#the version of them that exists in my head is absolutely perfect though >:]

[numum]

very self indulgent doodle of an old fav 💜

[sakasakiii]

I absolutely adore your designs, your work actually got me to read the Silmarillion haha but I am curious, do you have a design for the valar? I’d love to see how you’d interpret some of the lesser talked about valar, like Irmo or Nessa

hello!!!! thank you so much for your kind words! first off, it's such high praise to hear that...! i started drawing this stuff mostly out of a silly love for long haired elf dudes, so it's always very humbling to hear that other people enjoy what i make 🙇 i'm really happy you were able to read the Silmarillion!! it's truly a testament to professor tolkien's amazing work that there is a community invested in his work that's been so consistently active and thriving for decades now :D

now on to your question! i do indeed have designs for the valar -- the first renditions i ever did of them when i was a baby silm fan can be found here, but it's from 2021 so it's very outdated and frankly my old art makes me shrivel up a little ahjsdhj 🫣 then in 2023, i did some rough redesigns of them as chibi heads, but for some reason i never got around to posting it ^^;;; it's just been gathering dust in my gallery, but i suppose this is the perfect time to prove they do in fact exist...!

but this was in 2023, so ive had a few changes ive wanted to make in the time since-- i also never formally drew their fullbody designs, so ive been meaning to getting around that sometime this year :D im not sure when but hopefully before december, fingers crossed! since you asked specifically about irmo and nessa, the most i can say for now is that i think i'll keep irmo's design roughly the same from his 2021 version (though maybe with a more detailed outfit?), and nessa will get a total rehaul to follow her 2023 redesign! im so sorry that this is all i have to offer as of now though 😭

the most i have now are some very tentative manwe sketches from january i havent finished since then hahaha.... i have dubbed him 'biblically accurate manwe' ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

thank you again for sending in such a lovely ask, and may you have a wonderful rest of the weekend! ^^

[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read Chapter 14 here //Series Masterlist

Chapter 15 (Last)

Summary : Love so strong that even death couldn't keep you away from him.

Warning: 18+, smut, dirty sexual thoughts,, Description of self harm, dry humping, drug use, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

Note: Finishing a series? Who is she? I'm going to miss writing this series' and this Eric 😭 but I'm so happy to be able to finish this. Also wanted to thank each one of you who appreciated this series and commented, reblogged constantly..that kept me going seriously ❤️ Enjoy. I do have another series in mind with Eric so hopefully I'll be able to write it soon.

“What is this place?” you asked the man in front of you, he seemed much older than you. You looked around the place, it was a house, but you didn't recognise it. You could see the greenery outside from the window in the living room, a house on the top of the hills but you had never been here you knew that. It was beautiful though, you wished you had Eric here with you, that would have made it absolutely perfect.

“Do you like it?” You heard Eric's voice so you turned around, he was dressed in all white, you had never seen him wearing this colour so that surprised you, he looked so good, as you looked into his green big eyes he seemed so happy, they shined so brightly as if there was no pain or sorrow anywhere in him anymore.

'Don't leave me'

You heard a faint voice calling out to you but then it faded, it sounded like Eric but he was right in front of you. Right?

“Eric baby..i thought I had lost you” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and got on your tiptoes to embrace him tightly..

“Lose me? That's impossible baby.”

He mumbled softly but then everything came rushing back. Samuel Roeg, the gunshot, dying. It all came back.

Was this heaven? Were you dead?

In the blink of an eye Eric disappeared so you turned to the man, panicking at his absence.

“Where is he? Where's he gone?” you asked him so he smiled “Who are you?’

“You know me. You must have heard of me. And Eric? Well he doesn't belong here…yet..not like this but you can have him anytime you want. All you have to do is think of him” Kronos said to you.

“What do you mean? Where am I?” you asked as you felt so uneasy suddenly.

“It's different for different people, heaven, jannat, swarg. Eternal bliss”

Heaven? You have never believed in the existence of God before you met Eric, so how come you were in heaven?

“But..Eric..i need him” your eyes teared up as you thought of him being all alone down there.

“You can have him anytime you want” he said to you “just wish for him”

You closed your eyes and when you opened them you were outside now, sitting on the greenest softest patch of grass, watching the sun rise with Eric's head resting in your lap.

“Baby-” you murmured as you cupped his cheeks so he sat up to kiss you.

Don't leave me. You heard the voice again and it bothered you, it sounded so much like Eric, he was hurt, he was crying. He needed you.

“Where did you go? Don't leave again “ you mumbled anxiously so he smiled again.

“I won't, I'm in here” he said as he pressed his palm over your chest “I'll be here whenever you want” he mumbled as he kissed you.

His smile never disappeared though and it felt weird. It felt as if it wasn't even him, Eric in front of you felt unreal, not like the man you had grown to love so deeply in the past year.

You closed your eyes again and when you opened it Kronos had returned. Eric was gone again.

“Isn't this perfect, my child? Eternal bliss? No pain, no misery, no grief here, only happiness” Kronos said to you so you shook your head.

“It's nice ..it's ..i..but my Eric. Where is he? Not the one in my head..my Eric where is he?” he chuckled as you questioned him.

“He lived, he's where he's supposed to be..on earth, like all humans are, his soul..your love helped restore it” your eyes teared up as he said that. You felt your heart skipping a beat realising that he was whole again, that you'd not have to leave him alone when you die, that you could grow old with him-, your smile faded as you realised you were already dead and he was all alone down there.

“But he's alone?” you asked him so he smiled.

“That's his destiny i suppose”

“No I can't..I can't be here..i can't leave him alone down there, the world..it's so cruel to him, it's so unfair to him, always had been since he was a baby and he needs me..he needs me” you said to him, you didn't want to be here, not without him.

“Are you sure about it? Like I said you can have him anytime you want. All you have to do is think of him. Life on earth is filled with pain and uncertainty” he said to you, you thought about Eric but as you opened your eyes you saw that happy, ever smiling Eric, the perfect Eric who seemed as if he had never had anything wrong happen to him. That's not the man you loved. You walked past the image of him and approached Kronos again.

“I don't care..I need to be with him..i need my Eric, I need to be with him” you screamed at Kronos as you stepped closer and closer to him.

“Then go back” Kronos pushed you back, making you trip on your feet and when you opened your eyes next found yourself in a hospital, you saw a few terrified faces hovering over you.

“Oh god..Call Dr. Milton, tell him she's up” one of the nurses said as she placed the stethoscope over your chest.

“Eric..eric” you mumbled softly as you began to sit up so she shushed you.

“Hey, don't speak. Preserve your strength”

As the doctor entered he was so pale as if he had seen a ghost, he was shocked but years of training immediately put him in an autopilot mode, you were instantly hooked to different medical equipments, then they took you in for the surgery to remove the bullet from your thigh, you had lost a lot of blood but your heartbeat and pulse seemed steady now.

“Where is Eric?” that was the last thing you had asked before you lost consciousness again as the anesthesia began to lull you to sleep..

*****

A floor down from where you were being treated, hours had passed and Eric woke up with immense grief heavy in his heart. He wished all of this was a nightmare but it wasn't, it was real. You were gone, he had lost you and he did absolutely nothing to save you. He wanted to blame everyone, Melody, Samuel, Roeg, Kronos even for keeping him in the dark about the truth, and most of all he wanted to blame God but he knew the person responsible for your death was only him.

None of this would have happened if he had kept himself away from you like he was supposed to.

As began to cry and his heartbeat sped, a nurse entered the room and tried to calm him down, he got up and removed several drips he was hooked to, he didn't need the surgery, the bullet had barely grazed his shoulder, that's when a bunch of doctors entered and injected him with a sedative that made him calm, he felt so dizzy.

“Y/n-need to see her.. please..” he mumbled as he cried so the doctor nodded his head.

“You can see her when you wake up..she's okay now”

That's what he heard before the darkness consumed him.

Just a few hours before he had witnessed your lifeless body being taken away while he wailed like a widow and begged for you not to leave him. So what did the doctor mean?

When he woke up again a nurse helped him sit down on the wheelchair and took him to the 11th floor of the hospital. Anticipation was killing him, where was she taking him? He didn't think he was strong enough to see your dead body yet. To know that he'd never have those beautiful eyes of yours looking at him? that he'd never get to touch your warm body and kiss you to his heart's content, that he'd never hear you laughing at his stupid jokes, that he'd never get the chance to give you the life you deserved. That killed him.

He didn't want his soul if he had to be here without you.

But maybe he needed to see you like that, dead and lifeless, he needed to see to accept that you were truly gone. Maybe that will finally stop his own heart from beating as well and he'd be able to be with you finally. He hoped for that. He really hoped for that.

As they entered a room his eyes widened as he saw you on the hospital bed, hooked with different machines, the heart machine beeping soundly, he could see your chest heaving as you breathed in softly.

“How?” That's all he was able to say as the nurse dragged his wheelchair closer to your bed.

“Medical miracle they're calling it, but i believe it's something else” the nurse spoke to him “She was dead for eleven minutes but she's completely fine now, no brain damage, nothing, she's recovering well”

Eric was shocked at the turn of the situation, life never really worked in his favour but he wasn't surprised, he had seen those miracles firsthand. He looked up, silently thanking whosoever was responsible for this. He didn't deserve you being taken away from him like that.

He grabbed your hand, the warmth had returned in your skin, you seemed lovely as ever and all he wanted was for you to wake up and look at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

As the nurse left to give him privacy he spoke your name softly, his fingers scratched your scalp and you opened your eyes slowly. As soon as you saw him you smiled. This was your Eric, the Eric you loved so deeply, not the empty, happy looking shell of him you had seen up there. Broken, battered, damaged from life yes but he was your Eric, he had lived, he had lost and he was the strongest man you had ever known in your life.

He laid down next to you just to feel you and then he cried and cried for hours, you didn't stop him either, you knew how much it must have hurt him to watch you die like that so you just caressed his head and ran your fingers over his scalp as he sobbed into the crook of your neck.

“Everything will be okay now baby” you mumbled softly as his sobs slowly quietened, you were alive, you were okay and he was going to keep it that way now.

“Don't leave me ..never” he muttered between his cries so you nodded.

“Never..wherever we go..we will go together now”

Your parents visited you in the hospital and once the shock wore off and they realised you were doing fine now they began to criticize your life choices again, well your mother did. Your mother berated you for being involved with a criminal druggie like Eric while your father was secretly happy as you finally had someone in your life.

You just listened to her screeching voice with a smile on your face, you had zoned out, thinking about having Eric's cock inside you the moment you'll get out of here.

As days passed and turned into weeks you both recovered, with Melody and Bill being involved in the matter the case had taken a big turn, a lot of media attention was on the case and Eric was taken in custody as well but he was let go as he only acted in defence, they had no evidence for all the killings he was involved in before. Maybe Kronos had a hand in that too but you didn't care as long as he was with you.

Surprisingly Dina or Cheryl didn't come see you at the hospital, Laura did though and she was kind as ever. And so did Bill. Turns out he wasn't a leaf as per Eric's logic.

When you were discharged from the hospital Eric took you back to the apartment, as you entered you noticed how clean it was, leaving the mess of his clothes on his couch as he slept there in your absence, he couldn't sleep in the bed without you, he had also decorated the bedroom with flowers and candles and what not.

“You sit here..I'm going to run a warm bath for you” he said to you as he cupped your cheeks and leaned down to kiss you.

“Only if you'd join me too” you murmured against his mouth so he smiled.

“Whatever you want”

You sat down between his legs as he washed your hair, his fingers gently cleansing your scalp. Your wound had healed but it had left a big scar on your flesh, but for some reason you didn't hate it as much as you thought you would.

You turned around to face him so he gave you a smile before he kissed you, the kiss was gentle at first but it heated up quickly, it's been weeks and he needed you as desperately as you needed him.

After bathing you clear of the soap he laid you down on the bed. You ran your fingers over the scar on his shoulder and his breath hitched in response.

“You know..sex might not be as good as before now that I'm mortal” He said as he leaned down to kiss you, his hard cock rubbed against your thighs.

“You really think it was your immortality making it so good?” you asked him so he smiled as he planted his lips on yours again.

Moments later the room was filled with the sounds of your love making, his moans and groans mixed with yours as he slowly pumped in and out of your warm cunt.

“God i have missed this-” he whispered amidst his heavy breaths, the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him was heavenly as ever. And to think he lost it all? He had nightmares about that day you had died but as long as you were here when he woke up he didn't care about them anymore.

“Mmm me too baby, thought about it every night-” you mumbled as you pulled him closer to you until you were being suffocated by his body on top of you.

When you died, you went to heaven, and it was beautiful, the house on the hills was beautiful but it wasn't perfect because your Eric wasn't there. This was heaven, right here right now, for you this was heaven because he was here with you, in you, all around you.

For you heaven was a place wherever Eric was with you.

Next morning you were still asleep while he was in the kitchen making breakfast for you two. He knew he needed to find a normal job now that he didn't have to do god's bidding any longer, he had a lot of money in his bank account, courtesy of Kronos, but he knew it was bound to run out sooner or later and he didn't want that. He wanted to take care of you in every possible way.

As he heard the doorbell he walked towards the door and looked through the peephole. He was surprised to see your mother out there so he opened it immediately, he should have put on a shirt but he didn't think of it at the moment.

As she looked at his tatted up body from face to neck down she grimaced internally, however her disgust showed clearly on her face.

“Please come in” he said as she stepped to the side, the couch was messy so he walked up it and began picking up his clothes so she could sit down. “Sorry ..ahh she's still asleep. I'll go wake her up” he mumbled politely as he heard her clearing her throat.

“No need. I needed to speak with you anyways” she said to him so he straightened himself up.

She looked at him properly this time, from head to toe, his tall stature, well built body, and pretty face wasn't something she could miss not noticing, he was a good looking man but he was a trouble she could tell. Good men didn't do drugs and got their girlfriends involved in such life threatening situations.

“Do you love my daughter?” She asked him, making his brows furrowing in response

“I love your daughter very much..more than anything in this world” he answered earnestly.

“And you care about her well being I suppose?” She asked him so he nodded again, a small smile on his face “She died because of you..you know that right?” She said as she walked towards him so he looked down, shame filling him up as he was reminded of his failure.

“I know Mrs-”

“How does it not lay heavily on your conscience? Knowing that she died because of you? Because of your mess? And god knows who else is out for your blood..if you actually cared and loved her as much as you claim to..do you think you'd still be here in her life? Living in her apartment so shamelessly?” His eyes teared up as she spoke, her words were harsh but she wasn't wrong. You died because of his enemy, you were used as a pawn and men like Roeg and his brother weren't the only ones out for his blood.

“She's a strong woman, many people have come and gone and she just moves on like this-” she said as she clicked her fingers “You won't be missed for long, not by her, not by anyone” she snickered before she continued “People in my family, this is all they talk about, gossip about her relationship with a man like you and it's appalling, it's an embarrassment for her to be associated with you, don't you see that? You're not good enough for her, you could never be”

She finished finally, making sure he knew how much she despised him.

As she left, he sat down on the couch, her words struck a chord within him, he knew your life would be much better without him. Perhaps you'd even find a decent man that would give you everything without putting you in harm's way.

The breakfast he was making had burned down completely and the burnt smell made you wake up so immediately ran into the kitchen and turned off the stove before you poured water into the burning pan.

“Baby are you trying to burn the house down?” You asked him playfully but as he didn't answer, you approached him.

“Eric?” You called out his name so he got up from the couch.

“Sorry, I got distracted..you freshen up..I'll make something else for you” he said to you, his voice soft but his eyes didn't meet yours.

“Are you ok?’ you asked him so he nodded and gave you a fake smile.

After you showered, you put on one of his shirts and came back out but he wasn't there anymore. You found the breakfast on the table but you couldn't find him anywhere. There was no note either and that worried you. He never left without leaving a note behind.

You quickly grabbed your phone and called him but he didn't pick up either. That's when you felt the fear creeping in again, something had got to him and you had no idea where he was or what had happened to him. He was capable of being hurt now and you feared for his life. You couldn't go through this all alone, you couldn't go on with your life without him.

You wanted to go to the cops but you didn't know what to tell them. You called Bill, asked him to ask Melody if she had heard from him but none of them had heard from him and as two hours passed and there was no sign of him you took the elevator down, perhaps he was at that lake he had told you about.

On the way down you bumped into Mrs. Bonnie who told you that it was lovely to finally see your mother this morning.

Your mom came here? Why didn't she tell you? Did she say something to Eric?

You called your mother immediately as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Mom..are you here in Chicago?” You asked her so she hummed in response.

“Came to see you but your boyfriend didn't let me do that so-’

She said to you but you didn't believe her, she had a tendency to make up lies if it suited her agenda and you knew how much she didn't like the idea of you being with him. Besides Eric would never disrespect her like that, even though he hated the way she treated you at times.

“What did you say to him mom?” You asked her but she stuck to her baseless lies, talking of him as if she knew everything about him.

“You don't even know him, the only reason I'm alive today is because he saved my life. He saved me.. and yes i died for him but it was because I loved him but him? He saved me when he didn't even know me, when he had no obligation to do so..he's my angel and if something happens to him I'll never ever forgive you for this..you remember that” you said as you hung up.

He was fragile, the trauma from that night you had died still played heavily on his heart and you feared she had driven him further into that guilt and made him do something awful.

However as you stepped out of the building you bumped right into him so you looked up. Your eyes immediately teared up at the sight of him, relief and anger all coursing through your veins.

He was okay, he hadn't hurt himself.

“Eric..where have you been?” You asked, jaw clenching with anger.

“Just went out for a run” He said as he walked past you so you followed him and entered the elevator that led back to the apartment, he did seem out of breath but you also knew that he was lying and that bothered you alot.

The moment you entered your apartment you followed him into the kitchen, he took out a bottle of water from the fridge and as he turned around he found you glaring at him intensely.

“Explain..I'm giving you one minute to explain this behaviour -” you said to him as you crossed your arms.

“I just needed some time alone -”

“Okay and you didn't think I'd worry? Didn't think I'd worry about something bad happening to you when you left without telling me?” You asked him, as he noticed the tears rolling down your cheeks, it finally got through him so he cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead before he hugged you tightly.

“I'm sorry darling”

The truth was he had thought about it, thought about leaving, thought about just disappearing out of your life so you'd never be hurt because of him, so you'd never die again because of him, perhaps your mother was right and you'd move on sooner or later. But the moment he was out of your sight, out of your proximity, the moment he was so far away from you that he wasn't able to feel you, smell you, he turned back around and ran back to you.

If you weren't safe with him, you weren't safe without him either. He had promised to never hurt you, to never leave you, a part of him wanted to be punished for even thinking about being so cruel to you after everything you had done for him. Did he really think he'd survive out there without you? And did he really believe you'd just move on with your life if he was gone? No..you'd have driven yourself crazy, you'd have looked for him forever.

“Where did you go?” You asked him so he shook his head as he cried, he didn't want this to change anything, he didn't want you to doubt his feelings for you, he was just afraid of losing you to death again.

After he told you what your mother had said to him, he broke down in your arms the same way he had done that night in the hospital bed.

“She's wrong..she's so wrong baby, i didn't die because of you, you did everything you could have done to keep me safe, you saved my life”

You mumbled softly as let him cry, you allowed him to let go of the guilt he carried and the guilt your mother's insensitive words had intensified in him.

“Eric..if you ever dare leave me again after everything we have been through, I swear to god I'll lock you up in my bedroom and never let you out of my sight” you threatened him once he finished crying so he finally looked up at you, he stood straight back up as he picked you up and placed you down on the kitchen counter before he leaned down to kiss you passionately.

“I'd like that..do that..next time I'm being an idiot.. tie me up and never let me go” he mumbled as he felt your fingers curling into his hair, pulling and grasping on the edges, he winced as he felt the sting.

You took off his shirt quickly before you unzipped his pants, his fingers already sliding down your underwear, his cock was hard as he positioned himself to your entrance. You knew it was a risk you were taking but perhaps you could think of the consequences later. Plan b existed for a reason. None of you were ready for a child but you really needed to feel him inside you, skin to skin.

He grabbed onto your thighs as he slipped inside you, his fingers ran over the scar on your thigh, the proof of your love for him, not that he needed it, a loud moan escaped your throat as you felt the stretch, his warm cock felt so hard and the way it throbbed made your head spin.

His thrusts were quick, sharp and desperate, he couldn't live without you even if he tried.

“Fuck..eric..I'm so pissed off” You mumbled, teeth gritting as you thought about him leaving you like that.

“I know..I'm sorry. I'm so sorry” he whispered as he grabbed your hands and wrapped it around his throat so you choked him a little before you pulled him in for a dirty sloppy kiss.

“You're mine..you're never leaving me”

“Never..I'm sorry..you shouldn't even let me fuck you like this after what I did..dont you want to punish me baby? Make me hurt? Make me cry?”

He whispered as he placed his palms flat on the counter next to you body, your teeth grazed over the skin of his neck, you wanted to bite him, perhaps you'd have done it too if he healed as quickly as he did before but not anymore, you'd never hurt him like that, unless he'd want that too.

“I do want that..want to make you cry but not from pain baby..want to make you feel so good it would hurt, so good that you never even think of disappearing on me again” you mumbled softly, making his eyes tear up with several different sensations you were evoking in him at the same time.

“I'm sorry..I'm sorry baby..let me earn it..let me earn your forgiveness” he mumbled as he put you down and then turned you around, you held onto the edge of the sink as he thrusted in from behind, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back and toes curl every time. The moment your walls clamped around him, he held onto your hips tightly, watching your body shake with the intensity of your release, and as his own orgasm followed he pulled out and came all over your ass.

Scooping you up in his arms he took you to the bedroom to clean you up and cuddle with you. Both of you needed that desperately.

“Eric?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you want to run away with me? Go someplace nobody knows you or me?” he propped himself on his elbow next to you and smiled as you asked him that.

“Where do you want to go baby??” He asked softly as you turned to look at him.

“It's going to sound silly.. perhaps impossible” you mumbled as you caressed his cheek so he smiled again.

“I still want to hear it,” he said firmly.

“Okay..mmm..let's just go somewhere far, perhaps a house on the hills where we are the only two people living there for miles, we can both work in the village during the day, you could teach people to fight, defend themselves from bad people, especially women and I uhh? Well I'll just open a little eatery joint..a small thing just so I'm not bored in your absence.. and you could come pick me up in the evening, we will go to the village market, buy groceries or other stuff we'd need for home. And We will definitely need guns, in case some creep tries to mess with us” he chuckled as you said that, he could already imagine living this fantasy with you.

“Sounds great, what else will we do there?” He asked softly, his fingers grazing your scalp.

“I'm thinking we could have our own garden behind the house? Plant some fruits and vegetables, just a little hobby we can share during weekends, that only if we will have some time spared from the constant sex we will be having. That reminds me we'd totally have sex outside during summer, perhaps put a cot out there with mosquito net around it, I'm assuming there will be mosquitos there. But it would be lovely right? Making love under the open sky? Watching the stars though you'd make me see them even with my eyes closed” you giggled so he leaned down to peck your lips.

“I would huh?” he murmured against your mouth so you nodded

“You always do. And nobody will be there to pry on us. I'd like to wake up outside with you, in your arms, watch the sun rise and then we shower in the waterfall that would be like five minutes walk from our house or ten maybe, then we will go to work and when we come back I'll make tea for us so we can watch the sunset together.. and we can live like that forever..in the little heaven of our own”

As you finally finished his eyes were teary, he sniffled once before he leaned down to kiss you deeply this time.

He wanted more than to fulfil this dream of yours, he liked the sound of running away with you to some place where his past wouldn't haunt you both. Where he'd be able to keep you safer. Away from the life of this fast paced city, a place where you'd be loved, taken care of and encouraged to follow your dreams, he wanted to give you the quiet peaceful life you so dearly wished for.

And if you ever got bored of it he'd take you wherever you'd want to go next. He'd fulfil all of your dreams and go on these wild adventures with you until you two will be too old to move. He smiled as he kissed you tenderly before he placed his head up to look into your eyes, just so you'd know that he took this seriously and that he didn't think that it was an impossible dream.

“Let's do this ..let's run away baby”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97 @fandomxo @mariaenchanted @clairesblouse @theantagonistalwaysdies

[floweycidal]

hey op i know youre insane over flowey so i thought id share my brain with you

have we considered the chara parallels in undertale yellows neutral run? as in. how flowey is pissed that midway through the plan clover went back on it? how flowey probably said something that chara said in the moment frustrated? im ill.

HEY OP I KNOW YOU’RE INSANE OVER FLOWEY HAHAHA INSANE START /SILLY

ah, yes, yes! you've come to the right place. please, make yourself at home. i’ll handle your brain with the utmost care.

OUDHUHGH YUUUP, we've (me, myself, and i) absolutely considered all that. and more!

but see, i personally never thought that was all there is to it. it would’ve been far too facile, much too pat, to assume chara had just... snapped at him in their final moments. that they’d cursed his name, branded him a traitor, made their hatred crystal clear.

oh, how delightfully clean that would’ve been for him. because then he’d get his closure, wouldn’t he? an answer, wrapped up all pretty just for him.

"i betrayed them. they loathed me for it. the end."

HA! too polished for my liking. no thanks. closure is reserved for those who can find resolution. and flowey, my son who's got everything wrong with him, has never been one to receive that kind of accord. he doesn't get straightforward, not then, not now, not ever.

in my head, flowey woke up in that garden with gaping holes in his memory of the incident. not total oblivion—never that generous. instead, it was bits and pieces. just enough to know. enough to understand that it was his fault. his frailty. his failure that brought him to this point.

but chara's last moments? their final utterance? those are lost to him. gone. TORN.

he never gets that confirmation. or, more precisely… he doesn’t remember. can’t remember. mwhahaha…

what does spring to mind, however, is the terror. the detestation that wracked their shared body. the oppressive shame that pervaded every step he didn't take. 

but then... at the time... who was feeling what exactly? who blazed with fury, and who broke beneath it? did someone beg? did someone weep? was it him? was it chara? who was hating whom in those parting moments? the harder he tries to remember, the further it slips away.

and because flowey's never met a void he didn’t try to fill, he does what he’s always excelled at. he patches the blanks. projects, narrates. 

his guilt demands a story, and so he obliges. in his version, every foul emotion, every drop of vitriol, was aimed squarely at him. how could it not have been?

chara MUST have surely thought he was an idiot. a weak, cowardly, sniveling idiot. a pathetic creature who couldn’t even get one plan right. couldn’t even die properly!

the self-blame constricts him like a vice, and with every reset, the narrative grows more discordant. he doesn’t just wonder if chara felt let down, he KNOWS they did. feels "their" revulsion rooted in his stem, their disappointment rotting his petals from the inside out with every cycle.

when clover comes along, he's elated. this is his shot at a fresh start. a second chance. the perfect subject for redemption, for forgiveness by proxy. his very own moment to fix everything, to prove that he’s changed. gone were the days when any plan was doomed with him around. this time, he was going to make it work. are you looking, chara?

but when clover hesitates... wavers the way he once did... flowey FREAKS.

he doesn’t see clover anymore. he sees HIM. he doesn’t hear his own voice, either. he hears the chara he’s created. the version that exists only in the cruel theater of his own mind. the variation that would never absolve him. that would never understand. that would only revile him.

the words he chucks at clover are the same accusations he believes chara would have spat at him, the same venom he’s already used to poison himself.

the words fall into insignificance, though, because much like the first time, the plan fell apart regardless of whether he condemned asriel clover or not.

all he was left with now was his certainty. chara HATED him.

and they were right to.

[constantcrying]

Ersatz, baby

m!shape-shifter!yandere x gn!reader. 4k words. yes. I'm so sorry.

TW: Obsession, possessive thoughts and behaviors, mentions of violence, gore, consumption of humans, idk how to tag it but the shape-shifter eats humans and has considered eating the reader so like heads up about that

Heeeeey

Somebody PLEASE tell me if the length of this piece is detrimental to the experience of reading it it’s like 4k words. Here’s something I’ve been kicking around for ages. Frankly I am shocked I have something at all after a year

“Odd couple” is the best way to describe the friendship between you and Sasha. You’re awkward and responsible and outwardly boring. He’s highly social, wild, and intriguing. You’re genuine to a fault. He’s an expert in facades; he is a facade. You’re human and he’s something utterly not.

The freak accident of affection between you two is...still hard for him to wrap his head around. It seems to be your fault. If you weren’t so pitifully earnest toward him he would have just gotten rid of you. You were aware of his true nature, and definitely scared of it, but you kept going out of your way to be the Good Roommate™, to play friends. He had to let you live, just to see what the fuck your deal is. Now it’s too late. Now he wants you around.

You are the only person in the world that he has shown his real body to.

Some of his victims have seen it, but you’re the first person he intended to see it. The decision was quiet, perhaps a little impulsive. A simple exchange of “What are you, Sasha?” and “I don’t know. Wanna see?” had you both going to your bedroom and locking the door.

For the first time in his life, his heart pounded as he shed his clothes. He almost didn’t want you to turn around and look. It might be better if you only knew the carefully curated version of him, the handsome appearance he painstakingly crafted for the easiest social life. Even though you already knew he wasn’t human and pretended it didn’t matter, what if you saw him now and knew with absolute certainty that you didn’t want to look at him ever again? He would have to swallow you whole. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Regardless he said, “turn around.”

He showed you the unvarnished form that he had inherited from his mother. To be frank: It’s a predator’s body. Worse that that, it’s a monster’s. There are features and junctures of him so uncanny it must hurt the logical mind to observe them. If you were ever looking for the perfect rebuttal to the existence of a loving God, look no further than his cruel mouth.

He crept onto you bed looking like this, towering over you, your bed-frame screaming to protest the weight. He’d have to cut you off at the source, if you were to scream. And though he could smell the fear wafting from your skin, could practically feel the constricting blood vessels and tightening muscles in you, you still asked him, “Hey, is it more comfortable? Do you prefer being like this?”

Honestly? He isn’t sure there’s a body that’s comfortable and natural to him anymore. He’s so used to a human state that anything else feels awkward, even when it’s easier to shift to. As you took his massive claws into your hands and examined them with gentle curiosity, though, he was struck by the warmth of you. It was a long time since anyone had really touched him. It might’ve been even longer for you, loner that you are. Which meant you were the only person who could understand the way he felt in that moment.

He flopped over next to you, letting out an embarrassing dog-like whine, but you just laughed sweetly, and shifted pillows around to accommodate his bigger size. His feet and tail still dangled awkwardly off the bed. “You can relax in here,” you said. “You’re always welcome, since you’re my friend.”

You rambled about your classes and professors until all the adrenaline had left your system. He didn’t say much in response, but you didn’t mind. After a while, you could almost meet his preternatural gaze. You even dozed off like this, with a monster beside you, you utter weirdo. He put his head closer to your chest and felt your sleeping breaths for hours, thinking that your throat would be butter-soft under his teeth.

Sasha knows very little about what he really wants. He’s not sure if he’ll stay in his major, or in school, or even in human society. He knows for certain, though, that he wants more time to study you. He wants just your quiet voice and humble body heat and the understanding that, whatever he is, it isn’t going to chase you away.

So you two keep doing this. Every few days he’ll skulk over to where you are and make room for himself, and the two of you will talk for hours. Sometimes he shifts. He doesn’t always want to, but you get more comfortable with him that way. You...seem more keen to pet him when he looks and acts like an animal, and he wants you to touch him so bad he’s worried he’ll start asking for it. Could he ever live it down, if he started asking to be coddled? No. So he wags his tail and butts his head against you like that isn’t it’s own special brand of pathetic.

It’s not like you’re one to judge, though. You’re just so happy to have a friend that comes to hang out with you. You’ve never had very many of those, but of course Sasha knows he’s extra special. There’s much he’s learned about the world from his strange perspective, and you’re always excited to listen to his stories.

You do understand that he needs to eat a lot. You see him clear out four bacon cheeseburgers as a snack once, and he cracks jokes about how breakfast was red bull and adderall, but you know that it’s just a part of his biology that works against him. So you go out of your way to cook more meat, and give him bigger portions than anyone else, ignoring the way your blatant favoritism must look to the other roommates and occasional visitors. He doesn’t bother explaining that your idea of a big meal is like his idea of an appetizer, and he never will.

He doesn’t talk about the people he eats, either. He’s starting to think you don’t realize he does that.

(If you really don’t know, if this is the way you treat him when you don’t know, there’s no fucking way he can tell you.)

As for you, you talk about your courses and your classmates. From the way you talk around it, he’s mostly figured out the sad shape of your childhood and he decides that’s why you’re so weird and naive.

Mostly, you tell him about your hobbies, and your taste in TV shows. That’s when something in you is unlocked, revealing you to be more witty and giggly than your initial impression. It’s gratifying to know most other people don’t discover that side of you, like being the only prospector who knows where gold is. You tell him about everything you used to watch and play with your best friend, back when she had time for you. He’s a little confused by just how fervently you love things, how you start to care one day and then never, ever stop.

He never did it before, but now the two of you watch garbage TV together. (You tried to invite your best friend to join you, but to Sasha’s satisfaction, she gave you that cringing sort of smile and told you she didn’t have time.) Every Friday comes a new episode of Crater County, this schlocky supernatural police procedural, so every Thursday night you ask him to watch it with you. He’s a busy man, of course, but he’ll fit it into his schedule since he knows you so look forward to it.

This Thursday you must have forgot.

Somehow, in the early morning on Friday, you slip away without Sasha noticing. He wakes up to the honks of geese and distant cars, and the ever-present hum of electricity. As he thinks of pestering you to make ham and eggs, just to watch you get annoyed, he notices the conspicuous lack of your heartbeat.

He knows better than to doubt his hearing. But he still goes into your room across the hall to find the bed unmade and unoccupied. He almost goes to check your pillow for warmth, only stopping when he realizes it’s...stupid, to do that. He stays in the doorway for a long moment, overly-conscious of your scent. Then he goes to pace in the empty kitchen.

It hadn’t occurred to you to say goodbye to him, or leave him a portion of breakfast as you usually do, so you must have been in a hurry. Distantly, he remembers your fast food job. You probably got called to cover for someone at the last minute. Even so, shouldn’t you have said something to him? So that he wouldn’t wonder? Because he’s—

—well, you called him your friend.

It bothers him the more he thinks about it, while he showers and gets coffee and goes to class. The two of you haven’t talked since Monday and it feels weird. You always tell him when you’re going out, so what happened? Where can he even find you?

Not that he would need to find you. Sasha isn’t clingy. Clingy is his ex making alt account after alt account to pester him on instagram with stupid questions like, “are you seriously trying to ghost me you asshole?” And Sasha isn’t doing that. He hasn’t even texted you yet, because you haven’t texted him, and you always text first. If you don’t go through with the trouble of asking for him, he absolutely will not bother coming.

You haven’t sent so much as a “hey!” in the last seventeen times that he’s checked, so. Guess you guys aren’t hanging out. Whatever. It’s not like he doesn’t have stuff to do. He’s behind on several classes, a habitual skipper, and there are four other people begging him to come out tonight. He hasn’t hunted in a while so he should probably do that too.

He should go and talk to other humans, re-acquire their speech patterns and body language. He should catch himself when he makes gestures you would make, stop himself from making them. That’s why he goes to lunch with a friend group he met last month, and fits in with them seamlessly—or, almost seamlessly. No one can say he isn’t a good talker, slick as oil and quick with comebacks, but he’s a little more sensitive than usual today. While he’s in the middle of charming them he slips up and says something you would say.

“Isn’t that a Crater County reference you just made?” One girl says to him, stopping the conversation cold. “I thought you hated nerdy stuff like that.”

Sasha laughs shortly. “What? Says who?”

“Says you. You laughed at someone’s Supernatural tattoo at the party, remember?”

“It was a fucking horrendous tattoo. And I don’t like Crater Country or whatever, either, I just know some lines because my,” his throat feels like a desert, but he continues, “my roommate is obsessed with that shit.”

They brush over that thought soon enough, shifting focus to upcoming concerts, but Sasha can’t get comfortable again. He feels like he forgot how eyes work, and his are going to slip and turn reptilian in the middle of this well-populated restaurant. He’s scared his hands are going to morph into paws. In the end, he excuses himself before he can finish his meal.

Since he’s still quite hungry, Sasha decides he’ll drop by the butcher and get a few pounds of beef chuck to tide him over until dark. He’ll go to that fancy shop with all the grass-fed cruelty-free organic stuff, because he’s passionate about the well-fare of livestock, and definitely not because it’s just down the street from your job.

But since he’s there, anyway, he’ll pass by and peek through the windows to see what’s happening there.

Your restaurant is packed. A sports team, or special event or something, has filled every table in sight, and more people queue up at the register. You’re boxing fries and passing them over to waiting customers’ trays. Even though you’ve got mountains of food to work through, you’re smiling. It takes only a few seconds to find out why, following the arc of your eye up to a man in the same uniform as you.

The guy is tall and average-looking, and he keeps leaning toward you to talk like he doesn’t know how to speak loudly even though he works in a goddamn kitchen. Sasha doesn’t know him by face, or by word of mouth, since you’ve never told him about a co-worker that can make you giggle so much.

Why hadn’t you told Sasha about the funniest man of the century, huh?

More importantly, why hadn’t you noticed the way this asshole was looking at you? Staring so intently, exaggerating his expressions, mirroring you. All the same tricks Sasha has used before but with none of the grace, and yet somehow you liked it from this guy when Sasha had seemed scary to you.

He just can’t understand. That wouldn’t be such a problem if he hadn’t believed that he did understand you, and the way your mind worked. You had said Sasha was your friend and you had sat in the truth with him, relieved to see him for what he truly was, and you had been asking after his health and his happiness, wasting nights with him, cooking for him, cuddling up with him, and now here you were forgetting about his existence with another friend that he didn’t know about.

Sasha has been cheated on by a partner in the past. They left him one night and came back in the wee hours smelling like a fresh shower, with traces of someone else’s odor still clinging to them. It hadn’t felt like anything, to know that they were sneaking behind his back. Not a betrayal, no sting or ache in the heart he supposedly had. He broke up with them a week after, and that, like all his other breakups, was simply annoying. Sasha had always felt like he wasn’t with any of the people he was with. He was watching them, and touching them, and living among them, but there was some kind of invisible barrier between him and all the world. So when they broke a connection, well, what was there to even break? How could he care?

And why did being cheated on come to mind when he saw you happy with some other guy?

Sasha would later find out that you pulled a twelve hour shift that day, and, pushover that you were, you didn’t take a break long enough to check your phone. But he doesn’t stay to watch you, he really couldn’t. A pit had formed in his stomach, some void, some black hole that he had to attend to.

He leaves you there in your job and your apparent fun, none the wiser, and goes to the butcher. He gets himself a rack of ribs, and a few pounds of steak, and a heart just because the shop had one on hand and they were happy to serve a customer with such deep pockets as him. He gets a couple of cheeseburgers for the ride home and finishes them in a few bites.

As soon as he knows your other roommates aren’t home, he tears into the paper packaging of the prepared meats and gorges himself over the kitchen sink, soiling his shirt with myoglobin. It all tastes like ash, disappearing into him the way so many things do. When he’s done, when every last shred of flesh and sliver of bone has been swallowed, his stomach growls.

He’s always been this empty. Maybe that was the thing you saw that made you so afraid upon first meeting him—the bottomless trench that he actually was.

You said he was your friend. You knew what he was and didn’t back away. But you have so little else in your life. If you gained anything more, real friends, real family, a lover, wouldn’t someone as hollow and alien as Sasha be easily discarded?

There’s nothing for it. He has to go and hunt now.

Your co-worker is pitifully easy to discover. By checking the likes on your posts, he finds the creep has been hounding you for three weeks now. His unmitigated social media addiction leaves the entirety of his existence splatter across the internet. Sasha learns and forgets his name. He knows exactly what place he’ll be at tonight, with whom, for how long. He shifts to look exactly like you, heads out and stops at the right street corner with a bulky gym bag, waiting.

It’s so easy. Sasha can play You, but this guy hardly deserves all that effort. It’s enough to show up magically with your face, even if your clothes and piercings seem out of place. All Sasha has to do is bat lashes and flash a smile that he has already memorized—your stupid sincere grin that had made you, like the sun, difficult to look at directly—and this idiot thinks the person in front of him is really you, out on the same night by coincidence. He’s happy to see you, and happier still that you want to go somewhere together. He lets Sasha take him by the hand, convinced that the two of you are going out for drinks through innocuously empty backstreets. It doesn’t strike him as weird that you’re so energetic and flirty all of a sudden. Asshole.

He at least has the decency to carry the bag, no doubt hoping to come off as a gentleman.

“Why a duffel bag, anyway?” He marvels.

“To change clothes before I go home, silly,” Sasha tells him, leading him further into the night.

It turns out the co-worker is deeply uncomfortable with silence. He cracks jokes that aren’t funny, to which Sasha politely chuckles for what is only ten minutes but feels like an hour.

“When you kept turning me down,” he says, predictably, “I was worried you had a boyfriend or something.”

“Why would I not tell you if I had a boyfriend?” Sasha croons in your voice, fighting with all his will-power to not crush your co-worker’s hand. They’re finally on a quiet street, between two condemned houses, where there are no cameras and no pedestrians.

“Haha, I don’t know. You’re like, really private. That roommate you talk about all the time? The one going to the same school? I honestly feel like I know more about her than I know about you.”

“You mean, ‘him’? Sasha?” Sasha blinks owlishly with your eyes, his heart melting a little when he imagines you gushing about him to other people.

The guy laughs nervously. “No, I mean Maya. Is Sasha another roommate? Have you mentioned her before?”

Really. Maya. That “best friend” who basically pretends you don’t exist, who takes up valuable real estate in your mind when some people who have spent months getting to know you don’t even get a text.

Sasha gives up on looking friendly.

Your co-worker has finally sensed something is off, wincing as he tugs his hand out of Sasha’s vice-grip. Stretching out his fingers, he asks, “Hey, how much farther ‘til we get there? I swear we’ve passed like, three bars already...”

He doesn’t get to say more because Sasha lets out his teeth and goes for the throat.

It must be said that a warm meal always beats a cold one, but other that that it’s a shitty fare, gristly and lacking in flavor. This guy’s blood, fresh from the veins, is flat and forgettable. Even the marrow of his bones disappoints. At least he didn’t put up a fight...though maybe some enrichment could have saved this boring dinner.

Sasha feels more bloated than full when it’s all over. He wipes down and changes into fresh clothes, stuffing all the bloody garments into the duffel bag. He still feels kinda gross, and considers a long, hot shower while picking muscle fibers from between his teeth.

Are you going to worry about your co-worker? Are you going to miss him? Will you cry if they identify his blood on clothes found in the dump? Will you even tell Sasha why you’re crying?

Sasha snaps out of his deep thoughts when his phone buzzes. The text from you reads:

hey! i forgot to ask, are you on for crater county tonight?

What the fuck. Renewed frustration flushes through his system. What is he, your backup plan? He has a life—actually, many more lives than you! You should know better than to screw around with his time. He shouldn’t even dignify your bullshit with a response, but he does anyway—

At a party

And your answer is,

oh ok

we’ll watch it some other time

have fun!

…

Stay safe ok! Call me if you need something

It’s such a low blow he has to wonder if you’re doing it on purpose: you’re telling him all the same things he’s heard you tell Maya when she blows you off. He can hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your voice, the way you assure her of your eternal affection and concern while she practically dismisses you. Once he’s imagining your face, then, all he wants in the world is to look at it.

He’s a good runner. He’s barely out of breath when he arrives home, tossing aside his sweaty hoodie and kicking off his shoes while he quietly closes the door behind him. The dishwasher is running. He can just make out the low moan of the central air system, and one lazy heart thumping in the living room.

For a moment you don’t notice that Sasha is there. He gets to watch you quietly. You’re languishing on the couch in your bedclothes, staring blankly at the No Signal screen on the TV with a bowl of popcorn untouched on the coffee table. It surprises him. He hasn’t seen you with an expression this dull in a while.

But it disappears in an instant.

“Sasha!” You bolt upright, your face brightening like the sky at dawn when you find him standing in the doorway. “Did the party end already?”

He doesn’t know what to say.

You glance back at the TV. “Um, I swear I wasn’t going to watch without you! I was just…”

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks.

Your expression flickers, betraying the anxiety in your eyes before you have the chance to look away. Why did he even bother to ask? You’re here for him, like a puppy waiting for their owner, and suddenly he’s flushed and queasy—no, it’s not sickness that he feels, it’s butterflies. He’s so delighted he feels dumb, all of his frustration and embarrassing angst vanishing in an instant because all he can think of is how sweet you are.

“Ah,” he laughs dryly. “I’m screwed.”

Before you even know to cry out, he’s thrown himself at you, arms coiling around your waist. The two of you fall back on the couch.

When you get your bearings, you scold him. “Sasha, don’t just do that! You scared me!”

He mumbles, “I had a bad day.”

“...you did?” Your left hand cups his head, almost protectively, and your right strokes his back. “What happened? You’re not hurt, right? Are you hungry? I have some stuff in the fridge—”

“Can we just stay like this?” He asks.

“U-um. Well...” You must be thinking of your other roommates, who could walk in on this scene and “misunderstand” the relationship you have with him. You don’t want to cause weird rumors or tension. But he wants you so much he can’t pretend to be above it anymore. He squeezes you just a little bit, betraying his own desperation, so you say tenderly, “Of course we can.”

It’s scary to be honest. Sasha considers it contrary to his nature. However, he has never in his life avoided adapting or transforming to get what he wants. If he has to bare himself again to endear himself to you, he’ll do it.

“You’re the best friend I have,” he admits, “and I didn’t see you all day, and I missed you.”

Your heart quickens. “Sasha…”

“I know I’m being clingy. I just can’t help it. Say you missed me too. Say I matter to you.”

“I did miss you,” you murmur, your smile bleeding into your voice. You pull him closer. “It feels wrong when we don’t talk all day. And I worry about you, you know. I never see you make a proper meal.”

“I like it better when you make it. So keep cooking for me. Please.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” you say.

His whole body thrums with satisfaction. You care about him so much he can feel it all the way through. He’s soaking up your warmth and savoring your smell, face pressed into your neck. Twisting his hands into your shirt, he finds that he resents your clothes. He even resents your flesh and bones for barring direct access to your heart. Right now, though, he’s almost content with a body in his grasp, a pulse fluttering under his lips.

God help him, he’s been starving for this.

[cenorii]

Headcanons about Oldsker

I drew him quite a lot, so I managed to form an opinion about him. Yes, officially Oldsker exists only in our heads, but that doesn't stop us from coming up with something about him. Who is he? Read here.

— Of course, my main hedcanon is his appearance:

— I think Oldsker is the perfect version of Wesker, the final stage of his personal evolution. It's not only the result of his personal growth, but also the result of Capcom's labors to make a complete and final version of the character that will include all the notes and previous games, creating a coherent image out of all the vast information there is about him.

— Having limited himself all his life, Wesker was able to go all out after the volcano. Now that he wasn't bound by the confines of Spencer's upbringing, nor held back by the fulfillment of his dreams, he felt free. Now he was like a child who had been told by his parents to "do whatever you want." Wesker, who had never used foul language before, might start doing it. Wesker, who previously didn't drink and despised bad habits, might try them. Long hair and a different clothing style? He's just getting started. He's free and will probe that feeling in absolutely everything. Acting like a silly joker on the street? Easy. Create the image of the urban lunatic around him as a disguise? Oh yes, he likes that. He's free and his name no longer constrains him, because he'll change it too.

— I think Wesker got tired of having the same hairstyle for 50 years, styling his hair every morning, and so on. And he's already 61. Feeling completely free, like a teenager craving self-expression, he will grow his hair out and not care about styling at all. The only thing he will do with his hair is wash it. He doesn't even need a blow dryer anymore, just a towel, because now he loves himself any way he can. And he no longer needs to be "perfect" to like himself.

— He hasn't gotten rid of the habit of wearing sunglasses, but he really needs it to fit in with society. His eyes still tend to glow with emotion, and basically have an unconventional look. It's unlikely that colored contact lenses can override something so unusual.

— He doesn't forget about Chris. For Chris, Wesker's "death" means a lot, thanks to this event Chris realized that his fight was worth the lives saved. But for Wesker, this event is also very important. He has revised absolutely his entire life, changing the way he approaches it.

— Chris is his obsession. Wesker admires him, hates him, loves him, despises him, loves him, and so it is every day… every day is his struggle with feelings he is not familiar with, but tries to understand. Wesker has become free of any restraints, but the walls that were erected around his feelings still stand. And that's why he's such a noob in feelings, he doesn't know what he's feeling or how to describe it. That's why his relationship with Chris is so confused… He created Chris clones for some new purpose, but the purpose is just an excuse for his real attitude towards Chris.

— He continues to pursue his hobby and creates various weapons and names them after himself, paying homage to his "past life". Thanks to "Albert Wesker" he realized what he wanted out of life, and because of him he became the man he is today.

— I like the name Michael Baxter from this theory. I think that even though it's a weird nickname, it would be a great fit for Oldsker instead of his past name that was given to him by Umbrella and Spencer. He'd obviously want to stop being associated with "Wesker" because it's a dirty and disgusting project. But would he want to stop being Albert? Perhaps the name is too catchy and would expose his whole new image. So he would want to change his name completely, renouncing his past self.

— Oldsker hasn't changed, he's just become liberated and free. Perhaps there are scars on his body that have not been healed by regeneration, due to his powers becoming weaker.

— He probably knows Karl Heisenberg. It's unlikely to be any kind of close acquaintance, but they could very well turn out to be conversation partners by correspondence. Karl could be telling Oldsker about Miranda's plans, and Oldsker could be chattering unrestrainedly about Chris and his plans for him.

— Perhaps freedom would turn his head a little and he'd look for himself in completely unexpected directions. How about…writing a novel? Can this Wesker write NSFW about him and Chris? 😳

[lrithill]

Of Black and White (Art x gn! reader)

Hi everyone,

This is a fanfic I started writing after having a  bad day at university and realizing I desperately needed Art to... comfort me.

And honestly, I just realized how incredibly therapeutic writing can be, because it genuinely made me feel so much better. I was actually laughing and having a good time while writing it.

Summary: After a day that shatters you more than you dare admit, you come home, unsure how Art will face your sorrow. What you find is terrifying and beautiful: a love too deep for words, and a future as fragile as a candle trembling in the rain.

Warnings: Extreme fluff, free pizza (for reasons), violence (but in a joyful context), the deepest kind of romance, crying (both from sadness and happiness), true love.

I wanted this to be a gender-neutral reader fanfic so that everyone could feel represented.

I tried not to mention anything that could hint at the reader's gender.

I hope I did it right—it's my first time trying!

It's hilarious how you can literally see the evolution of my mood throughout this fic—it starts off all sad and gloomy, and then slowly climbs its way back up into my usual style, full of humor, romance, violence... cozy violence (yes, I’m calling it that).

I started this as something silly and quick, but as always... it had to evolve into a nearly 5,000-word emotional one-shot. I was honestly moved by the ending—like, wow... feelings happened.

So I ended up crying agaaaaain…

The title "Of Black and White" is not merely about colors, but about the fierce contrasts that shape the story: happines and sadness, love and pain, light and shadow, life and death.

Also, this was possibly the hardest fanfic I've ever written so far, because it was really challenging to write this more "human" version of Art without making him too OOC (though at the beginning I totally took some liberties, because I needed the fluffiest fluff ever to exist).

PLUS, I spent like two weeks just thinking about ONE SINGLE PARAGRAPH that was absolutely RUINING MY LIFE.

And trust me—you'll know exactly which one it is when you read it. It was insanely difficult.

I mean, it's already hard enough to pull something like that off in my first language... now imagine trying to do it in a language that's not even mine. Holy Christ.

But honestly, with Art, it could never have been any other way.

Those lines had to be precise, razor-sharp...

They had to go deeper inside than Art’s dick ever could (and that says a lot).

(I don't want to spoil anything, but I'll just say that every gif I use is for a reason).

It was a strange day. One of those days that can’t quite decide whether it’s the last breath of winter or the first yawn of spring. A dry, howling wind—as dry as the desert—scratched at your eyes and filled your lungs with burning sand.

And yet, in the shade, the humidity soaked you to the bone, as if sadness itself were trying to bloom inside you in the form of mushrooms.

But you’d be lying if you said that was what was bothering you. Your irritated eyes, your tight chest, your uncomfortable body... they weren’t complaining about the outside world—but the inside one.

And you realized—with a kind of cruel irony—that this dissonant weather was the perfect mirror of your emotional wreckage: a chaotic storm hammering at your temples.

You were heading home in a rush, with the urgency of someone who doesn’t want to be seen. You didn’t want to run into anyone, and if you had… you probably wouldn’t have noticed—because you didn’t have it in you to lift your eyes from the ground, let alone meet someone’s gaze.

Well… maybe one gaze.

You’re not a serious person. You don’t usually get angry at anyone, much less hurt them—you don’t want to.

And that person… He isn’t used to seeing you sad, to feeling you distant, to the silence of a shadow without arms—you have no idea how he’s going to react to all this. Will he become your emotional support clown? Will he laugh at you? Will he vanish for days like you’re some sickly plant that needs to be left alone to recover?

You stormed into the building like a burglar. You opened the door with the kind of anxiety that wants to phase through matter. You climbed the stairs—those endless stairs. Everything was a gray blur—no edges, no contrast—a tasteless fog you swallowed without thinking. A grayness you longed to turn into something more legible: a balance of black and white.

And finally, your front door. You made a beeline for your room—craving your pajamas, your bed, a splash of fresh water to rinse away the tears, anything that would feel soft against your skin.

You greeted Art in passing, who was half-asleep on the couch—probably recharging before heading out to cause his usual nighttime chaos. He barely managed to let out a groggy “Honk!” before you vanished upstairs without looking back.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him…

It was that you didn’t want him to see you like this.

And that… that is what truly unsettles him.

Art is used to your greetings being full of kisses and laughter, with hugs and playful shoves. You, who speak to him like a well-tuned violin; you, who drown him in affection as naturally as breathing. And he—who is all flesh and expression, who loves through the body, who needs those gestures like a dancer needs music.

So, he slowly sits up, stretching and yawning in an exaggerated  motion. He sniffs the air, trying to detect any traces of menstrual blood in your scent—just in case it might explain your behavior—but no. Nothing.

It’s another kind of scent that reaches him—familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

He rolls up his sleeve to check the time on his invisible watch and nods with confident flair.

“Cue the sad music… it’s time for the clown to step into the spotlight. ”

Art climbs the wooden stairs, careful not to make a sound, dodging every creaky board—he knows them by heart, like a spider that knows each thread of its web.

Upstairs, your bedroom door is slightly ajar. He peeks in cautiously—scouting the terrain before making his entrance. He sees you lying on the bed, turned away from him, silently sobbing into a pillow, your arms coiled tightly around it.

An invisible knife cuts through his heart at the sight.

He can’t help but collapse dramatically against the wall, gazing up at the ceiling, one hand clutching his chest. Not because he’s sorrowful—but because he’s offended. 

Offense. Pure, undignified offense.

“What does that pillow have that I don’t? And why haven’t I turned it to ashes yet?”, he thinks, hurt.

But he collects himself. He’ll deal with that plush lover later—with all the fury a pillow fight can offer.

He slips through the door quietly—just wide enough to let his lean body in—and closes it back to exactly how it was, careful not to disturb the soft, shadowy cocoon you’d created.

He kneels by the edge of the bed, and—for one fleeting second—the thought of honking right into your ear crosses his mind. (Intrusive thoughts… are strong). But he resists—he’s clearly fighting for your affection against a dangerously cuddly rival.

Instead, he gently lets himself fall beside you, doing his best not to disturb you. His arms carefully wrap around your waist; you feel his chest against your back, his breath brushing softly across your shoulders. The sensation is warm, soothing, intimate… and it makes you blush, pulling an involuntary first smile from your lips.

His hands go searching for yours—as they always do—to interlace your fingers. Needing your warmth, your touch... connection.

When—

BAM!

To hell with the pillow.

Art runs into it before he finds your hands and hurls it against the wall at the speed of light—with all the jealousy and rage the world has ever known. Had there been a window, it would’ve landed in the neighbor’s house.

“I’ll pluck every feather from your body later,” he thinks, with the kind of anger he saves only for those foolish enough to touch you—already sentencing it to a slow, velvety death.

You look at him, stunned, blinking at the sudden, unprovoked assault.

His expression softens instantly when your eyes meet his.

Now his hands change course, reaching for your hair, gently brushing back a few strands from your face... just so he can really see you.

And he stays there, silent, watching you: Swollen lips, red eyes, tears still sliding down your chin...

It’s a face he’s seen a hundred times—on other people, in other moments, usually under flickering lights or right before a final scream—but somehow, seeing it on you... it’s like the first time. It doesn’t amuse him like it usually would, he doesn’t want to make it worse… in fact, he doesn’t even want to keep looking at it.

He leans in and kisses you—softly.

Sloppy kisses—silly, clumsy, innocent… One after another; like summer rain.

You feel his lips brushing yours gently—soft, playful. Kisses landing on your lower lip, at the corners of your mouth—like butterflies. His tongue peeks out timidly, just enough to graze you, never to intrude.

He’s not trying to seduce you.

He’s trying to comfort you… and somehow, he's doing a surprisingly good job.

His mouth finds the salty trail of a tear and follows it, drinks it, erases it. He cleans the droplets on your chin with trembling lips as if they were little stalactites—like he’s trying to absorb the pain directly from your skin.

You think about speaking. About telling him how grateful you are for this—how much his presence, his gestures, his way of loving you… actually calms you.

But you choose silence instead—letting your body say it all. Letting your fingers, your breath, the gentle movement of your mouth over his, speak for you. Letting your body language talk to him the way his talks to you—you speak the same language, the kind that doesn’t need translation.

Because in this moment—strange, warm, intimate—you both know there’s nothing more to say.

You bring your hands to his face—and gently—guide him, laying him down beside you. Never stopping the kisses… never breaking the spell.

Now you’re both fully lying down, on the same level. Eyes closed—though every now and then, Art sneaks one open to spy on your face (he still can’t quite believe how much you like kissing him).

Your bodies curl into a human nest, arms and legs tangled comfortably in a tight, warm embrace, full of tenderness—no urgency, no hunger, no desire. Just love.

You caress his face with one hand, and with the other, you gently guide his hand toward your lips—kissing his fingers, his knuckles, the back of his hand, his wrists… You feel the fine hairs on his arm rise, and how that wave travels upward, upward, like your kisses were a gentle electric current.

Art pulls back slightly and takes a deep breath—releasing it in a sigh that can only mean… peace.

There’s a soft, innocent smile on his lips now, and a light blush blooming on his cheeks—he can’t help it.

Then, he moves his hand away from your mouth.

Your brow furrows, just a little, puzzled.

But the confusion turns to wonder in an instant.

Because you see what Art is doing.

He lifts the pinky finger of his right hand. "I"

He crosses the index and middle fingers of both hands, then opens them wide. "love"

He points at you with his index finger. "you"

You don’t know much sign language—yet. But you had asked Art to teach you some important things.

And this—this one in particular—was one of the first you’d wanted to learn.

It’s the first time you see him doing it for real. No rehearsals. No jokes. No distractions...

And something in your chest melts sweetly.

Your eyes well up with tears—and this time, they’re tears of joy—and Art looks even more confused.

He watches you in silence, tilting his head with that trademark perplexed expression. His eyes scan your face with that curious look he gets when he doesn’t understand what’s going on—when he’s starting to suspect he might be the sane one in the room.

“Why do I always make people cry?” he wonders, proud of himself in the most frustrating way possible.

Then, as always, he decides the best way to handle discomfort… is to make it his own.

He throws himself at you with ridiculous theatrics and pulls you into a tight hug. So tight your face ends up smashed against his chest, barely able to breathe.

He starts repeating the “I love you” gesture again in sign language… but now in the most utterly chaotic, clumsy, exaggerated way possible—his hands flailing like a mute, stuttering ADHD octopus.

His movements are visual mayhem. Adorable mayhem.

And that—that pulls a laugh out of you, scattering the tears.

Art always seems like an emotional disaster, and yet he has this incredible ability to make you feel better—even when he has no idea what he’s doing. (A good clown, after all—if we ignore the whole “murder” thing—could probably brighten up a birthday or two.)

You try to mimic the gesture too, as best you can, but Art’s hugs aren’t bear hugs, they’re bear traps.

So all you can do is... shout.

“I LOVE YOU TOO! I LOVE YOU TOO!” you yell against his chest, hoping your ribs survive.

Your ribs will survive.

But your heart—most certainly—won’t.

That night, Art came back at a surprisingly reasonable hour—It was exactly 12:00 a.m. on the dot.

He rang your doorbell—as usual—covered in blood like a walking clot. He was in a great mood, even more than usual.

Art, unlike the rest of us mortals, always finishes work with renewed vitality—and, well… reduced vitality from others.

He kissed you carefully, trying not to get too much blood on you—though let’s be honest, nothing was going to save you from the butt slap.

He headed straight to the shower, no detours, which was… another sign that something was off.

Art’s just happy to see me happy again, and he doesn’t want to mess it up, you thought.

It had been a long day, and the only thing you truly needed now was something easy and comforting to eat.

So, in an act of pure wisdom, you decided to order pizza.

Art is sitting next to you on the couch when the doorbell rings:

DING DONG!

He doesn’t even need a second to think. His head snaps toward the door like a hunting dog that just sensed the delivery guy from miles away.

He throws you a knowing look, a mischievous little grin over his shoulder as he walks by. His eyebrows bounce playfully, his tongue shamelessly licking his lips.

I always have to be the one to order, but honestly? Worth it, you think to yourself, never taking your eyes off him.

"50 SECONDS IS YOUR RECORD!" you shout from the couch, stopwatch in hand.

Art strides toward the door with purpose, plants himself in front of it, and before opening it, does a few breathing exercises like an actor prepping for a major monologue.

And then...

CREEEAAAK...

He opens the door—slowly, dramatically. The hinge wails like a portal to hell. The door groans so loud, so cursed, it sounds like it’s haunted by its own misery.

On the other side, the delivery guy stands, smiling with the pizza in hand. But that smile lasts approximately 0.2 seconds.

Because facing him is not Art’s "few friends" face—it’s his "DEAD friends" face.

*In my language, there's an expression used to describe someone who looks unfriendly — we say they 'have a face of few. friends' That's where the joke comes from, because Art doesn't just have the face of someone with few friends; he looks like he killed them. I couldn't find a close way to translate it into English, so I'm explaining it here.*

“C-cash or… card, sir?” the poor guy whispers, holding the box out with visibly trembling hands.

Art looks up, feigns deep thought and then—

ZAS!

In an impossible quick motion, Art pulls his hands from behind his back and stabs the pizza from below, impaling it with something that is neither cash nor card.

“Big knife… or BIGGER knife?” his eyes say. 

The delivery guy goes paler than Art’s face. He watches the tomato sauce drip and suddenly… empathise—sees himself in that pizza’s place.

He drops the box—now skewered—and bolts down the stairs like a bat out of hell.

Art wipes away a tear from laughing too hard, soaking in the chaos.

“HONK! HONK! HONK!”

He curses out his mother through the horn, watching him run down the stairs, watching him completely lose it on the way down, watching more than one open fracture stick out, watching with absolute certainty that he won’t be making it to the hospital.

Finally, with the pizza in hand, he shuts the door and lifts the lid. The smell of melted cheese fills the room, blending with the lingering aura of natural terror and fresh trauma, setting the perfect mood for a romantic dinner.

Art sets it down on the table and plops beside you, sliding an arm around your shoulders—radiating the pride of an elite psychopath who plays competitively "Bring food, or become food.”

He looks at you like he just pulled off the stunt of a lifetime.

Which, to you, he absolutely did.

You’ll never have to pay for delivery again (though yes, you do need to rotate food places every two weeks to avoid investigations—but hey, free food is free food).

“48 SECONDS, BABY!!!!” you announce, stopping the timer, and clap your hands. “Gold medal for the champion,” you say, pretending to place an imaginary medal around his neck.

Art gives you a high five, already munching on a slice—still impaled, of course, because using hands is way too basic for him.

But now comes the interesting part—the reason Art was so cheerful when he arrived.

The movie you were watching suddenly gets interrupted by breaking news.

You glance at Art—who’s wearing a picture-perfect expression of surprise, his mouth forming a flawless "O." He turns to look at you, keeping that same face, as if he had absolutely no idea what’s about to be said.

📢 BREAKING NEWS — MILES COUNTY DIARY📢

"At 10:38 p.m., two bodies were found on the outskirts of Miles County, next to a video camera. The investigation team has confirmed that the footage shows the presence of Art, the infamous homicidal clown. Authorities are urging residents to stay indoors, lock all doors and windows. The following images contain graphic violence. Viewer discretion is advised. This material may be disturbing for some audiences. Watch at your own risk."

"What is this, Art?" you ask, genuinely confused.

Art simply points at the screen, smiling wide, eyes sparkling with excitement—he’s only missing a tub of popcorn, though the pizza works just as well.

"I love how they say ‘stay indoors, lock all doors and windows,’" you say, chuckling. "Because obviously I’m going to do all that… with my homicidal clown already inside."

You both burst out laughing at the irony.

The footage begins—Art raises a finger to his lips, signaling a “shhh”.

The recording starts with a jarring camera shake, as if someone had hit “record” by accident… or abruptly. The image wobbles for a few seconds before stabilizing, revealing a deeply unsettling scene:

A man tied to a chair, duct tape wrapped tightly around his torso, wrists, and ankles. He’s in a dark room, lit only by a single harsh, yellowish spotlight hanging above his head, casting a long, trembling shadow on the wall behind him.

“Please… I don’t want to diiiie,” he pleads through clenched teeth, looking straight into the camera.

Art swings the camera side to side, shaking it as if to say “no”—so even the audience gets the message… though he hasn’t shown himself yet.

He walks up to the man and gently strokes his hair—as if to comfort him—bringing the camera in close to capture his bruised face and glassy eyes—with dilated pupils. It looks like Art injected him with something to keep him awake.

It seems there are wires at the base of his neck—subtle, almost hidden—, as they trail behind his head.

“Wh-what do you want from me…?” the man whispers, trembling.

Art then pulls out a knife and shows it to him—the man freezes, eyes locked on the blade.

Art passes the knife slowly near his Adam’s apple, not quite touching it.

“I have a wife… she’s pregnant…” the man blurts out, trying to appeal to some flicker of mercy.

Art finally turns the camera toward himself for the first time. He makes an exaggerated pout, clearly heartbroken by the situation, clearly full of sympathy, clearly… performing.

“You’ll never know what love is!” the man spits at him, desperate and furious.

Art pauses.

He points to himself with a skeptical face…then points to the man’s face… then back to himself again—like a sarcastic seesaw, a pantomime of disbelief.

As if to say:

“Are you sure about that?”

Then, he lifts his hat and—

TADA!

He pulls out a photo of you. He doesn’t show it to the camera, but he holds it up to the man with a reverent gesture. So proud and happy.

He turns the camera back to his own face, now wearing a smug, satisfied smile. He kisses the photo with a dainty little “mwah”, presses it to his chest where his heart is, and tucks it safely away again.

Without warning, he points a gun at the man.

The man freezes in pure, bone-deep terror.

Art hands him a piece of paper, neatly folded.

But the guy’s wrists are still tied, so Art very helpfully proceeds to stab one of his hands repeatedly, destroying it completely before leaving it free enough to hold the paper.

The man screams in agony—his hand now practically useless, bones poking through like shattered twigs.

Art just laughs—though you don’t hear it. But you see it: shoulders shaking, chest bouncing, tongue poking out playfully from the corner of his mouth.

He steps back a few paces, angling the camera to get a perfect wide shot, making sure to capture every second of the show.

The man is trembling. Crying. Begging. Bleeding. 

Art makes a very clear gesture with the gun.

Read.

The man swallows hard, sobbing, and begins to read out loud the handwritten message from the killer himself:

“You are the sky stretched over my hell, the bloom that rose where my body fell, the nightmare I long for, night after night, the fall I crave, more than the flight. I no longer know if this is a curse— for every drop of blood forgets its path, and every stream, no matter how dire, leads back to you through pain and desire. It must be a curse—this aching delight, that makes me weak and steals my fight. It makes me fear what I never did: not monsters or death—but feelings I hid. I fear to die—drenched in endless black. I fear your death—I'd bleed the heavens to bring you back. Treachery’s the sin most deeply damned— a sin I never knew, until today. And now I’d drown, with pride and grace, in Cocytus’ cold, in death’s embrace— for you have made me turn on me, and crowned me my worst enemy. You were my first delicious mistake, and you’ll be the final breath I’ll take. So I ask you now—divine, unholy— Will you marry me, my one and only?”

*In Dante's Divine Comedy, the lake Cocytus is the ninth and final circle of Hell, an immense frozen wasteland where traitors are punished. This icy region is marked by the extreme cold caused by Lucifer's wings, meant to punish betrayal.*

You're completely absorbed in the recording.

And that last line—that line—snaps you back to reality like a bucket of cold water… or cold blood.

Your soul slams back into your body, and for the umpteenth time today, your eyes well up with tears.

Because when you turn your head…

Art is no longer sitting on the couch.

He’s not there.

He’s no longer beside you.

He’s kneeling on the floor… with a small black box in his hand, holding a beautiful ring that looks like it was forged in the most intimate corner of hell.

In his other hand, he holds a bouquet of ghost flowers—pale Monotropa uniflora. 

Their waxy, translucent stems trembling like glass on the verge of breaking—white, ethereal, eerie, spectral… yet real. 

Just like him.

Rootless things that bloom in the dark, feeding on decay, and yet… so full of beauty. He offers them with care, as if they were precious, impossible things. 

The recording is still playing, but nothing’s happening—As if even past Art is holding his breath, waiting for your answer.

“Oh… Art…”

You can’t find the words. Your throat tightens, but an undeniable smile blooms across your face.

“Yes. Of course yes! I’ve never wanted anything more in my life… I LOVE YOU.”

You kneel down to hug him, not even looking at the perfect ring waiting for your finger… honestly, nothing seems more perfect right now than your… husband.

Art sets the box and the bouquet gently on the table and lifts you up in a hug that sweeps your feet off the ground.

And he kisses you like it’s the first time—which, in a way, it is.

The first time—as spouses.

The recording flickers back to life: romantic music begins to play, a soft waltz worthy of an enchanted, bizarre wedding.

Of course Art planned this. Of course it went flawlessly.

You start dancing without thinking, without speaking… just floating.

The moment couldn’t be more dreamlike—you never imagined, as a child, that your proposal would look anything like this—but honestly… it’s unbeatable.

On screen, the other Art appears again—he’s applauding, blowing kisses at the camera, wiping away an invisible tear.

He signals to the man beside him, gesturing for him to clap as well—as if he knows—as if he can somehow see what’s happening right now on the other side of the screen.

While you and Art keep dancing, video-Art—visibly satisfied—, takes a step back.

With a final bow, he steps away from the man and pulls out a small detonator. 

He smiles wide, eyes darkening with a slow, delicious malice.

Your Art points to the screen, urging you to watch.

Video-Art presses the button and—

For a moment, nothing happens.

And then—

BAAAAM 

The man’s head explodes in a monstrous fireball, accompanied by homemade fireworks—a burst of color, violence and celebration.

His brains go flying, scattered through the air like confetti. Blood gushes out like a fountain, a crimson rain of eternal love.

Video-Art jumps with joy, twirling under the blood shower—it turned out exactly as he’d planned.

He holds up a finger in a 'wait a minute' gesture, then casually walks off, as if he's gone to get something

The music keeps playing.

Then he reappears, now dancing with… another headless body?

(Maybe the first take wasn’t good enough).

And the scene continues.

Music and blood.

Dance and delirium.

Death and the corpse entering and exiting frame with hypnotic steps.

And you, without thinking, keep dancing too—dancing with your own sweet death.

As you kiss him, as you caress his face, your hearts beat in sync—chest to chest, as if trying to merge into one.

Art reaches for the box again from the table. His eyes are glowing, eager to see how beautifully the ring fits your hand.

The ring he made himself.

He shows it to you, and this time, you finally take in every detail that the rush of emotion had blurred before.

It’s elegant—it’s perfect. Exactly the right proportions for your finger.

Tiny jewels are embedded in the ring: obsidian and pearls, mirroring his own colors—as if his essence had crystallized inside the ring.

His, on the other hand, is not nearly as ornate—you could say he poured all his effort into yours.

Or perhaps, for him, it was enough to have something that simply matched you.

And then you see the inside.

And on the inner band, there’s a detail so deliberate it actually frightens you—frightens you with how carefully Art prepared this moment.

Etched with almost reverent precision, something leaves you breathless:

Your names.

Together.

Engraved like a prayer—or maybe an eternal curse.

There’s no way to tell which.

It’s beautiful. And it’s yours.

You start to slide the ring onto your finger… but Art stops you.

He takes your hand gently, and he’s the one to slip the ring on, watching with deep satisfaction as it fits perfectly.

Of course it does.

He made it for you—maybe that’s why he was always staring at your hands with such devotion.

"I love you, Art. Forever," you whisper, admiring your hand—now complete.

Art kisses your hand in response, his eyes glowing with emotion.

"Your turn," you say with a soft smile, holding his ring now.

He offers his hand a little shyly, and you kiss it gently, reassuringly. You feel his whole body relax beneath your touch.

You slide the ring onto his finger, and yes—it fits perfectly too.

And then your hands find each other—fingers lacing together like puzzle pieces finally reunited after a long, winding search.

You look at each other, you smile and… for a moment, you see someone else. Or rather, you see something in him you’d never seen before.

There’s the faintest gloss in Art’s eyes, like something unspoken stirred him.

You’ve never seen him cry—and he certainly can’t remember the last time he did… if he ever did at all.

But you didn't get the chance to read it, to piece it together—to make sense of it.

Because, suddenly, the light fades—

The video ends at that exact moment—as if past Art had sensed a tear slipping out, and decided to protect himself in the future by cutting away just in time.

The music fades.

The tv-screen goes black.

And the room is left in total darkness.

There’s nothing left now… but this:

The kisses.

The embraces.

The darkness.

The silence dance.

The presence.

The warmth.

One for the other, forever.

The next morning, you couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened.

You’re not even sure Art fully understands what marriage means (besides owning a perpetual hostage)—and maybe, yes; it was impulsive.

But then you remember… Art lives every day on the edge of death.

That thought always brings a quiet, heavy sadness that settles in your chest, and you can’t shake it.

Because deep down, you know your relationship won’t last forever.

Not because the love will fade—but because he will.

Quite literally, any day could be his last. 

And he knows it.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to lose the chance to marry you—before he ran out of time to do it.

Before the day comes when you no longer have to worry about blood-soaked clown shoe prints to clean.

Before the day comes when he stops showing up at your door.

Before the day comes when there's nothing left of him but the quiet.

Before the day you realize he's already gone.

Thank you for reading all the way to the end.

You could say you just read a little piece of my soul—I truly poured my feelings into this, especially into Art’s poem.

I adore writing poetry, and even if it’s not exactly perfect, I believe I managed to express everything I wanted to in the best way I could.

While I was writing the ending, I couldn’t help but shed a few tears, because at that point, it wasn’t the reader speaking anymore—it was me, thinking about everything I had written and why.

I think I hadn't fully realized that someday, I’ll have to say goodbye to Art for real—that I’ll never see him on the big screen again.

But that’s necessary, and it can't be any other way.

This character truly is so special, and even though I want him to have the most brutal, torturous death in the whole franchise—because he absolutely deserves it...

I’m not ready to watch him die.

Also, this is what the bouquet of ghost flowers kind of looked like:

[cadence-the-hypnotic-floret]

HDG and BPD

So Human Domestication Guide, as a setting, is very much built as comfort food for mentally ill, disabled trans folks (not judging, I'm at least two mentally ill sophonts 🤭), but one bit that didn't quite shine through to me until a moment ago is the Borderline Personality Disorder connection. More specifically, the "favorite person" phenomenon.

A floret's affini is their favorite person. They are utterly dependent on their owner, including on an interpersonal level. Thanks to biorhythms, the floret can feel what their owner feels, in a very deep, visceral way that directly influences their emotional state. They are desperate for praise and acceptance, the worst thing imaginable to them is disappointing their owner, and they often spend time gazing up at their owner in a hazy bliss, as though watching an angelic figure and being awestruck by their beauty as the rest of the world decoheres around them.

In turn, the affini is the perfect caretaker for their floret. The influence they wield over the person who adores them is typically clear and intentional. They promise to never abandon you, and they mean it in ways a real person never could, and can force you to believe them. They actually will take all that pain away from you. When you look upon them as larger-than-life, idealized entities, you're not so much putting them on a pedestal they couldn't live up to as you are accurately describing your relationship to them, and they foster that view intentionally and accurately. There is no equality between Terran and Affini.

This is, to put it bluntly, a relationship dynamic I am deeply familiar with. I have stared at someone for minutes at a time, certain that they have a halo and can do no wrong. I drove that same person away in no small part because the version of them that existed in reality kept chafing against the idea of them I was too infatuated with to get rid of. I have caught myself entering that same dangerous emotional spiral with a fellow author I've been collaborating with, thankfully quite early on.

A few harsh reminders seem necessary here.

If you seek the kind of mindless surrender a floret has from another sophont, check to make sure that the sophont you seek that from is aware of this, and make sure that you are seeing them, the person, not merely an afterimage in your head. Be careful! This dynamic is rife with opportunities for self-delusion and manipulation, and often, you cannot trust your rational brain to handle it well. I want nothing more than the absolution hinted at in Anathema in Blue chapter 4... But it would be deeply unhealthy and unethical to seek that out without dealing with some of my own baggage, or saddling the author with my perception of her author insert character.

If you are on the other side of this dynamic, particularly if you have the brand of narcissism that makes you want that kind of mindless adulation (typically talking about "Worship Kink" is a sign that you might wanna take stock, speaking from experience here), make sure you're aware of the dangerous power differential, and make sure your partner is aware of these warning signs. Being on the receiving end of an FP relationship can be incredibly rough, especially once you start to diverge from the idea of you they had in their head.

Oof. Not fun stuff.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to making a worship file based on Anathema in Blue chapter 4, because frankly this bee isn't leaving my bonnet until I process it. Have you read Anathema in Blue? Lady Lysanthae is bae.

🥰

[liulith]

Sir Pentious & Alastor: an underrated dynamic

"Show yourself, Alastor! Come and face--! Oh, there you are. FACE MY WRATH!"

Sir Pentious has been in Hell for much longer than Alastor. That means he was there when the Radio Demon appeared, and he's been trying to overthrow Alastor for decades! We know what Alastor is capable of, and what he could do if he truly wanted Sir Pentious to stop. He obviously doesn't register Sir Pentious as a threat, but that doesn't mean he's not annoying (like when he interrupts his song in the pilot and destroys a wall in ep2). Yet in all those decades, Alastor always let him go with the equivalent of a slap on the wrist, considering what he's done to other sinners in his broadcasts.

And why is that? Why, he must find Sir Pentious very entertaining, of course! Even though he calls Sir Pentious forgettable (to rile him up), there's no way a narcissist like him doesn't LOVE being the main focus of Pentious' "evil plans", as pathetic as they are. Not only does he give him the attention he deserves (like Vox), he's a true "architect of evil" who constantly reinvents himself to try and get the upper hand on Alastor. To Alastor, Pentious is like a sillier, weaker, more immature version of Vox with close to ZERO survival instincts but twice the creativity. Even Vox, who made a whole diss track about Al, wouldn't dare speak to him the way Sir Pentious does if they were face to face.

"SILENCE! Now cower! For when I've ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal."

He does have some "oh shit" moments when he sees he crossed a line/is about to get Team Rocket-ed, but he still gets back up and attacks him again with all the unearned confidence of a man who has no idea how easy Alastor goes on him.

Just like Alastor, Pentious is attached to the aesthetics and technology of the time period he knew when he was alive, and still manages to innovate with those limitations. I think Alastor could respect that.

"You whores have no class! In war, the side remembered is the side with the most style!"

It's also funny that to Pentious, Alastor is the young, modern one. Some phrases Alastor uses are "young people slang" to him!

Pentious asking Alastor questions on his "modern" radio technology...

Alastor is one sarcastic bastard, and Sir Pent is one of the most naive characters in the show. He takes a lot of things way too literally (#autism?). That's just PERFECT for comedic misunderstandings between these two!

Before s1 was released there were quite a lot of ace!Pentious headcanons. I think we could still make a case for closeted ace-adjacent!Pentious in canon! Possibility even aroace!Pentious, if we interpret his crush on Cherri as compulsive heteronormativity (he loves her creative genius and is fascinated by her explosive contraptions; surely that means she's the one, right?)

Ace4Ace Alastor & Pentious would be a fun duo in my opinion. They could bond over their shared experience

On the topic of bonding... ("I have feelings for you" (Narrator voice: the feeling was friendship, but he had ever experienced it before)

Seriously, imagine Sir Pentious spending more and more time around Alastor because of the hotel, taking his sarcastic and mocking remarks literally and thinking they're becoming closer... And then being like. WAIT. Do I have feelings for him?? and trying to seduce him like he does with Cherri Bomb. The absolute shenanigans... Rizzlord Pentious strikes again.

Accidental fake dating scenario that only exists in Vox's head, where Vox, being the stalker that he is, spies in the two of them bonding and reaches all the wrong conclusions

Once Sir Pentious dies for the second time and ascends to Heaven, he could meet Alastor's mom 👀

EDIT: OH and How could I forget the Egg Boiz?? Egg Boiz babysitter!Alastor is canon and he definitely babysat them multiple times in the few months Sir Pentious spent at the hotel. Joint custody :3

AND let's not forget the important information that Frank the Egg Boy reported to Sir Pentious lol. The one Charlie made a deal with Alastor for. I can imagine Alastor considering killing the Egg Boiz/ Sir Pentious after learning Frank didn't keep quiet (Imagine Sir Pentious trying to engage in a conversation w/ Alastor and telling him what Frank told him as a joke akfkkd), spending a whole afternoon trailing after them and making plans, only to realise that the Egg Boiz say insane shit all the time and Sir Pentious was in fact NOT playing 4D chess by telling him he knew (and probably already forgot all about it)

[absolutebl]

(Asking for recs bc you're the only one who gives me exactly what I want)

I don't know if what im looking for even exists, but I'm gonna try asking anyway. I'm looking for something that gives me the vibes of Beyond Evil, but outwardly queer (implied is fine too, ig), or Hannibal, The Devil Judge, High-school frenemy etc. Basically morally grey/unhinged freaks who would die/kill for each other. And I know you don't watch censored Chinese shows but I absolutely adore Word of Honor, The Untamed and Justice in the Dark. All of them involve someone who believes they cannot be redeemed being loved.

I've watched Triage and 4 minutes and I liked those too bc it's very plot heavy and the romance sorta happens as part of the plot. I do not like MAME, or anything adjacent.

Again idek if this ask is even possible. And I apologise for being all over the place. Save me, absolutebl, save me.

Hum, morality chain characters I think is what you're after. Or even murder husbands.

So have you tried SCI Mysteries AKA S.C.I (2018)?

Old guard partly Hong Kong produced censored Chinese BL. They pretend they're something else but they married. Back in the day I found it on YouTube but not sure who officially hosts it now. I would call it Beyond Evil x Trapped + police procedural.

Have you considered Addicted? Odd choice but I suspect it might work for you. Or Where Your Eyes Linger, if you're okay with high school characters.

And there is Long Time No See of course. You should watch that immediately if you haven't already.

Finally, there is Guardian (2018) to consider.

It's an odd creature with extremely chewy world building, but it is very much in the vein of the stuff you like. Not exactly those tropes though. It's so hard to describe. Be warned, you looking at 40 eps of 45 min each. (I think it still holds the crown as longest BL.) It is a BL, just very censored. Still if you want to be distracted for a very long time this might be what you're looking for.

Other's I can think of off the top of my head:

Laws of Attraction* (have you seen this? It certainly has some characters with that perfect unhinged quality to them)

Manner of Death

Lovely Writer (maybe a little)

KinnPorsche maybe?

The Eclipse

3 Will Be Free

Big Dragon

Not Me

The Heart Killers

My Stand-In

The Thai ones simply have less of an edge to them. They will go sappy and only 1/2 of the couple is morally grey but they're there if your desperate.

HIStory Obsessed

HIStory 3: Trapped

HIStory 4: Close to You has a crazy side couple with this dynamic.

Kiseki: Dear to Me (definitely the sides)

I have a sinking suspicion I'm missing something from Taiwan. These also will have less edge.

Tien Bromance from Vietnam has some of this quality to it but it's quite raw.

Some cray cray from Japan:

Happy of the End

Double Mints (if you wanna go unhinged and dark just go there?)

Same Difference AKA Docchi Mo Docchi (the office version) and then there is Beloved Enemy from China, an even more messy office version, and China's Capture Lover which is a nicer version.

Dangerous Drugs of Sex AKA Sei no Gekiyaku (the ultra kinky version)

Dominant Yakuza and Wimpy Corporate Slave AKA Ore-sama Yakuza to Hetare Shachiku: Kuni wo Koeta Jingi Naki Dekiai (it's short tho)

But those are all, ya know, Japan being all Japanish about it. Gotta like their style which is very different from the Korean and Chinese stuff you seem to like best.

Okay hopefully something works? Let me know, okay? I'm curious to see if I was right on anything.

[mythalism]

So i've heard one FFXIV expansion was the perfect exact Solas story blueprint the writer definitely played and should have followed step by step for great success. I see you say cyberpunk was the perfect exact Solas story blueprint the writer definitely played and should have followed step by step for great success.

Both statements are pretty intriguing !! I don't know either so I'm wondering, is it the same story in a different setting or are they developping different...subthemes... if that's even possible

Thanks :D have a nice time over there

yesss i have heard the same about mr. emet selch. ffxiv is on my list!

as for cyberpunk its basically exactly what veilguard tried to be but far better executed. its actually nearly the exact same premise and i am absolutely positive that they took heavy inspiration from it considering the timeline of cyberpunk's release matches up with when veilguard was beginning its development (~2020)

basically, your character (V) gets this guy (johnny silverhand)'s consciousness stuck in their head when a mission goes wrong via the sci-fi version of fade-jail blood magic (a computer chip in ur head). johnny also happens to have blown up a building 50ish years ago with a nuke and killed like 15,000 people in pursuit of vengeance for the death of someone he loved, and is remembered as a terrorist. you can't take him out of your brain, or you will die. you have to get him out of your brain though, because you will also die if he stays. your entire quest is you trying to get him the fuck out of your head without dying. however he's not just someone you go pray to and chat with (4) times in an empty, disconnected realm. he is a near-constant presence as you go about the game. you see him visually in the world in front of you. he pops up constantly, he sees through your eyes, he feels everything you feel and he comments on all of it. he is heavily involved in main quests, often providing commentary and giving important exposition as you track down people he used to know when he was alive & embodied. but he also is regularly present in side quests, whether that is being a dick to you, ranting about the evils of capitalism, or lecturing you to have empathy for a guy who is grieving the loss of his pet tortoise. you also experience his memories visually. not as an outsider, but literally AS HIM, in person. these are entire gameplay sequences where you play AS HIM. including fucking his ex girlfriend who is voiced by alix wilton reagan. anyway. im sure i dont have to go into further detail on how mechanically this is everything that the solas/rook relationship needed to be to be compelling, to connect the new protagonist to the stakes of the blight and the evanuris, and to flesh out solas's ending with the narrative weight it deserved by letting him actually EXIST WITHIN THE WORLD... anyway. its fine.

i am actually only like 24 hours in, so i actually have no clue how the game ends or how any of this wraps up, so i cannot say if it is the perfect blueprint for his story. but on a gameplay level of how solas should have been integrated into the game world? yeah. its insane that they had this right in front of them and just... decided to keep him in fade time-out for the entire game.

if you are interested in learning more i would refer you to meryl @elf-trash and @scaryanneee who are the foremost scholars on johnny silverhand studies and the reason i finally played the game after it sat in my steam library for a year. xoxo

[cupcakewebkinz]

how do you think version 2 of Vee would be like if they ended up making her? What would they add or change? Would she still have the same personality as the previous version? What would happen if both versions met? It's so interesting to think about this

Just a heads up, I went full on Caretaker Shanon au universe theorizing over here on this ask, hope that's okay with you. Because boy howdy have I been thinking about this in my universe terms and bitch (loving) do I have A SHIT TON TO SAY

Part 1: The Clone Issue

So as we all know, Vee doesn't like the clones, she resents them. She doesn't hate them for their personalities, well, lack of personalities, or just because they exist- she hates them because they are REPLACEMENTS of the other toons she once genuinely loved dearly. They're disgusting to her because they remind her of how easily replaceable SHE HERSELF IS and thinks it's horrible that the other toons have even the slightest possibility of understanding how agonizing and painful it is to know that you're easily replaceable. Just like she told Gi - "I never hated you specifically, I hated everything else going on" - she'd absolutely feel the same about a Version Two. She wouldn't hate the other for existing, she probably wouldn't even hate her at all, she'd just hate the fact that they all let her get replaced. She'd hate the world for letting it happen, she'd hate Delilah and Arthur even more for making this decision. Worst of all though - she'd be mourning. Not only mourning her game show and reason to exist - but mourning the loss of her handlers relationship with her, her friendships, her relationship with Shelly her found family bonds- she'd be such an emotional mess if it happened ough poor baby

2: Changes

She definitely wouldn't change appearance wise, other than an antennae fix and probably a more proportional look to her, maybe a little shinier too. It's mostly her personality and database that changes- she'd be the perfect game show host Delilah wanted, no more curiosity about the world. No more glitches, twitches, accidentally too loud laughing moments or even that hidden charming personality Version One has. She'd purely be for showing off, always ready to have a game show or a meet and greet, but wouldn't stop even after the show's over. Version One has weird days, Delilah hated it, so Version Two just wouldn't have those problems. Sure it makes catching glitches before they become a problem much harder and the toons desperately miss the quirks Version One has that makes her so lovable and genuine, but who gives a shit about that when you make a ton of money?

3: Meeting

I genuinely don't see it going well at first, just like Version One hated Gi at first - she'd hate V2 with her entire being just because of the grudges she unwillingly holds. V1 has anger issues, very well maintained anger issues- but anger issues regardless. She's loud, she's snappy, she's a bitch when she wants to be. V2 is the opposite- a calm, collected host that just loves showing off and quizzing others and hosting her shows. She's outgoing but not loud, excitable but never curious. Version 1 would see this and be confused, but I see them coming to understand each other eventually and being friends actually. V1 doesn't want anyone to be her enemy, she just wants a safe space to thrive, and once she deems V2 safe enough she'd introduce her to her world. V2 probably would break out of the gameshow personality because of V1 and develop her own personality over time, and V1 would cheer her on overly loudly the entire time. They'd end up being completely different, but eventually loving each other for their differences, like identical twins. V1 genuinely just wants everyone to be the best versions of themselves- and that absolutely would include V2 in time.

Funny thought moment- V2 going by Vivi, so it's Vee and Vivi (Vee-Vee out loud) because Vee is the first and Vivi is the second. Hahaha I'm so smart!

4: VERONICA + SHELLY? WHAT??

Surprise motherfuckers Kai also thought about her handler and girlfriend les go- I'm also calling V1 Vee and V2 Vivi now. Sorry.

Veronica would be deep in mourning for Vee, like, girl just lost her fucking daughter- I don't think she'd be okay for a long time. Yeah she'd treat Vivi the same way as she treated Vee, but she'd absolutely be a wreck doing so, unable to look at Vee's things without breaking down sobbing. She'd be holding Vee's stegosaurus plush everywhere, carrying it like it was a bomb that would explode if she didn't hold it, hide Vee's things in boxes and refuse to look at any Vee merch with V1s design on it. Vivi wouldn't help much, knowing that she's only programmed to be the perfect gameshow host, and Veronica would resent her for it unwillingly. I see Veronica being more shut in than she was already- not even speaking to Vivi and just silently doing work, silently looking for her true Vee in the process.

Shelly probably would be in an incredibly similar situation, just... Showing it a lot more. Skinny from refusing to eat, constantly lethargic, eyes always red from crying constantly - barely moving out of her museum and sobbing like a massive baby at the mere mention of anything Vee used to do. Every single thing she could claim of Vee's is now hers, and if you touch it she will shred your arm until you stop. She's a shell (heh) of her former self, she's truly forgotten now, not even Shanon could fix that girl if the main toon that cared about her was swapped out for one that goes along with the "who the hell is Shelly?" act. She probably wouldn't even show much interest in dinosaurs anymore, just cleaning the fossils every day because that's what Vee used to do and she wants to keep her memory alive somehow. Sprout absolutely goes in there and force feeds her, ain't no toon starving on his watch, even if he fully understands why she's so depressed and doesn't want to take care of herself. Big brother Sprout isn't going to let anyone suffer though, he makes sure she's as well as he probably can- him and Shelly would become really close in this scenario honestly, he'd care for her and help her get back on her feet, just like Vee would've wanted for her.

I feel like the mains who knew Vee would all have struggles getting along with Vivi, especially at Gardenview, but they'll eventually accept her. Eventually.

And then Vivi meets Gi and they kiss! Lesbians! (THIS IS A JOKE- unless...)

You're so right Anon this is so fun to think about, especially if I bring up the scenario of "what if Version 2 exists but is shut off in storage until someone finds her and turns her on?"

Would you guys like that? I lowkey wanna write about it-

[rosorbus]

my thoughts on evangelion 3.0+1.0

(as someone who only recently finished it)

as much as i loved shin eva, something about it didn't sit right with me. i've been doing a lot of reflection lately, and i think i've sort of unpacked it?

theres a lot of incoherent rambling here i think but i don't care, i'm not editing shit

spoilers for the rebuilds, don't read if you haven't seen them.

to start, i think it was a- no, not excellent, uh ... it was a satisfactory conclusion to most? i liked it, cried my eyes out obviously.

shinji's character got a great conclusion. i don't think that's a hot take by any means. seeing him actually talking to his father, having a real conversation with gendou, and in turn making that character, who'd probably felt like a walking plot device beforehand, human? that's powerful shit.

↓ please excuse my pathetic whining below

but... oh, mari. she was definitely a fun character, if not a little shallow and fanservicey. her presence never really bothered me though, not until shinji ended up with ...her??

that final scene genuinely shocked me. i guess i sort of get the idea?? like, his only other romantic options were the following:

A: Rei Ayanami

a clone of his dead mother that barely understands the concept of being human, and whose care for him clearly, at least to me, stems from her practically being his family.

B: Asuka Langley Shikinami

an angry redheaded girl who, unlike her version in the original series, is also a clone. this one's backstory is much more shrouded in mystery, but regardless, she's violent asf with shinji, tried to force feed him, etc. as far as we know, she no longer has feelings for him after the 14-year timeskip and is implied to be in a relationship with kensuke.

C: Kaworu Nagisa

(we'll get to him in a minute)

A and B... not great options. A is a weird dynamic, and they give off a sibling vibe to me anyway. B is jusy plain fucked. i've never thought asuka and shinji's relationship was remotely healthy, not with soryuu OR shikinami.

but did the writing team just forget about C? i understand it was established towards the end that kaworu didn't truly understand shinji's happiness, but ...that doesn't fit with the relationship i saw, at least.

to me, yeah, he fucked up a couple times. his existence ended up causing more pain to shinji but this was through no fault of his own.

"all he wanted was for shinji to live and be happy."

kaworu realizing that maybe it was not just a selfless act, that maybe it was also for himself, and acknowledging that, is absolutely character development. in exchange for becoming human, he acknowledged his own flaws.

and that is beautiful to me.

so why am i weirded out by shinji ending up with mari, you ask?

it's because she does not have depth as a character.

she feels so utterly flat to me, and that is not a dig at her, i'm not a mari hater by any means, but OH MY GOD. how do you just end like that? with this one person who doesn't feel like a real person?

and it's not like i'm mad about it because she's new, hell no. it's because she has no flaws. she feels like this perfect shell of a character to me. and maybe that's the point? i have no idea. i have no idea what was going through anno's head when he was cooking up this film.

again, to clarify, i still LOVED the movie. but mari becoming important is weird. kaworu was right there and they just kinda ??? tossed him aside ???

to me at least, it should've been him, or shinji's love life should've been left up to interpretation. mari didn't earn that ending.

(this is the only real criticism i have about the movie btw it was fine)

[fligniuz]

Fligs babes, I was thinking about stan culture, specifically the one around Luigi.

Now, I have been part of stan twt for years now, so I can clock stan behavior. It’s interesting to see how much they want to distance themselves from the fan title, like they will rant about how unfair it is to be called that but a lot of their behavior it’s very fandom like.

Today was the perfect example of that behavior, they won’t outright say it but you can see their anger comes from him replying to her. They don’t like her because she, so far, has gotten multiple letters into the catalog and two replies from him. Are her tattoos a bit odd? sure but honestly going through her page, I don’t think she’s that dangerous, I think she’s lonely and supporting Luigi gave her some sort of community.

They won’t admit it but I can feel it in my bones they are going to crash if he gets a girlfriend or if we get a girlfriend (that’s has existed all along) reveal.

Their behavior it’s very “I’m not like the other girls” and just like that one anon mentioned, it also reads as negging.

btw first of all love your username secondly i agree with all of this!! especially that part about it coming down to jealousy. i genuinely think so many of these people are just upset that they aren’t the ones who get to post about a new response from luigi, and honestly it’s kinda fucked up but i think some of them feel entitled to a certain version of him that they’ve created in their head just because they’ve donated to his fund or expressed support for him before :/

i’ve also been in these kinds of stan environments for most of my time online and i’ve definitely noticed a pattern with how these people react to women interacting with the object of their affection. certain actors i’ve liked who have gfs or wives have not just had their partners harassed and endlessly bullied both online and in person simply because of their relationship, but they themselves have been subject to the very same abuse that these “fans” levy against their loved ones. even though luigi himself doesn’t have a partner (that we know of anyway), i have absolutely seen this same behavior among this particular sector of supporters be directed toward people who have gotten letters from luigi (or even claimed to!). first it was holly (with the “heinous crime of ordering a hashbrown” letter) and then it became jules, and now it’s just becoming luigi, because they’ve gotten too bored with putting down other women whom they envy

that tattoo thing was weird but ultimately i agree that jules is harmless, and luigi is clearly glad to have someone to share his writing with! these people on twt being bitchy and downright callous about both her and luigi seem to have their own issues that they need to work out and i honestly wish them the best. this pattern of severe backlash towards girls who have been in correspondence with luigi is concerning but unfortunately it’s nothing new for these kinds of spaces focused on a male subject :-(

[bannock-freak]

im rolling around and trying to decide how much i care about characters being in character, given my stance on death of the author. on one hand of course i love these characters very much and want to try to stay true to them. when they're horribly misconstrued it genuinely irritates me, and i dislike to think i might be doing that myself. ofc this characterization exists largely in my head, i'm not the original author, though i hope that the ideas are well-informed and supported by canon...

but on the other hand going through the number of times ive tagged saiki as ooc and have had a goddamn good time bending and twisting that little pink guy... he is not canonically a yandere. not even a little bit, though his habitual stalking and obsessive tendencies and

could potentially inform such a nature. canonically he works himself into the ground trying to AVOID hurting people. even the thugs he assaults aren't physically traumatized, only terrified enough that they're put off capturing both him and the meras. you could legitimately make a case for self-harm given how terribly he isolates himself because he considers his very presence around 'normal' people dangerous. to himself, yes, but largely to THEM. saiki looks at his crush, looks at the effect his presence has on his crush (or rather the cliches around said guy), and promptly nopes tf out and never approaches ever again, even working to set satou up with suzumiya.

and yet yandere!saiki, my favourite lil guy :( rip tear and kill my dude

essentially i have two very characterizations going on for Mr. Nikiforov. Viktor 'Doesn't wanna hurt anyone but has severe foot in mouth disease' and Victor 'I will ruin your whole life just give me a reason'. It could be fun reconciling the one into the other. There could be a case of denial going on. you'd expect either version would sooner swandive out a window and run away before trying to deliberately hurt yuuri. and yet.

Mr. I came here to seduce you but I will literally leave if you don't lose weight. Mr. I won't kiss anything but a gold medal. Mr. We're not getting married for silver. Mr. "Oops, watch the nose blood!" and then Yuuri crashes face first into the floor. Mr. I'm trying to motivate you and choosing the meanest way to do it every single time for the lols OOPS IT SHATTERED

Mr. I'm clearly still attracted to you even though I just made it apparent your waistline is a deal-breaker for me, so your weight actually isn't a deterrent even a lil, I still think you're super sexy let's fuck right here right now. You're single, right? Look at my tits.

Mr. Mixed Messages!

Mostly, people like to think of themselves as 'good'. Where do you fall on that scale, Mr. Nikiforov?

I'm writing the break up fic largely because I've read other ones where I was pretty dissatisfied with the characterization therein. The goal is, absolutely, ultimately, the ego death of both parties. There's going to be some pretty extreme circumstances leading into that.

But, kicking over the body and examining it, how to make it believable enough it doesnt stretch my own sense of disbelief...

it could be a matter of just needing to write more to see where it goes. it all makes grand sense in my head! but translating that into a document has proven a bit challenging.

im looking at teruhashi and understanding how she couldve possibly thought she had a crush on saiki when she clearly didnt care for him at the start. i'm thinking about victor so much and he's literally not even my favourite guy, but maybe it turns out he is lmao

come to me, wonderful fanfic where yuuri does nothing wrong and is a perfect angel and takes everything from chris to makka in the divorce because victor fucked up so badly and It's Still Believable, COME TO ME

[welcome-to-roomba-fazbender]

HAPPY 5TH ANNIVERSERY TO

CHARLIE THE CURSED PHONE GUY

MAY HE STAY WITH US FOR ANOTHER FIVE AND BEYOND!

and now a special message from the man himself.

"Well, Well, Well... look how far we've come huh? Genuinely, honest... And Truly."

"Five years ago I was made and cursed the world of tumblr with my presence, time sure does fly! I've lost a few friends, but gained plenty more in return!"

"I wouldn't even be here today without them, now granted I'm not gonna name EVERYONE! But I am gonna name a select few and tell you how they've impacted me... AHEM..."

"First and foremost the man the myth and the legend the one who is the reason behind everything, the man where if he didn't exist I wouldn't exist!"

"Henr- ... we all know I don't mean him we're talking about real people."

"If your name isn't listed, it isn't because the mod dosen't care but it's because he's a dumbass and these are the ones that came up at the top of his head when writing this post, totally not a forth wall break."

@directdogman

"The Creator of the DSAF/Dayshift At Freddy's Series Direct Doggo himself, sure okay I was a late edition to the fandom.

but it is fully thanks to DSAF 3 and him that I even exist, what can I say about doggo other then what has been said before one thousand times? He is a man of many skills and many talents."

"He is creative, smart and genuinely an inspiration to everyone in the community of both DSAF and Dialtown... no matter how much time has passed, I will personally continue to respect the man I owe everything to him. So thank you doggo genuinely for your support and your amazing games."

@cook-ie-chip

"One of my oldest friends in the community, I've known you since almost the start! we have alot of memories together, some laughs, some cries! you also created my blue prints

(though in lore they were written by henry and will) let's look past that! You remind me of how things used to be a long time ago, and I'm glad to still know you even now."

"and with any hope I'll curse you for many years more."

@lazy-charlie / @chuck-the-fanboy

"I remember how we met, you found me and we both realized we had the same name, and so I decided to charge you extra for like a pizza party lmao."

"But ever since that day we have only grown closer and closer... to the point your apart of the roomba fazbender family [no you will get no discounts] ..."

"You've done so much for me over the years though, you helped create the Roomba's we have here today, you drew some of our lovely walrus friends!"

"AND ... ough... Okay Okay I'll be honest you made Chuck The Fanboy originally a joke just to tease me with, but over the years he's grown on me... DO NOT LET HIM HEAR ME SAY THIS, but he's like a lil bro... and if anything happened to him I'd be devastated."

@clownsuu / @not-robert

"... well well well if it isn't the shadow in black and the big buff zombie, what can I say about both of you?"

"Hmm... Clownsuu here teases me, has DRAWN ME MPREG, HAS DRAWN ME EMO, IS THE REASON WHY THE EVIL VERSION OF ME EXISTS!..."

"and yet life wouldn't be the same with out him, jack is... an anomaly someone I met because someone thought he was stealing me! HA no one can steal this perfect face~"

"Gotta say though, all jokes aside... life just wouldn't be the same without him, alot more boring you know? I must admit he is someone I will never forget, you've also drawn photos of a few of my walrus I still have hung up in my office, I appreciate you for absolutely everything you've done."

"And don't get me started on Robert that big buff baby, I've put him in just about every costume under the sun, and yet he still puts up with me and stays still no idea why. But it's because of him my restaurant has expanded so much, from a bowling alley, a karaoke bar and dumpsters full of meat."

"Don't tell Robert this he'd likely call me an idiot, but guy's one of my best friends genuinely thankfully he's immortal so I'll never worry about losing him but ... the thought still scares me."

"Never change Robert."

@weirdozjunkary

"You turned me into a furry... I got nothin else to say I just had to point that out."

"..."

"..."

"Okay, fine you did alot more then that, you introduced me to bedlam someone who can FINALLY truly be a sponge to my cursed and chaotic behavior, honestly I'd hope so considering he's the god of chaos."

"I only met him recently but I'd fuken fight his version of god for him ... seriously don't tempt me I will kick that old man's ass."

"I'm glad to have bedlam in my life and hope I know him for many years more."

@an-artist-place-for-extra-art

"you simp for the evil version of me I..."

"I have no words for you..."

"I just question... why?"

"though honestly? never change, I care for you just the way you are, your amazing."

"Alright, Alright enough of the mushy stuff and forth wall breaks it's messing with my circuits and servo's ahem..."

"The most important thing about this day is one..."

"I'm so fucking cool"

"two"

"I AM NEVER GOING ANYWHERE HATERS, FIVE MORE YEARS AND BEYOND OF ME!!!"

"and three... and most important lore wise"

"HAPPY 50TH ANNIVERSERY TO ROOMBA FUCKING FAZBENDERS!"

"50 YEARS THIS PLACE HAS BEEN OPEN WITHOUT ANY DEATHS JUST A FEW INJURIES AND I'LL TAKE THAT WITH STRIDE!"

"AS THE ULTIMATE FUCK YOU TO FREDBEAR'S AND FAZBENDER ENTERTAINMENT!"

"THE GUY WHO IS A LITERAL ELDRITCH HORROR AND EATS SHOES WITH HIS BOOTLEG RESTURANT LASTED LONGER THEN ALL OF YOU SUCK IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

"... thank you... genuinely out of pocket with full seriousness..."

"thank you everyone for sticking around none of this would be possible without you, and I HONEST AND TRUELY can't wait for another five amazing years."

Moderator Monnie: And happy anniversary to everyone from me to all of you!

Have a fantastic day! and thank ya'll for reading!