackled around her had dissipated，leaving behind a profound sense of exhaustion in the sudden silence．
She turned toward the rallying point where Earl，a massive figure of competence ﹠ sheer willpower，was directing the wounded ﹠ organizing the survivors．The Legionnaires were a bruised but unbroken sight，their movements precise even as they tended to bleeding wounds．
The furious battle continues while the others regroup．Ereshan’s thoughts were COMPLETELY CONSUMED by their leader at this point；How’s Zoya doing.ᐣ Has she abandoned them to their fate.ᐣ She’s been gone too long．
Never been so lucky in my life
The power of the sword saint. Was there anything more terrifying in the entire world than such a thing? How many men, women, great and powerful beings within the lands had caused trouble? Had they believed themselves to be all-powerful, all-knowing, to lay claim to the title of the strongest, only to cross paths with her? To have their dreams, hopes and plans for the lands and the innocents within them, laid down, shattered and broken at their feet while they rested on their hands and knees, for no matter how powerful one becomes, how much strength they gain, she will always … be stronger than them.
Even this display, she was in complete and utter control.
She made no effort to move, as the sickle moved, the effort was there, no doubt years of hard work and endless hours, blood, sweet and tears had been poured into this craft, and yet it was for nothing, so could catch the sickle between her fingers, shattered the blade with her hand and nothing more and yet she remained still, no fear, no worry, nothing. Even as the sickle got close and cut a slice of crimson from her hair, before the piece of red hair had even separated and started to flutter, she had moved, so quickly to be right before her, as the sickle returned to her hand, her hand pressing into the opponents stomach, one finger pressing into the flatness of her stomach, a killing blow if she put any strenght behind it.
“Good, very good, you're getting so much better, maybe you can fight a knight in a tournament at the level you are at.”
Adelheid’s words were a bitter punch to the gut，far more painful than the ghost of a killing blow she held．Ereshan felt the 𝖕𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 of a single finger against her stomach，a pinprick of potential death．Was it defeat.ᐣ Not sure．The scythe was tightly held within her hand．A reminder of blood，sweat，﹠ tears，as the red⎯⎯haired had so eloquently pointed out．Years spent upon craft，pouring every ounce of her being into the art of the scythe，all to have it nullified in a single，effortless motion．It was a cold truth，a stark brutal lesson that no matter how far Ereshan came，Adelheid was always two steps ahead．
❝ A knight.ᐣ ❞ The librarian spat the words out，her tone laced with a fury she couldn’t contain．❝ 𝔗𝑠𝑘，I want to fight you．❞
Ereshan dared to lift her head in order to meet the other’s gaze．Adelheid’s eyes，the color of a winter sky，were UNREADABLE．The crimson strand of hair she’d lost in scythe wielder’s failed attempt at a sneak attack fluttered to the ground，a tiny flag of DOMINANCE．Yet，Ereshan was a child playing with sticks，﹠ Adelheid was a goddess of war．It wasn’t fair，but the world was never fair．Her entire life，the pink⎯⎯haired had been trying to prove everyone her strength，﹠ the sword saint was 𝖓𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧．
First time drawing Ere．I’ve tried,,, really,,
There was a need and want within people all around the world, in the lands and kingdoms that remained, to push themselves, to test themselves, to see how far they can go, but more than that it was about seeing where they stand in the world now. After all that has happened, four hundred years of chaos, of endless fighting, wars and a rain of death that cut through the world, what remains were people who needed and wanted to become stronger. To push themselves harder and harder, and who was the one that stood higher than all others, the one who stood higher than all warriors combined.
“I am ready …”
A hushed whisper and nothing more, as she watched as the woman drew out her sickle. Seeing the weapon, someone else would have felt a shiver race through them, but all she did was smile for the moment as she felt no fear at all, as she drew no weapon, she merely stood there, head tilted to the side and a smile on her face for the moment, giving her new friend, all the opening she needed to make her first strike …
Ereshan’s movement was a blur．The sickle，a vicious crescent of honed steel，sang through the air with a faint whistl．It wasn’t a wide sweeping arc，but a precise，ECONOMICAL strike aimed not at Adelheid’s body，but at the space where her throat would be．
Even so，Adelheid stood still．Not a flinch．
Instead，she leaned further into the blow，a paradox of GRACE ﹠ RECKLESSNESS．The scythe’s tip passed a hair’s breadth from her skin，so close that a stray strand of her red curl was SLICED CLEAN ﹠ FLUTTERED to the ground as if it were an autumn leaf．Ereshan missed by a couple of 𝖒𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬．The sword saint’s gaze seemed to be following the weapon’s path．It made its circle，after which 𝔯𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 straight to pink⎯⎯haired’s hand like a boomerang．
