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      𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄, 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒. they were motioned aside, something he learned was respectful to do when entering another's home. no doubt his presence was a radiant 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 of cursed energy creeping through his midst. it seemed unnerving, that power dangled above his head. ❛ you got anything that resembles cherry ? ❞ alcohol was a preferred poison should there be a choice, anything bubbly though he's been known to sulk after a few drinks so it might be a blessing in disguise if the other had nothing on tap. ❛ i like the way those taste, yuji brought them home once ... said they're going out of season soon. i didn't know fruit did that. ❞

      still, even despite being 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐃 and prompted to get comfortable, the man would loom without knowing where exactly he should be sitting. instead, an uninspired decision comes to mind. place candy upon the coffee table, and settle for the far end of his sofa. a lavish pillow, meant for decoration, now occupied his lap. fingers clutching it as though to garner support from something wholly inanimate. this abode was beautiful, embellished in a way that did not suit one such as himself. he felt out of place, like a stray dragged in.

Cont. [x] // @cadavors

In the heart of Tokyo, high above the bustling streets, a luxurious penthouse sprawls across the top floor of a gleaming skyscraper. The evening light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a glow over the expensive furnishings.

The room Gojo is in is silent, the serenity of the moment is punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city below. He is sitting on a couch, paperwork in his hand as he's breezing through it. He feels a yawn coming, his free hand motioned to cover his mouth. Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Gojo sets the papers down and gets up from his seat. His footsteps echo softly on the marble floor as he approaches the door.

He doesn’t need to ask who it is, his Six Eyes are all-knowing. After entering a code, a beeping sound indicates the door is unlocked.

--

It isn’t the first time they hang out so casually. But people don’t usually go to Gojo unless they need his help. So when Choso presents him with candy, it’s clear that he appreciates the thoughtfulness.

He leads them into the living room and gestures for Choso to sit anywhere he’d like. Gojo collects his paperwork and puts it away. A smile is etched on his lips.

“Ain’t matter if I’ve tried them or not. What matters is that I’m gonna be sharin’ ‘em with ya. Want somethin’ to drink? ”

      𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. avoidance is a shared sentiment, biding the moments until darkened eyes avert entirely. mirroring motions unintentionally as fingers fumbled with his shawl. they raise plum fabric, reaching the bridge of his nose. her voice is 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 , coming across delicate as intended. however, it was apparent that those words awoke despondency from his chest, dithering between subtle aches and searing agitation. they were gone from this world, but remained on a leveled realm to endow him the strength to carry on. contorted features, sable brow creased, granting a languid exhale to ease nerves.

      ❛ they're always on my mind, and strange enough ... i see them sometimes, too. ❞ an indescribable sensation 𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃 within his stomach, from the vessel that didn't belong to him. body thief , walking corpse raised from purgatory. memories were vague, but their faces etched the curves of his cerebrum. always together, and now 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 to part. ❛ you know anything about that ? ❞ relayed as though she knew all the answers, there is wonder behind it. whether they were on common ground, where loved ones occupied the space they couldn't quite decipher. did she see them as well ?

“ do you ever think about them? ” your family. her question is carefully placed, the topic as delicate as fine china. she avoid's @cadavors eyes, hand working in red. the fabric soothes her as it's pulled, loosened barely around her neck. the air feels better these days, less humid before fall settles with it's cooler weather.

      𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒. focusing on the leisure movement with a now tilted gaze. there is uncertainty by what is being implied, while they were on equal terms gojo was an enigma to him, something to be 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐘 of despite endearing words spared and casual glances in passing. there is so much he doesn't understand, always gnawing confusion and never-ending inquires. especially around him. ❛ i wouldn't mind, but ... ❞

      eyes begin to shift, chipping away at thoughts, indicating reservations on his meaning. ❛ how do we intend to get there from here ? ❞ a genuine 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐍 , wondering if the man intended for him to run up numerous flights of stairs or perhaps launch himself despite his techniques being confined to ground level. although higher altitude effects blood pressure, much is left to be elaborated on for the minor nuances but perhaps he could keep up when necessary.

He can’t remember the last time he had a real, heartfelt conversation with someone. It’s been so long since he’s let anyone see even a glimpse of him beyond the joking, confident exterior. He will always be the strongest, the one everyone relies on, and the one who never lets anything get to him. But in moments like these, the solitude doesn’t feel so bad after all.

He notices the shift in Choso’s position, how he gets up from his spot as soon as the influx of people reaches their previously secluded spot. Satoru is not one to hang about in crowds either, unless it’s necessary. Besides, he’d rather watch everyone from a high place instead. This gives him an idea. Though, achieving that would need convincing Choso first.

“ Right. I get that. ” He takes a few steps, his height making his strides seem almost languid. He’s in no hurry yet covers ground quickly and gets beside Choso. “ How about we hang out somewhere with a view? I know a spot that’s pretty high up, if you don’t mind. ”

      𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. they would stand facing one another, gently squeezing his palm and sensing the brisk flow of blood rushing veins. head shakes, lips unable to find a smile even now. it troubled him, not being 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 in the world as they have been. ❛ sorry i say such weird things. ❞ darkened eyes search through the blindfold his companion donned, then comes a slow press against him leaning in without hesitation. ❛ being alive for the duration i have ... it's different than living and creating memories as humans do. ❞ perhaps you could teach me , there is beauty in this new founded existence and he longed to share it with this man.

Cont. [x] // @cadavors

Oh, he ‘s soooo endearing !

He scoops Choso's hand in the hold of his own with a blend of eagerness and tenderness. A radiant smile blossoms across his face as these words instantly give him butterflies.

“ Heh, then let’s create some amazing memories together. Y’know— can’t help but say, I think it's so cute how you say things like that. ”

      𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓. more often than not would the others stare when something didn’t register in his mind. be it simple banter or even innuendos which caused a flustered mess when explained : and with elaborate detail at that. exhausting, being surrounded by those whom carried themselves fluently during conversation. his eventual return is met through widened eyes. bountiful 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 , their scarlet glimmer, and pleasant aroma caressing his senses. gojo adored them, too. it made his chest tight, revising those words over and over again.

      the pillow is placed back from whence it came, but not without fumbling to make the decoration seem untouched. quite redundant considering that blindfold didn’t elude to him not seeing an obvious attempt to regain 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 . he felt nervous, as one would being an outcast. what could be said that wouldn’t embarrass him ? ❛ i'm trying to understand it, but certain topics are strange and raise more questions. ❞ deep voice, muttered as fingertips pluck the proffered fruit from a bowl.

      teeth sunk, avoiding the seed and speaking with a 𝐑𝐄𝐃 filled mouth. ❛ thank you. ❞ his manners were not exactly refined, but attempts were always made. he doesn’t know where to put the pit, so swallows it without asking or awaiting directions. eye winced, back of hand covering lips whilst stifling a cough. that hurt, but pretend it didn’t.

“ Cherry? ” he repeats with a smile immediately growing on his pristine facial features. “ Of course! It’s one of my favorite fruits and flavors. ” He remembers he used to snack on candy with cherry filling often as a teen. Without hesitation, he exits the room to enter the kitchen in the opposite corner of the living room. A cabinet is opened as he retrieves a bowl to fill it with a delicious amount of fresh, gleaming cherries, stored in the fruit baskets. He then pours a rich, dark cherry juice into a crystal glass. The deep red liquid glints under the subtle recessed lighting.

Moments later, Gojo returns, carefully placing the bowl and the drink on the table in front of Choso. He looks over at the other, how he is curled at the edge of the seat with a decorative pillow on his lap.

“ There ya go, ” he says, taking a seat beside Choso. “ Real cherries, and cherry juice. Only the best. And yeah, Yuji is right. Fruits and vegetables have a specific season they grow in. ”

Satoru can’t help but smile. There is something irresistibly cute about Choso clutching on the pillow, mayhaps seeking some quiet comfort. It is a small, endearing gesture that softens his whole presence. Gojo enjoys reading body language without giving away that fact. He’s a lot more laid-back in his position, however. Satoru is lounging, one leg now positioned across the other, his arm is hanging over the backrest. it isn't just because he's at home. He generally exudes an effortless sense of calm and relaxation.

      𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓. shining through with such pristine depth, one could never decipher each and every prism hue that occupied those eyes. they were unyielding, bright as sunlight, and bearing into his which heavily contrasted them. void irises, dark as sable now peering back with flecks of auburn. arms fall between bodies, tepid palms cupping his jawline as thumbs drag slow 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 lines along his cheeks. adoration glosses over features, awe struck gaze searching aimlessly and only faltering when met with an unintended compliment. ❛ you think so ? ❞ forehead pressed to his, brunette lashes closing over lids whilst breath expelled like a chuckle, ❛ i never noticed. ❞ it was in that moment sight found his again, ❛ i’ve only ever had my attention on you . ❞

      the need to press lips causes warmth to rise in his chest, that condemning lust fluttering within ribcage drowning lungs and struggling to breathe through it. ❛ i want to see them more often. ❞ to have that stare etched into his mind would set mind at ease. even if their efforts were in vain against greater threats, 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 held heads above ground. above soft undisturbed soils, graves which were dug for each and every one of them. ❛ we never know when our last moments will be. ❞ it was like a revelation, and lately choso had been mourning the living. seeing him inspired hope.

Cont. [x] // @cadavors

Gojo’s every gesture is deliberate and conveys an unspoken promise of attention and care. His posture remains relaxed yet poised. An undeniable allure, combined with confidence and magnetic charm.

As Choso settles onto his lap, Satoru’s hand moves, resting with a tender touch on the other’s thigh.

He leans in slightly, his voice a smooth velvety whisper as he says, “ Hey~ ” The edges of his shell-pink lips grow into a smile, displaying a blend of affection and contentment. The warmth of Choso—a comforting weight that adds an intimate, cherished layer to the evening’s ambiance. Gojo feels deep satisfaction and pleasure in the connection, the closeness, and the mutual ease that defines their private interaction.

Oh? What an interesting request.

His free hand is motioned upwards to hook its fingers in the elastic blindfold. He pulls it over his unruly white hair, his eyes unveiled—two deep cerulean orbs, capturing and reflecting every hint of light in the room with an almost ethereal quality.

The heightened level of detail and clarity is much more appealing without his blindfold or glasses, compared to his infrared vision. He typically perceives heat signatures, able to interpret and differentiate the temperature gradients of individuals or objects.

And what a sight.

He is fixated on the captivating and sharply defined contour of Choso's gaze. Definitely one of his most compelling features, complementing his equally striking jet-black hair with spiky strands that stand out. Gojo’s eyes soften with appreciation for the other’s physical beauty and the essence of his sweetness.

“ Gorgeous— ” Gojo delivers a flirtatious remark.

      𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓. insolence is punished without the reluctance one might feel through a semblance of humanity … whether this 𝐆𝐎𝐃 among earth possessed such sentiments was wholly unknown to him. they were at constant odds it seemed, domineering from above while his own limbs groveled amongst dirt and prideful remnants snuffed beneath that overbearing heel. you should strike back with dignity, it’s what they all would have wanted. no, there would be nothing left / you’ll wish for death. why discard playthings when they can be remolded. animals could be domesticated, any of your choosing if confidence serves well enough.

     winching brows, lashes fluttering as that palm gives the slightest pat be complacent. exhale falters with a soft shudder, finding solace in pressed lips seeking his forehead. that 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 symbolized forgiveness. however as hand cradled jawline, squeezing to where his mouth notched open from the pressure, his entire body shifted to accommodate something far more submissive . allowing mistreatment by 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐓 and clenching teeth to prepare himself for it. but nothing happened, nothing save for the crooning malice in his tone. that rumbling vibration it resounded, powerful yet carrying a tenderness for him. either hand secures around his arm, not applying force but resting there for his own false assurance that it wouldn’t simply break his bones. to shatter them with one fatal motion.

     stomach churned, his brother's mentioning nearly averting focus from 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 crimsons eyes. ❛ yes … very clear. ❞  urgency to respond is impulsive, etched into his mind from their time spent together. choso wondered, aimlessly so, as to why this tyrant spared him such wrath. the masses weren't as tolerated, even looking at him wrong could warrant a death sentence. ❛ i never meant to upset you. ❞ voice feathered, hand overlaying the one which held him steady. wishing to ease it, loosen that tension in his grip. ❛ how can i make it right again ? ❞ i'll do anything for you, because you've made it so.

               𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙎𝙆𝙄𝙉.       it is a bold move that the little death womb allows himself to look so pretty, so daunting underneath the form of his own body moving over his.      how adorable that he claims that he can fight, that he thinks that he stands a chance.       do they not all understand that they are mere ants to him?       that any given moment he can flick his wrist and they will be destroyed within seconds?         no, ryomen only keeps them around because they are fun to bat between his hands, a tiger that keeps himself from tearing in with claws for the sake of his own fun.        he watches the way that choso quivers underneath him, a slow grin blooming across his face, lighting up crimson eyes that scream of the death and destruction that he can cause within moments.       𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄.      it is only because he is fun to look at, fun to play with, that sukuna has allowed him to live this long.        he is useful    –––––     he tames the brat outside of these encounters, smiles warm and pretends to be big brother because it's more imaginary lives that have been instilled by kenjaku.       he wonders how fun it would be to break that nose where the arrow dares show itself, across a dainty bridge that would be easy to tear apart.         though, it would be too much of a pity if he did    –––     he has grown fond of this toy, he does not wish to destroy.      not yet.

               a hand dips to his own, tugs it upward where he can reach that damn arrow that has erupted.      cursed energy fuels from the body below and makes him shiver    ––––     it is power, it is weighty;      he wonders just how much damage he could truly unleash if he wasn't so…. damaged.      still,  he allows his thumb to run across the edge of an arrow that is underneath a pleading eye, one that looks far too scared to be comfortable with.         his own eyes narrow for a moment, four crimson searching for a long moment, debating.        no, he does not want to break this one yet.        so instead he lightly slaps his hand against his cheek, presses a mocking kiss against his trembling forehead.        ❝  good boy, choso.      i know it won't happen again.      because if it does….  ❞       ryomen lets his voice trail for a moment before he grabs his jaw, forces those eyes to meet his own.         ❝  i will make you watch as i tear the brat apart, limb from sorry limb, until there is nothing left.      do i make myself clear?  ❞

cont. from ( 𖥔 ) @vzmky

      𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒, 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑. they were intricate motions, poetically entuned to his body. many would attempt this song and dance, when dragged into raves among friends how their eyes bore into him, forms brushing as though by mere accident. suguru managed without retort, nor the fist that came along with it. lashes were tamed with 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 mascara, half-lidded while the breath he had been holding finally exhaled. there is a sense of calm around him, never quite smiling but possessing gentle qualities that indicated his enthusiasm. ❛ i wouldn't mind it. ❞ he always spoke in small intervals, unable to keep up with his own mind and at times prattling before words had a chance to process. ❛ being alone with you, i mean. it seems peaceful. ❞ but that would negate his brother's existences, and would in turn shatter their solitary fantasy.

      opposite hands are nestled on his shoulders, slackening tension, and garnering the softest noise when fingers graze his throat. it's 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 there, even more so when caressed by another. skin blushed, faintly heightened and contrasting beauty marks. heat smolders at the pit of his stomach, spreading through blood streams. you look cute like this. the man crooned, ensnaring attention unlike before where it averted every moment he was caught staring for too long. rain droplets are still filtering from concentrated areas, shivering subconsciously and shuddering against the knee pushing onward between his thighs. that promise on 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 lips, wanting him / requited affections.

      he must seem desperate. but the offer to replenish warmth eased his worry. and it was so very 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 that fabric surrounding him began to tighten . shameful, being aroused by the implication. that might be a sign, one he couldn't simply ignore. obviously this man couldn't either, not while the evidence pressed back against him. ❛ given the timeframe, we should take it slow. i've never been with a guy, and i didn't think i'd get this far. ❞ playing coy, as if he hadn't been fantasizing the entirety of their appointment. undressing him with rapt observation, and fucking him with his eyes. ❛ even so ... i'll do 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 you want, for as long as you want it. ❞ there it was, devotion offered up and nearly begging for him to reciprocate. he craves it, too. whatever this is to either one of them.

$$$$

Sometimes I wonder what happened to the people who made Tumblr Tumblr [derogatory] back in the early to mid 2010s

The sanctimonious, self-righteous wannabe bloggers. Argumentative yet cowardly. Progressive yet narrow-minded. People who thought they'd Done The Work when they actually hadn't

Then I got onto Threads and realised they're all fucking there now

Your beauty never ever scared me, Laudna on a, Laudna on a cross

Barbara in the bathroom , Barbara in the bathroom , Barbara in the bathroom by herselfffffffffff 😔😔😔😔

She tried to socialize and failed miserably because the only thing she can talk about normally is Debbie and her entire species in deep detail 😔

Add to the trolls snap story

Trollex drawingg!

BBC

Threads: How the nuclear bomb drama horrified Sheffield extras

One of the most terrifying programmes ever shown on British television, Threads is the nuclear apocalypse docudrama that continues to haunt

The seminal 1984 drama Threads is getting a rerun on BBC 4 and iPlayer tonight at 22:00.

This has always been one of those line in the sand dramas: you had to be there to 'get it', did you see it when it aired, did it scare you to your bones because it - at the end of the cold war with its brinkmanship and rhetoric - still seemed one breath away from becoming reality. The city chosen to play out this nighmare as drama was Sheffield, more recently the home base and setting for Jodie Whittaker's Doctor Who.

This is the fear my generation grew up with, and Threads made it... oh so real. I was 10. I saw it change the minds - overnight - of complacent adults who were sure "we" would "win" a nuclear conflict. That having US nuclear bases on our soil meant - insanely - that we were "safe", not an ideological target as well as a strategic one.

I lived in a first-strike target area, surrounded by UK and US airbases and MOD admin facilities. I grew up knowing that too. Gasping when jets scrambled and shook the windows with a sonic boom, wondering if this was it. Knowing I'd be wiped off the map if someone in a cushy office somewhere in the stratosphere of international politics blinked. And I was grateful to know that I wouldn't survive that first wave, because that was not a tomorrow I ever wanted to live to see. At 10, I knew that like cold, hard comfort. The generation who'd weathered the Cuban missile crisis - my parents among them - had grown numb to it.

Threads made everyone see what it would be like to survive the first wave, and that the standard advice to shelter in place and wait for official assistance and the resumption of normal services was the wizard behind the curtain. Showmanship, propaganda, misdirection - not reality.

It's history now and Threads is an important piece of the historical archive. Important in entertainment history in a way few other TV dramas can boast. Everyone who saw it remembers it, and remembers the next day when we all had to look each other in the eye, scared and humbled. That's history too. But nuclear attack is only ever a couple of power-crazed autocrats surrounded by yes-people - or even just some badly maintained technology and a miscommunication - away from becoming all our tomorrows. My home is no longer a first-strike target. I'd live to see that unthinkable tomorrow.

'Influential' isnt even the word for Threads. It changed a nation's mindset in one, brutal, educational strike. Drama matters. Threads, nightmare that it was, is one of the reasons I'm so, so passionate about stories.

@kingcfmonsters

Rubble and ash decorated the landscape that spread forward seemingly endlessly, painted in shades of reds, browns, and grays. The horizon was a haze of heat, the waves blooming from the land like the rolling fields of wildflowers that were once a piece of this terrain. It was near impossible to keep a steady gaze, eyes ever scanning the perimeter for any signs of life, or any signs of hope. Mechanical whirring loomed overhead, muffled, crackling chatter emitted from a lone two way radio that lay discarded somewhere amidst the debris and detritus.

Dark eyes darted from pile to pile, searching for some sign of movement. “Shit,” the expletive was harsh, muttering under a sharp breath. There was nothing here but scrap and debris.

Keith ducked low, skirting his way around his make-shift barricade and into the open street. Glancing around he darted behind another large pile of debris and breathed a sigh of slight relief. It didn't look like there was anything following him, for now.

He moved quickly and quietly through the street, knife clutched tight in his hand as he did so, ready at any moment for whatever this new world threw at him. He tapped at the side of his helmet, frowning as his comms crackled to life for a brief moment. No chance of getting any sort of communications out yet...he was too isolated.

The beam streaked through his view in a mere instant, it burned his eyes to look directly at it. Keith ducked lower, following the beam back to it's source. His eyes lock onto the creature that it had come from. The paladin could feel the stare, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I've gotta get out of here," it was muttered, whispered...rasped. He scrambled to his feet again, darting back the way he'd come to find some source of proper cover. The comms crackled again, his attempts to reach someone falling to radio silence.

"Come on legs," he screamed at himself, moving as quickly as his half-human form would carry him. He was going to need back up if he was going anywhere closer to that creature. Who knows what it was capable of?

I need to find the others...we're gonna need the big guns for this one.

@kingcfmonsters

Rubble and ash decorated the landscape that spread forward seemingly endlessly, painted in shades of reds, browns, and grays. The horizon was a haze of heat, the waves blooming from the land like the rolling fields of wildflowers that were once a piece of this terrain. It was near impossible to keep a steady gaze, eyes ever scanning the perimeter for any signs of life, or any signs of hope. Mechanical whirring loomed overhead, muffled, crackling chatter emitted from a lone two way radio that lay discarded somewhere amidst the debris and detritus.

Dark eyes darted from pile to pile, searching for some sign of movement. “Shit,” the expletive was harsh, muttering under a sharp breath. There was nothing here but scrap and debris.

Keith ducked low, skirting his way around his make-shift barricade and into the open street. Glancing around he darted behind another large pile of debris and breathed a sigh of slight relief. It didn't look like there was anything following him, for now.

He moved quickly and quietly through the street, knife clutched tight in his hand as he did so, ready at any moment for whatever this new world threw at him. He tapped at the side of his helmet, frowning as his comms crackled to life for a brief moment. No chance of getting any sort of communications out yet...he was too isolated.

Going under cut to reduce post length.

Keith stammered, finding his words before responding to the hail. "I am Keith Kogane, pilot of the Red Lion of Voltron. How long has this place been under attack?" He kept his transmission brief, snickering at the banter between the other two pilots.

A slight eye roll at the mention of them being responsible for his safety left Keith trying to contact the rest of his team. If he could get a message out to them, they could help these two.

"My team may be able to lend you a hand - there's 5 of us." He explained, bluntly.

"Shiro, do you read?" Another frequency, trying to contact the rest of Voltron, Keith frowned. Static, nothing but static. He needed a better signal...he should go higher.

@haus-der-mysterionmusen

Dark circles under his eyes were a fashion statement to the cadet. He was in a perpetual state of exhaustion, no amount of sleep seemed to change that. He trudged forward, frown deepening at the weight of his own legs. Maybe it was time for a power nap or something.

"C'mon, Red," the large lion mech leaned down, opening it's mouth with what could easily be taken as a purr. "Let's head back to the castle."

His attention, however, was caught by a shine of metal in the distance. "Who's out this far?" The paladin muttered to his lion, walking up the ramp slowly, far too focused on the shimmering thing in the distance.

hey so maybe switching to threads, infamously managed by one of the worst data scraping companies of all time, isnt the play guys

heres just PART of what they're trying to track when you download the app:

to list what they attempt to track:

unique identifier

os version

device brand

charging status

device total memory

first name

gps coordinates

screen density

app version

device orientation

headphone status

rotation data

network connection type

city

available internal storage

device language

os build number

accelerometer data

network carrier

available device memory

last name

postal code

email address

gender

system volume

timezone

app name

country

state

screen resolution

cookies

device model

birthday

android advertising id

please for the love of God, dont download threads.