#He looks like Evil and Rage Incarnate

[doomfox]

David Kessler remaining conscious, aware, and non-violent in his werewolf state is just so fun to me because he literally looks like this:

AKA The Most Terrifying Thing Ever but he’s some dumbass college student from New York he’s not gonna eat you he’s just filled with anxiety he’s cramming for his finals and he just got stressed okay leave him alone

[looseratinthegarage]

Yautja x human reader

Reader is really good with the pups (Yautja babies/ children) of Yautja prim, there soft but still hold there own. It’s not uncommon for at least 2 older ones ( to a human a 6 yer old) and a baby or 2 that you carry or they hold onto you. So when a rouge Xenomorphs comes onto the planet your s/o and the other yautja see what happens when someone messes with your little buddy’s.

An example how Linda from mitchell vs the machines when she sees them take her son, so instead of “I am Linda Mitchell, mother of 2, LOOK UPON ME WITH FEAR!!! I was thinking of it being

“ i am little blade, protector of children LOOK UPON ME WITH FEAR!!!

And after the mothers are even more willing to let the pups be around them. And when alone a vary existed s/o

Y/n pupsitter kicks xeno ass

*wheezes* I’ve done it!! Hahahaha!!!! This was super fun to write!! thank you for the request 😊

The transition to Yautja living was not an easy one. You had lost many day to day common conveniences humans take for granted. The supermarket for instance, fast food, video games, Spotify, etc. Since you were too weak to hunt or traverse yautja prime by yourself, they stick you with babysitting duty.

The mothers of the village were busy working hard along with the males. Children often run amuck due to ill supervision, bothering the adults as they kept the clan going. So why not stick the pathetic ooman with the rambunctious pups? At the very least it would be entertaining.

To say they had no faith in you was an understatement. Some didn’t want their pups near you, so you had a modest five pups to take care of. Two were children, the other two were toddlers, and the youngest was a baby. The toddlers and baby didn’t have a problem with you, they stuck to you like glue. They loved you and would hang onto you like little monkeys. The children however disliked you, parent-taught racism had already polluted their minds. It was difficult to watch them, but you managed.

You now walk through the woods next to the village. The pups were rather rowdy today and kept antagonizing the newly blooded. Teens and younglings don’t mix. You cradled the baby in one arm and held a toddler on your hip. A little clawed hand held onto your pant leg as you walked. The two kids ran up ahead. One of them picked up a stick and hit his brother in the face. In retaliation, his twin ripped a rather large branch off of the closest tree. He swung for his siblings legs, effectively putting him on his back.

“bpi-de h'ka-se!” You shouted.

They began laughing and ignored your warning. The bigger twin tackles his brother into the bushes. You shake your head and sigh. You hear them roaring and playing with each other, then the sound of them screaming raises your head in a flash. They stumbled out of the foliage.

“kiande amedha! kiande amedha!!” They screamed frantically.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. They had to be joking, it was a prank, a very bad prank. But to your dismay it was no prank. A xenomorph crawled out of the shadows and snarled. The toddlers started crying, it’s attention shifting to you. The twins ran into your legs and grabbed onto you desperately. The xeno began stalking towards you.

“Fuck!!” You yell and pick up the pups.

Now holding five heavy pups, you begin to run in the direction of camp.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” You frantically chant trying to calm the crying children.

Then something hard and cold wraps around your legs. You land on your back to break the pups' fall. Looking down you see the xenos tail holding you tight. It picks you up, the children falling out of your arms, and throws you aside. Your back hits into a tree and you scream out in pain.

You shakily look up and see the beast approaching the crying children. Then something in you snapped. You were filled with one thing, pure rage. You stand to your feet with a groan, the xeno looking in your direction. You grab the nearest branch and charge at the evil incarnate. It rushes towards you and opens its mouth.

You use the stick to stop it from clamping down its jaw and reach into its mouth. With the help of your adrenaline boosted strength rip out its tiny mouth. It makes a shrill cry but before it had the chance to attack back, you shoved the stick down its throat. It gargled on its blood for a moment then fell over dead.

You look at the children but don’t only see them. Instead you see almost the entire village watching with wide eyes of disbelief. The scrawny twin held the baby and the toddlers by the bigger twin, they set the kids down and uncharacteristically run towards you.

“Ooman nan'ku!!” They yelled in unison and hugged your leg.

You shakily kneel down and go to pat their heads reassuringly but stop yourself. You look at your hand, it’s burned. Your adrenaline subsided and the pain hit you hard. You started to feel light headed and before you could process it you were falling over. Your mate rushes forward and catches you.

“My little sain’ja..” He proudly cooed to you and carried you bridal style.

The clan made way for you as your mate carried you back to the camp.

After a month of recovery you returned to the pups. Now, many more in your care. It seems you’ve impressed the mothers that didn’t trust you before. And the ones who did, trusted you even more with their younglings. The clan treated you with a new respect, even the elites and elders.

Word key:

bpi-de h'ka-se = end now

kiande amedha = hard meat/xenomorph

Ooman nan'ku = human alive

[scoobydoodean]

I'm making a big compilation set and it's extremely frustrating how many times Sam accuses Dean of thought crimes related to his psychic abilities.

First it's demanding Dean "admit" that Sam's premonitions freak Dean out in 1.14, because Sam himself is freaked out. Dean repeatedly treats Sam's visions like they aren't a big deal—and yeah—maybe deep down Dean IS scared, but he knows Sam needs support and he needs someone to tell him it's going to be okay.

Sam is freaked out, but when Mr. "Aren't you afraid I'm going to become a killer?? Admit you're scared!" Is confronted in 2.10 with Dean asking if they can just lay low for a while he absolutely flips his shit at Dean for DARING to possibly indicate that maybe he thinks Sam might hurt someone some day... something Sam himself repeatedly acted like Dean was crazy for NOT saying JUST ONE SEASON AGO.

In 2.10 now all of the sudden Dean's feelings are not only being assumed yet again, but now the idea that Sam could ever hurt someone is suddenly the totally irrational unthinkable option and the fact that Dean would DARE possibly think that is horrible irrational evil and would make him so utterly cruel that Sam implies maybe DEAN might be the person Sam will kill for daring to think it...

...And Sam does, in a moment of pure rage in 4.21, end up nearly strangling Dean to death for pretty much this exact thought crime, actually.

What makes it even more infuriating is that if you actually go back to the beginning of THE PREVIOUS GODDAMN EPISODE, you will find a complete reversal where Sam starts off the episode THINKING DEAN IS GOING TO FUCKING MURDER SOMEONE.

So yeah! It's totally fucking cool if Sam believes Dean's going to murder someone in cold blood randomly, but if Dean DARES even LOOK like he thinks maybe Sam could be coerced into hurting someone, he's the goddamn devil incarnate And look—I have written about this more compassionately before, but good GOD Sam sometimes I wanna fucking throttle you. Need to do another "These are your issues, quit dumping them on me" set I guess. 🙈

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Two.

Well, here we go with the next instalment, guys. I won't lie, I'm a bit disheartened that chapter one did not do as well as the prologue. I just hope that's because people are busy and haven't gotten around to it yet, rather than 'oh, this sucks, not reading it any longer.' Sadly because of events not too long ago, that's exactly where my worried little mind always goes :( Huge thanks to all of you who have interacted, though. Maybe I can encourage some of you who don't already to leave a comment, or reblog it? It would mean the world to your hardworking author.

Previous chapters - Prologue One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,700

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Holy shit.” Patting his pocket quickly, he was mildly dismayed to find himself without the silver letter opener he had stashed in there, the only thing made of the metal he could find that would work as a weapon against the shadow walker stood before him.  

“Do you search for this?” There within her handkerchief covered grasp was the very tool he’d been told to arm himself with, the vampire tilting her head back. “You know what I am now, for you to be carrying the very item that could destroy me within your pockets.”  

Looking at her unflinchingly, the blue of his eyes burned cold through the amber of his eyelashes, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I do.”  

Puzzlement tugged at her grin. “But why? I pose no threat to you, John. I told you this.”  

The caution in him continued to amp, but swirling around it came a feeling of great juxtapose. His first encounter with her had been truly terrifying, appearing before him more beast than woman. As she stood mere inches from him now, there was a gentleness to her quite palpable, the feeling of a storm stilled, the raging rain and howling winds broken by glittering beams of sunshine. He kept the words of Polly and Tommy firmly in mind, though. 

“How’d you know my name?” 

“Your walls are thin, and vampire hearing is quite the thing.” Smiling, she watched as he mirrored it for a flicker of a second, his face swiftly altering, blankness stilling his features. She read him like a book, though. “Your aunt, she is incorrect.”  

“Yeah? What about?”  

“When she spoke of us being evil incarnate. I for one am not.”  

His soft snort was muffled by the blast furnace once again roaring, but she still heard it. He could have snorted in disbelief three streets away from her and the sound would still reach her ancient ears. “You tore four men to pieces last night. That counts as evil in my book.” 

“Then you are evil too, John Shelby. For the weapons you wield, the intent behind the bullets you direct at your enemies, or the razorblades within your cap intended to blind and maim. I could say we are the same.” She had him there, he had to concede. “I saved your life, there was a purpose to my slaying of the Rasmussen men. That, and I happened to be quite famished.”  

He sighed, flicking his cigarette away, returning the toothpick to his mouth. “Look, love. What the fuck do you want, eh?”  

She cocked her head, smiling, reaching for his cheek. “For you to be calm, John. All this coolness towards me is unneeded, I swear to you. I would also like for you to be a gentleman, escort me down to the public house and buy me a glass of wine. I am partial to a nice, dry red.” She held the letter opener forth, gesturing to it with a nod. “A show of faith. Take it. I trust you; I would like for you to trust me as well.” 

They shared a weighted silence, pulled in by one another’s gaze, the vampire speaking once again as her eyes toured him. “Gods, you are so strikingly handsome.” 

She watched as the confidence he carried himself within seemed to slip a little, his cheeks colouring a tad as he looked away for a moment, a tiny slither of shy disbelief fluttering through him.  

He looked back at her with a sniff, his shoulders bobbing lightly. “I ain’t bad.” There within the sharply dressed gangster, the man with the feared surname that preceded him, was the tiniest smidgen of boyish bashfulness. Oh, how she adored it.  

“So,” she began, eyes glittering at him through the gloom of the evening, “that drink?” 

The stroke of her fingernails against his cheek soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain, feeling himself pulled into the glacial vortex that was her eyes as he returned the letter opener to his pocket. “Alright.” He suddenly remembered Arthur’s reaction, coupled with the warnings of Tommy and Polly. “We can’t go in The Garrison, though.” 

“This is of little matter to me,” the vampire began, adjusting the black fur of her collar. “I much prefer The Brasshouse.” 

“You mean the place on Broad Street? Bit far, ain’t it?” 

She smiled, taking his arm. “Not too far at all. Now, hang on tight. We shall arrive in a jiffy.” Suddenly, he felt as if he’d been shot out of a canon, the air whirling past him at great acceleration, his feet finding the floor below after a few seconds. Looking up, he saw the doors of The Brasshouse to his left.  

“How... the fuck did you do that?”  

Her smile flashed a set of pearly white teeth. “You bared witness to the stealth that I move with. The Bentley Motor Company has nothing on me.” She took his arm again, his warmth delicious against her perpetually cool body. “Let us head inside, and perhaps I shall tell you more about myself. I sense you have many questions.” 

She absolutely wasn’t wrong.  

As he entered the cosy surroundings of the pub, with its long, polished oak bar, bare brick walls and tiled floor, he wondered whether he’d completely taken leave of his senses. There he was, escorting a vampire towards the bar, intent on purchasing her the dry red she had made it known she was partial to, against the grave warnings of his family. He was nothing if not a risk taker, though, a man who lived life in the moment, caution thrown to the wind.  

Imagine the stories he could tell his grandchildren; about the time he’d courted a vampire.  

Was it even courting, though? Perhaps such a notion was getting ahead of himself, John realising that for all the thrill seeking within his nature, he should still perhaps not throw his caution to the aforementioned wind entirely. After all, he still had no idea over her intentions towards him. 

“Large whiskey, Irish, and a dry red for the lady.” John instructed the barman, who nodded before bustling away to prepare their drinks.  

All around him, the eyes of the patrons were drawn to his companion, how much she stood out compared to the other female persons there present. Short hair styled in finger waves was all the rage, but the vampire couldn’t have been further from that, with her dark curls tumbling almost to her waist. The stares did not abate once they’d taken their seat in a booth, John noticing one man at the bar practically salivating over her. 

“Oi, mush. This ain’t a museum and she's not on display,” he barked, his frown deepening. “Put your fucking eyes back in your head.” 

The man scoffed, leaning back against the bar in a casual, unbothered manner. “And who are you to tell me what to do, eh lad?” 

“John Shelby.” 

At the mere mention of his famed surname, the man’s face dropped, picking up his drink and moving with his cohorts across the pub, John muttering beneath his breath. 

“That was very gallant of you, but I do not mind being stared at so much. I know that I am somewhat of a curious sight to behold,” she began, running her fingernail around the rim of her glass. “I do not look like other women.” 

His eyes roamed over her, pupils inking into the blue. “No, you don’t.”  

“And you enjoy that,” she asserted, her pretty lips curling, looking at him through the flirtatious flutter of her long eyelashes as she sipped her wine.  

On impulse, he reached forward, wiping the drip of Cabernet from her lip, bringing his thumb to his own mouth and sucking it momentarily. It made her shiver within. “I do,” he finally confirmed, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Oh, how she loved a man who had the confidence to stare so unblinkingly at her. “Do I get to know your name?”  

“Brynhild.” 

He was taken aback a little. “That’s a strange name,” he began, eyes still fixed firmly on hers, so much so that she shuffled slightly in her seat. He was much too handsome for his own good. “No surname?”  

“It is a very old name. As for surname, I do, but it is not like a surname that is known today. My people used patronymics, and what that means is to combine the father’s name as the prefix, and then either son or dottir as the suffix. I am the daughter of Leif, so therefore my name is Brynhild Leifsdottir.” 

He was fascinated, if not a little confused, closing the gap between them as he leaned across the table. “I think I’m just going to call you Bryn.” 

Her laugh at his dryly delivered assertion tinkled through the air. “That is fine with me. I like that. Nobody has ever shortened it before.” 

“Who were your people? You sound foreign but I can’t place your accent. I’m a fucking clod with nationalities, geography an’ all that.”  

“No, no,” she assured, her hand pressing to his forearm for a moment. “You are correct, for even though my accent has softened, I am not English. I am Norse, or Norwegian. My people were Vikings.”  

His eyes all but fell out of his head. “What, as in the fellas who came over and terrorised a load of monks up north all them years ago?” 

“You say that you are, to use your term, a fucking clod with nationalities and geography, yet you know this correctly, John. Not as much of a clod as you think, hmm? You know your history, also.” 

He shrugged. “Me sister is a right bookworm, she rattled something off about it once and I remembered.” He paused, momentarily wetting his lips with a flick of his tongue. Again, she shivered internally. “I know it’s bloody rude, to ask a lady her age, but...” 

“One thousand and seventy-two. If I am to count my human years, then I am one thousand, one hundred and two years old.” She reached for his mouth, placing two fingers beneath his chin to close it after it had dropped open.  

“Fucking... hell.”  

“And you are?” 

He suddenly felt a little inferior to his companion, that tiny little show of bashfulness making an appearance once more. “Um, twenty-eight.”  

“Ahh, then if you are to discount my vampire years, we would not be so different. I had just turned thirty years of age when I was made what I now am.” His face remained a picture of wide-eyed incredulity. “Does my ancientness bother you?” 

“No, not at all. I’m just... bloody hell. The things you must have seen and learned in your time. Fuck.” He laughed softly, shaking his head in wonder. “You're fascinating, Bryn.” Their chemistry already mingled in the air like magical alchemy. 

She beamed, and he felt his pulse quicken. “You are very complimentary. What else do you wish to learn about me?” 

He sipped his whiskey, returning the tumbler to the table with a soft clunk. “Whatever you want to tell me, love.” He winked, taking her hand and laying a soft kiss to her cool fingers. It took all she had not to reach across the small space and plant her lips to his.  

Everything. She wanted to tell him everything as the blue of his eyes pulled her further to him, her usual aloofness banished to a place she could not reach to pull it back. Not that she wanted to. Bryn scarcely encountered humans who were quite a confident in themselves as John, especially in the face of all that she was. She knew he’d been afraid of her the night before, but that no longer seemed to linger within the body of the well-groomed, handsome young man. 

He was unfazed, he did not cower to her. She was the most powerful apex predator on earth, yet he treated her like a lady. It had been many years since she had experienced that. He’d watched her decapitate a man with her bare hands, he knew of her savagery, yet it dented neither his chivalry nor his flirtation as they fell into long conversation together.  

“To answer your question, yes, I can eat and drink, but they have no nourishing effect upon me. I could drink every last drop of alcohol within this public house also, and it would not affect my equilibrium. I do so merely for the pleasure when it takes me, and to blend in. A woman at a dinner party pushing her meal around with a glass that never empties draws attention, the type I do not always wish to receive. All the food in the world could vanish and I would not be concerned, for truly I only need the blood of humans to survive. Animal blood works too, but not as well. We weaken without our life’s source.”  

John listened keenly as she talked, remaining mostly silent as the evening passed by, his eyes darting to the large clock in the corner every so often, willing it to tick backwards. He’d been there with her for four hours, and he wished for nothing more than another four to follow. “What else about being a vampire make you different from humans?” 

She was only too happy to share that, but there were some secrets she would keep back. Even when in the company of a man who she viewed with as keen interest as she did John, she never gave everything up at once. “My speed, which you have witnessed. My strength is boundless, too. I could – and have – uproot a tree by pushing it, for example. I could also hold a car up one handed and throw a grown man across the room with a mere shove of my hand into his chest.”  

His eyes sparkled. “You’ve done that, ain’t ya?” 

Leaning close, she licked her top lip momentarily, her grin broadening. “Too many times to count.” She paused, cocking her head slightly. “You know exactly what I am and yet, you do not fear me.” 

His shrug was light, finishing his drink. “There’s no point. If you wanted me dead, I’d be gone within a blink, I suppose. It was like being scared when I went to France. If I thought about it too much, then I wouldn’t have been able to do what I was there for and defend me country.” His eyes seemed to dull a little, John clearing his throat before offering a candidness he seldom ever uttered. “It did scare me, though. If I let it.”  

The war hadn’t affected him quite like it had Tommy, John’s perpetual cheer and effervescence shining through the shadows left behind by the harrowing darkness of war. Only very, very occasionally did the Flanders blues bother him. 

She placed her hand atop his, John moving his thumb out from under hers, stroking the soft skin just below her first knuckle. “Anybody who claims not to have felt fear in battle is a liar. I remember it well, thought it was so very long ago.” 

“Some kind of vampire war?” he asked curiously, Bryn shaking her head. 

“No, John. When I was human. I was what is known as a shieldmaiden. I fought side by side upon the battlefield with my Viking brethren. I became extremely adept in burying my axe in the heads of many an Englishman.” 

He looked very impressed at that revelation. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve spent your entire existence basically being a fucking killing machine?” 

Her lips pinched as she tried not to find his words as entertaining as she did. Oh, he was such a lovable rouge. Not many would brush off that kind of information, let alone turn it into a joke. “I suppose I have, yes. I tend to be a little more sedate in my penchant for slaughter at my age, though. With age comes a gentleness not seen in younger of my kind. We ah, find a little of our humanity again, you could say.” He fixed her with a comic look of disbelief, raising his eyebrows aloft. “Except for last night, that is.” 

“Decapitation ain’t really sedate or gentle, love.” he hummed, laughing when she finally began to, dropping her gaze for a few moments, beginning to swirl a curl around her finger. “Got ya there, ain’t I?” 

This man, oh, this charming, playful man. He made her feel like a girl again, not an ancient creature of the night, not a barbaric shieldmaiden. Just Brynhild. Just Bryn. “Yes, John. Yes, you do.”  

On they continued to chatter, until last orders were called, John in no hurry to leave as he bought another round of drinks.  

“How much, gaffer, to keep this place open just for the lovely lady and I?”  

The landlord looked a little apprehensive, until he saw the size of the roll of banknotes produced, John beginning to peel them off. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, thumbing away a couple more.  

“That’ll be sufficient, sir. Got to keep it quiet, though, lights off. I’ll fetch some candles.” When it was just John, Bryn and the man who facilitated their elongated stay within the cosy surroundings of The Brasshouse, he finally broached the question that had been at the back of his mind the entire night. 

He kept his tones hushed, moving to her side so that they could share conversation that would not reach earshot of the landlord, sat at the other end of the pub next to the gramophone. “So, why did you do it, then? Take out the Rasmussen fellas, that is.” 

She nodded knowingly, lacing her fingers together before her. “I knew that you would bring the conversation back to that eventually. I suppose it is only fair that I reveal my intentions, especially after the lovely evening you have treated me to.” She was not short of a bob or two, but John had not allowed her to put her hand into her purse once.  

Drawing herself up a little, Bryn began. “I will start by revealing that I initially sought out your family for the purposes of alliance only, but then I witnessed you and felt my cunt do whatever the cunt version of a backflip is, so I will be completely honest there. I have interest in an alliance, and in addition to that, I now have interest in you.” She paused a moment while John’s mirth displayed itself in a long snort before he laughed hard. When women were unexpectedly crass, it never ceased to entertain him. 

“There is an old saying, John. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and gods, the Rasmussen’s are my enemies of the highest order. What they are, they are not merely a criminal enterprise. They are vampire hunters, their lineage spanning longer than mine. From one generation to the next, they have stalked me through the shadows for centuries, after what it is within me that fuels them. You must have noticed by now that they are much stronger than your average person, yes?” 

John nodded, allowing her to continue. “This is because they drink of our blood. In doing so, it will give a human some of the attributes of the vampire they have drank of. Sharper senses, speed, strength and stamina. You can imagine, can you not, the attributes they would gain if they managed to seize me. They would become unstoppable.” 

He looked thoughtful, absorbing her words. “S’cuse me if this sounds like I’m being a thick headed Brummie twat, but what advantage does an alliance with us give you? You’re ancient and powerful. We might be gangsters but still, we’re fucking feeble compared to you.”  

The admission of his lesser strength to her made something unpleasant prickle his insides, but John was no fool even in the face of such inner concession. He could not deny that while he himself sat very high upon the ladder of intimidation, Bryn was perched right upon the top rung. 

“Daylight, John. You have the daylight, whereas I do not. My home, all of my homes, in fact, have been well fortified against break in. This does not mean it cannot still happen, though.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, her fangs snapping out within her closed mouth as the pain danced in her memories. Making them recede, she continued.  

“When residing at my home in London, I am guarded during the daytime by men under the employment of one Alfie Solomons. I believe you are acquainted with him. I offer an exchange basis. I pay most handsomely for such services.”  

He still looked a tad confused. “I think I’m missing something here. Why can’t you just go kill ‘em all? Ain’t like you’re not strong enough to do that.”  

“It matters not how strong I am. The Rasmussen family is great in number, as I am sure you have deduced by now. Their dwellings are well fortified against vampire attack especially, for they know the marks they have had upon their heads by others of my kind. This has not changed throughout history. They have always bred plentifully to remain in good numbers and thus further their cause. I cannot risk happening again what their ancestors put me through.”  

He almost didn’t want to ask, watching the pain swirl in her eyes, the way her nose crinkled slightly, the tightness in her jaw. “What did they do to you, Bryn?” 

Reaching for her wine, she gulped the rest back, wishing alcohol still had a soothing effect on her. “Took me prisoner for over a hundred years.” 

John might not have known about vampires for a long period of time at all, but what he did, he knew that perhaps it stung her pride greater than he could ever imagine to confess such weakness. As he covered her hand with his, he knew on an instinctual level that this rare and radiant woman was one he wanted to pledge his protection to.  

Whether his family would agree was a different matter altogether. 

[runninriot]

Inspired by the prompt Love is the only thing we can take with us by @thefreakandthehair for @steddielovemonth day 24

Only Love

wc: 1646 | rated: E | cw: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking, talk about death, sexual intercourse with a monster | tags: Kas!Eddie Munson, Monsterlover!Steve Harrington, Sad Love Story, but it is still a love story

minors, this one isn't for you

If someone had told Eddie he would one day go into battle against interdimensional monsters, he’d have laughed and called them insane. Had the same person told him, he’d lose said battle against monstrous bats out of hell, he’d maybe have used the idea for one of his DnD campaigns or maybe wrote a song about it because it sounds kind of cool, pretty badass to think of a character having to fight eyeless, bat-winged creatures with vine-like tails to strangle you with and tiny, sharp teeth that can rip through skin and flesh like a knife through soft butter.

Doesn’t sound so great anymore once you know they’re real. Doesn’t sound very heroic either to tell the tale of almost getting eaten alive by a swarm of angry, flying monsters.

It’s a sad story, really, if you think about how young Eddie was and how little of his life he got to truly enjoy.

But it’s also kind of funny to think that fate chose someone as clumsy and cowardly as Eddie to become something better, something superior. A creature of the dark, a godlike creation forged in the Upside Down to bring horror and harm to a town that, to be honest, would’ve deserved his rage for all they’d done to him.

But lucky for the puny people living in Hawkins, there was one thing Vecna couldn’t take from him when he made him turn from human to monster. And while his heart might not be beating anymore, sitting stone cold in his chest now where it once was the source of life – one thing remained.

The thing that made the monster turn against his master in the midst of a raging war, spilling blood and guts, tearing apart every screeching thing that dared to come too close. One monster against an army of many until he came eye to eye with the One, the evil incarnate, and finished him once and for all to protect the people he loved.

Love was the one thing he took from life to death and beyond.

Love for a girl he couldn’t save but will remember for the rest of his days.

Love for a kid that has more courage in his left foot than Eddie ever had in his whole body.

Love for a group of nerds and losers that made him want to be a better person for them.

Love for him.

Eddie turns his gaze away from the full moon shining through a gap between the treetops when he hears the rustling of leaves in the distance. He doesn’t need to see Steve to know that it’s him, could scent him from miles away, but still he smiles when the other man finally steps out of the shadows and into the faintly lit space where Eddie has been waiting for him.

   “Hey baby.”

Steve takes the hand reached out to him, lets Eddie pull him close against his body.

   “Hey.” Steve looks up at him through hooded eyes, enthralled by the vision Eddie is.

Still so fascinated by Eddie, his transformed self, the demonic version of what he once was. Tall, much taller than before. With broad shoulders and strong arms. His whole body covered in thick, opal skin. He’s got sharp talons and even sharper fangs. Wings, black and leathery, reminiscent of the creatures that took his old life and gave him a new one.

Eddie leans down to plant a kiss on Steve’s waiting lips, just gentle – for now.

   “Missed you so much.” Steve sighs as he crawls deeper into the cradle of Eddie’s arms, would melt right into his skin if he could.

And God, how Eddie missed him too.

They never get enough time together, can never stay as long in each other’s presence as they both would like.

It comes with the curse of being the thing he is now but they both take it as it is because it’s better than not having each other at all.

Just one night every full moon is all they have. All Eddie allows himself to have. Because with Vecna defeated, he is the one now ruling the Upside Down, lonely like the Devil reigning hell, making sure the creatures of this other world stay trapped where they belong.

It’s a price he’s willing to pay to keep his loved ones safe.

To make sure the young man in his arms has the life he deserves – peaceful and quiet, not fighting wars that aren’t his to fight.

   “Missed you too, my love. Couldn’t wait to have you in my arms again.”

Eddie pulls him closer, feels his boyfriend’s heartbeat thrumming in his chest, healthy and strong. He can hear the rush of Steve’s blood running through his veins; it’s singing to him, soft and enticing like a siren’s song. He can smell the natural scent of Steve’s warm skin, mixed with the deep fragrance of the forest ground and brittle wood.

It’s intoxicating, mind numbing, addictive.

Steve pulls away, knows what Eddie wants, wants what Eddie needs.

   “Take it,” he says. Unafraid and always so ready to share what keeps him alive.

A rush of ecstasy takes hold of Eddie’s senses, makes it seem like the world around them shifts, turns reality into a dreamlike sequence. Moonlight falls on Steve, illuminating his angelic form with a silvery glow, makes him shine like Sirius in the night sky.

   “My pretty boy.”

Eddie’s voice is nothing but a growl, deep and dangerous, resonating in his own ears like the sound of a hungry beast.

Steve bares his throat, offers himself to the monster that takes hold of the few remaining pieces of humanity that Eddie has left in him.

Eddie opens his mouth with a hiss, makes way for his teeth to grow, ready to take what he’s being offered so freely. The pointy tips of his fangs pierce easily through Steve’s skin, breaking enough of the protective layer to let blood spill out. It’s like drinking pure light, tastes better than anything else. The world’s most expensive wine couldn’t compete with it, no fruit could be sweeter than Steve. Every drop is a burst of flavour on his tongue, slowly dripping down his esophagus in a warm and steady stream.

He’s greedy for it, sucking the precious liquid into his mouth with fervour until he feels Steve’s body go limp in his arms.

He pops off with a wet sound, licks over the wound to soothe the stinging pain.

   “Kiss me, please,” Steve begs, voice weak but demanding.

And Eddie does. Kisses him with blood stained lips, painting Steve’s mouth dark red with it – sharing what he took from him.

   “Love me,” Steve whispers into the kiss and Eddie tries hard not to ravish him instantly.

He lifts him up, strong arms wrapped protectively around Steve, and carries him to their favourite spot. Here, where the ground is overgrown with tick layers of moss and clover, he lays Steve down gently.

   “Love you so much.”

They fuck on the dewy forest floor, hidden away from the world, covered only by the night as their blanket. Steve is trembling, shaking uncontrollably as Eddie splits him in half, careful not to hurt him anymore than necessary. His new form isn’t made to easily glide into the depths of this frail human body; it’s rough, almost brutal but he knows that Steve wants him like that. Writhing and crying, so perfect and soft, Steve begs him for more:

   “Deeper, baby. Go harder. I can take it.”

It’s beautiful, the way Steve’s tears glisten in the moonlight as he loses himself in the harsh rhythm of Eddie’s hips slapping against his skin. Deeper and deeper Eddie thrusts into his hole, fucks him hard and good. He pulls out a beautiful whimper with every push, viscously dragging his inhuman size along Steve’s inner walls, hitting the right spot over and over again. He’s got one hand curled around Steve’s hardness, gliding spit-slicked and in merciful contrast to his otherwise torturous movements up and down the length of it; giving Steve what he needs to find relief.

When Eddie can feel Steve tripping over the edge, he finds his neck again and bites down once more just for fun, just to take in all of Steve. To feel his warm blood on his tongue and his slick release on his fist, fills him up in return as a reward, a thank you, a sign of his undying love – you’re mine, I am yours, we are one in this unholy union.

Steve comes down slowly, held tight in Eddie’s arms with his wings wrapped around them to keep Steve warm against the cool night air.

It’s almost midnight, they’ve got only got a few more hours together. So they do what they always do – stay close, hold each other, kiss. Eddie listens to Steve talk about his life, his work, his friends (‘They miss you. It’s hard not to tell them you’re alive.’ – ‘Well I’m not really, am I? It’s better that way. I’m only here because of you.') Steve cries and Eddie feels his pain tenfold.

   “Please stay.”

It’s the same desperate plea every time. And Eddie wants nothing more than to give in, wants to stay with Steve in this beautiful, dark dream but they both know he can’t.

   “I’ll come back.”

Before the moon begins to make way for the rising sun, Eddie carries a sleeping Steve back to his home, lays him gently down on his bed and kisses his lips once more.

And like so many times before, the only thing he can take with him into the darkness he made his own prison to keep everyone safe, is the love that keeps him alive.

   “I’ll come back,” he promises again, “I’ll always come back to you, Steve.”

[sciderman]

YES SCI YES YOU GET IT

like. okay, i dont think david way's run was AMAZING. it was flawed!! i think it struggled a lot with the execution of its ideas especially since there wasn't more natural flow between the comedy and more serious aspects, they interfered with each other a lot. HOWEVER. if you ignore the execution and just look at the underlying concepts behind the stories in way's run you start to appreciate it. way had such cool and fun ideas (i may be cringe but i really do like "evil deadpool" as bad as that name is not necessarily as a character but conceptually and as a medium for wade to Work Through Shit) and i think he may be gets a bit too much shit for it.

(i do, however, hate that way's run was basically the only reference material used for the deadpool game bc they stripped any more serious moments and themes from the run and JUST did the lol random humor and did irreparable damage by painting deadpool the taco memes guy and nothing more)

((also i might reread way's run now too :] ))

oh i have THOUGHTS about the deadpool game

way's run had such an impact on deadpool's pop-culture presence and my god. i think it was the timing of it, being at peak rage-comic icanhascheeseburger meme era of the internet where people would share panels out-of-context for the haha funnies and so that kind of was just how people were exposed to deadpool. deadpool became like, the comic equivalent to like, trollface or something

it's kind of over now, we kind of have a more complex deadpool out there doing his deadpooliest - and i can't say i miss the era of 7 different deadpool books and all of them being cringe incarnate. but i do miss the playfulness of way's era of deadpool. i think duggan and poeshn literally. actively did everything they could to "normalise" wade. make him like everyone else.

get rid of the boxes ✔️ give him a wife ✔️ give him a kid ✔️ put him on the avengers roster ✔️

i don't know, it was kind of a huge endeavour to make him normal. he still had all his misery, sure, but it became a lot less fantastical and probably more...? relatable? to your average straight middle-aged guy. but i think it's a shame, because i do like fantastical. i think it's fun to get fantastical with it. these are fantastical characters. so i love the grand hallucinations and indecipherable nonsense. i love the creativity. i love not-normal.

i think wade is boring now. comics wade is boring. he's boring, he's cutesy, he's not the weird messed up problematic fave that i fell in love with. i miss the problematic parts of him, instead of him just being a pity-fest. i miss his weird brain. i don't know what's going on up in there anymore. maybe dua lipa's "dance the night" en loope, maybe that's all that's going on in wade's head right now. yeah.

[skyyknights]

biggest thoughts on skyward sword link?

aight. get ready. because I have many thoughts about him.

So, first off, yes, he is a silly sleepy doofus of a sky boy who is extremely soft and adorable and deserves everything. But, while that take is 100% correct and should not be overlooked, he is also a feral rabid gremlin who can and will tear your face off with his bare hands if the need arises (such as if you threaten Zelda).

(I mean. there's your proof right there...)

Now, a lot of people think that Link from Breath of the Wild is the strongest/toughest/etc.

Politely, I disagree.

So then who is the strongest? None other than Sky Link.

Let's start with the basics. He might not have been raised on a farm or in service as a knight for the royal family, but at the same time, he's attended an academy specifically for training knights his entire life. At the start of the game he can lift and throw massive barrels, is stated and shown to be an excellent climber, is a natural at Loftwing flying and at catching Zelda when she throws herself off of Skyloft, and is already excellent with a blade. Later on he can lift and throw small boulders, and push large wooden crates and metal carts.

But like I said, that's just the basics.

Sky Link also fights/defeats the Imprisoned and Ghirahim three times. Both grow stronger with each battle, but he defeats them nonetheless. Ghirahim at first sees him as just a silly little child who can't possibly defeat him; he quickly learns Link is anything but that and in all three of his fights becomes so humiliated that he rages at Link and on two occasions leaves instead of allowing himself to be defeated further. "You think I can't defeat you? You think I can't win? What are you, boy?" he asks in the final fight. He's afraid of Link, because Link is too powerful for him. He's the silly soft sky child, but three times now he has claimed victory over the Demon King's right hand man.

Then there's the Silent Realms, of which Link goes through four. Each one becomes increasingly more difficult and dangerous, and yet he completes all of them. Not only that, but he finds each Sacred Flame required to strengthen Fi and ends up forging the true Master Sword. He also earns and wields the full Triforce, which only a tiny handful of other Links have done. He also survives getting crushed by boulders on numerous occasions and is imprisoned (probably with a concussion) but escapes; battles a massive army of Moblins, Stalfos, and Bokoblins; and with each Silent Realm, his spirit grows, signifying he is not only strong physically, but mentally.

Anything I'm forgetting, besides the fact that Hylia specifically chose him to be her hero and defeat-

Oh yeah.

Demise.

Yup, in case anyone forgot, Sky Link kills Demise, the literal embodiment of evil itself, the original villain from whom Ganondorf comes. Demise is the most powerful enemy in LoZ who not only destroyed Hylia, but nearly all of the Surface as well; according to him, humans cower and quake upon seeing him; none but Link have ever dared to even consider standing up to him. Fighting Link, to Demise, is a casual, lighthearted ordeal where he believes he can take it easy before going off and destroying the world.

But yeah, that doesn't quite happen.

In the end, Link defeats Demise utterly on a battlefield of water and lightning, charging his own blade with it and striking the killing blow. Demise perishes and is absorbed into the Master Sword, directly after threatening that his hate, never perishing, will follow Link and Zelda throughout time.

And there you have it. Sky has just defeated the original incarnation of a cycle of endless hatred.

(while looking like this 90% of the time. he is babey. but stronk and dangerous babey who could kill u with a look).

[writerbuddha]

Just a question. I want to make a fic about the first Jedi and his disciples before Disney gets the drop on me. I'm only familar with disney canon. What miracles are associated with the buddha and the bodhissatva and what way can I characterize the philosophy of the force in buddhist terms?

The basic idea was that the first Jedi is basically a wandering Gautama Buddha and his disciples were basically the Eight Bodhisattva. Manjushri is known for his kindness and wisdom. Guanyin is kind and compassionate. Vajrapani is strength and protection incarnate. Maitreya is prophesized to bring balance to the force. Ksitigarbha swore to save everyone in the galaxy no matter how evil and no matter what it costs her and I don't really know much about the rest. Might even toss some characters like Sun Wukong and other buddhist associated characters.

The intent is to make the first jedi a real larger than life figure. God's amongst mortals who would make any other force user look like a joke. Yet also make them suprisingly human in that the first jedi just wants to help people and comfort them and doesn't want to use such powers in the first place for violence.

I also want to play around with the first sith and portray them as Eldritch abominations and monsters who feed of the weak and oppressed. Maybe they would be the Mara analogue in this telling.

Oh, this is intriguing! I love this concept!

Buddhism and Miracles

The Buddhist view on miracles, wonders, magic, superhuman powers is a quite complex one. There is a threefold distinction of Buddhism: the Buddhist science of the mind, Buddhist philosophy and Buddhist religion. The miracles of Gautama Buddha are belonging to the realm of Buddhist religion: it is proposed that through mental training one can achieve miraculous powers, as the basis of "miracles" is perfect control over one's own mind, like goldsmiths making the gold pure and workable, so they can use it to create wonderous things. The Buddha was reportedly manifested the ability to walk on water, to read other people's minds, to fly through air, to heal the wounded with his will, or growing a tree full of flowers and jewels out of his toothpick, calming down a raging elephant that attacked the village he visited, and so on. However, such miracles are all subordinate to the one true, genuinely miraculous power that one must strive for: the ability to guide people according to their mental development, for their own good, using suitable methods to fit these people.

It must be noted that in Buddhist mythology, miraculous powers are regarded as potential off-shoots of practice. Through mental training, one can develop the capacity to concentrate the power of the mind. But it's crucial to understand that in Buddhist thought, these abilities aren't dependent on the cultivation of wisdom and compassion: in stories, it's not just possible, but actually quite common for someone to gain such powers without any significant, or even meaningful spiritual and psychological progress. For this reason, the Buddhist view on these miraculous powers - should they exist at all - is that if you have them, that's a sign that you're making progress, but you mustn't brag about or reveal them, unless it's absolutely necessary. And unless you're fully awakened, these supernormal powers have a way of engendering supernormal defilements. The Buddha, like most most spiritual or religious teachers of the East, warned against those individuals who display miracles to attract people to their traditions, because there is a good chance that they're tricksters led by greed, or that their holiness is on shaky grounds.

The wholesome and unwholesome use of miracles

There is a story about the fifteen days of the miracles demonstrated by the Buddha, all performed in response to the relentless claims of six ascetics who claimed, the teachings of the Buddha are invalid, as they possess mystic powers far grater than him. The Buddha outdid every single miracles the ascetics were able to produce. Since such display of special powers was done in order to arouse or strengthen faith - which is, in Buddhism, refers to trust or confidence in the Buddha's path of practice and one's own potential for enlightenment - the performance of the fifteen miracles was a wholesome act. And likewise, there's the story of Khema: she was a young, extraordinarily beautiful queen, who was clinging on physical beauty. When she met the Buddha, he was able to read her mind, and he manifested a time-lapse of a young and even more beautiful woman, aging it to middle age, old age, very old age, then to dust. As a result, Khema realized the true, impermanent nature of the object of her attachment. This is another example for the wholesome use of miracles.

In Star Wars, this can be likened to Master Yoda using the Force in Episode V to rise Luke Skywalker's x-wing out of the swamp: this "miracle" was demonstrated to arouse trust and confidence in Jedi teachings and in his apprentice's own potential to become a Jedi. You can see that Jedi Knights are demonstrating their abilities only "for knowledge and defense" as Yoda said.

When it comes to unwholesome uses of miracles, we have the story of Pindola Bharadwaja, who was one of the Buddha's first disciples. It's said that one day, a wealthy merchant, who didn't believe in the existence of the extraordinary powers of holy men, challenged them: he suspended a beautiful and expensive sandalwood alms bowl from the top of a really high bamboo pole, and said, the master who can get it down, can keep it. Pindola Bharadwaja, who progressed very fast in his mental training, and attained several miraculous powers as a result, stepped forward. He rose into the air easily and took the bowl. The people were in awe, but their excitement alerted the Buddha who arrived to the scene. He broke the bowl into pieces and said, he is very displeased by the public display of such miracles, likening it to prostitution that is done for the sake of cheap delights.

That's because this miracle wasn't performed to benefit others, it didn't arouse trust or confidence in the Buddhist path and in one's own potential for enlightenment. It was done to impress and to show off, thus, it was distasteful. In Star Wars, this can be compared to Anakin Skywalker using the Force in Episode II to fly a fruit through air in order to impress Padmé - he even admits, "If Master Obi-Wan caught me doing this, he'd be very grumpy."

Bodhisattvas

Bodhisattva can mean anyone who vows to become enlightened in order to relieve the suffering of all beings, but there are also celestial Bodhisattvas, who are realized beings, inspired by the wish to attain complete enlightenment, and have vowed to be reborn in the world to help all living beings. They're deity-like beings, however, it should be noted that these Bodhisattvas are representing our potentials.

Guanyin - or Avalokitesvara or Chenrezig - is enlightened compassion, Vajrapani is the powerful energy of enlightenment that can be utilized to do many good things, Manjushri is the enlightened wisdom. I think the most important ability that these Bodhisattvas are said to possess, is that they're able manifest themselves in hundreds or even thousands of bodies simultaneously.

In this essay of mine, I examined Jedi teachings and how the Force works - these are, on the fundamental level, identical to Buddhist philosophy. I hope it will help:

Māra and the Dark Side of the Force

In Buddhism, although Māra is depicted as a god or demon, he is an aspect of the mind and the heart: the inner experience of all forms of attachment, greed, hatred, and delusion, everything that interferes with and puts to an end our spiritual practice. His "armies" are sensual desire, discontent, hunger and thirst, craving, laziness, fear, indecisive wavering (doubt), restlessness, longing for the transitory things in life (gain, praise, honor, and fame), and praising oneself and belittling others. His three "daughters" are thirst, delight and desire.

When Māra is discussed as an external being, he is said to reside in the highest heavenly realms of cyclic existence, thus, he enjoys long life, power, privileges and pleasures. But it must be noted that he is, like any other being, subjected to Karma, birth and death, and there are stories that gave a closure to him as an external entity: he ends up being a Buddhist himself. So, if you wish to draw an analogy with Māra in a complex and intriguing story you draw up, I suggest to use the Son as his Star Wars counterpart. He embodies the dark side of the Force, but he is also the mosaic of the light side and the dark side just like all living beings in George Lucas' Star Wars universe.

The story of Devadatta as a potential inspiration

If you would like to use Buddhist stories as inspiration for the Sith, I recommend you the story of Devadatta, the Buddha's enemy. In the Theravada tradition, Devadatta, who was one of the disciples of the Buddha, attained several miraculous powers through mental training, but no wisdom and compassion. His miracles convinced a crown prince, Ajatasattu, that he is a great teacher. But Devadatta became obsessed with his own skills and sought fame and power, declaring, he should be the one who leads the Order of Buddhists and not the Buddha. Even though his miraculous powers began to fade as his mind became clouded by such afflictions, he started to preach his own teachings, claiming, they're from the Buddha himself.

The Buddha warned him that he is on the path of self-destruction but Devadatta was relentless. Long story short, he was so consumed by greed that he eventually convinced prince Ajatasattu to kill his father, the king, and usurp the throne, while he assassinates the Buddha. As an attempt, he unleashed a raging elephant, but it was calmed by the loving-kindness of the Buddha, and his other attempts failed as well. Although Ajatasattu took the throne, the public was so resented of Devadatta that he was forced to withdraw his support. After this, he tried to cause a schism in the Order, but his followers were won over by the Buddha. Devadatta eventually died of sickness, his bad mental state supposedly ate into his physical health, however, in his final moments, he realized his mistakes.

The story of Devadatta, in my opinion, is an ideal inspiration for the first Sith, if we go with the notion that the Sith were Force-sensitives who left the Jedi Order. This is in Disney canon, I think. If we go with the fact that according to George Lucas, the Sith ruled the known universe before they destroyed themselves, we have a more complex situation, because that would imply that the first Jedi started out as a Sith apprentice or a Sith Lord, like Gautama Buddha started out as a prince living in luxury, and not a great spiritual teacher, or that the Sith were able to gain control over the galaxy, like Darth Sidious did, with the difference that there wasn't an Emperor, but many warring Sith Lords who all sought to rule the whole galaxy.

[balanceoflightanddark]

Restless Souls: the Origins of the Most Evil Godzilla

It's no secret to anyone that Godzilla has run almost the entire morality spectrum in terms of morality in his 60+ career. He's gone from being an allegory for the hydrogen bomb to a destructive force of nature to a defender of the earth and back again, sometimes within the same film. It is to be expected for a series that's been around for so long with various creators having their own interpretations and view of the character, and how societal norms have changed over the years.

In this regard, the version seen in Godzilla, Mothra, and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All Out Attack (or GMK for short) is...unique.

This particular version of the king of the monsters is widely considered to be the most malevolent he's ever been. Granted, he's no stranger to being a bad guy and causing catastrophic amounts of death and destruction. But this incarnation is especially monstrous. There's a number of times where he almost seems to smile or sneer at the terrified civilians he's killing, whereas most versions are just rage incarnate. Even his design looks wrong, with those milky white blank eyes making him appear more like a ghoulish harbinger of death as opposed to any actual animal.

Well...there's an in-universe reason for why this particular Godzilla is so destructive than normal.

Hirotoshi Isayama: “This animal contains the restless souls of the countless people who perished during the terrible battles that took place during the Pacific conflict.”

Yuri Tachibana: “Their souls? In Godzilla?”

Hirotoshi Isayama: “In Godzilla, the souls of all those people have combined to bring life to the monster. Believe me, I have tried to warn people but they refused to listen. They think I'm mad.”

Yuri Tachibana: “But tell me, why does Godzilla keep attacking Japan? Why does it want to destroy us?”

Hirotoshi Isayama: “Because the Japanese people want to forget what happened... They have deemed it preferable to forget the pain and agony they inflicted on all those people!”

(Copied from Wikizilla)

To sum up, this version of Godzilla is explicitly said to be supernatural in origin. He's effectively the amalgamation of millions of souls that were killed in the Pacific and Chinese theaters that were unable to rest in death possessing the corpse of the original Godzilla that was killed in the first movie. And when you have that much undiluted hate and malice in one giant undead monster, you have a recipe for a particularly malevolent entity.

Interestingly enough, Japanese folklore does tell of a similar entity which might have inspired the creators.

According to Yokai.com, the Gashadokuro is a particularly terrifying yokai. The amalgamation of the souls of fallen soldiers who were denied proper burials, the Gashadokuro is a gigantic skeletal monstrosity formed by the bones and skulls of the deceased and animated by an unearthly hatred for the living that denied them their rest. Nearly unstoppable due to its size and strength, the Gashadokuro was a nightmarish being who's whole existence was to wreck havoc and death upon the world.

Given how spiritual beliefs and legends play in the narrative of GMK, Godzilla does have an uncanny resemblance to the Gashadokuro. Him going out of his way to kill civilians and innocents lines up perfectly with the Gashadokuro's hatred for mortals. Even his design looks less like a living animal and more like a corpse, with dead blank eyes, bony spines, and a bloated stomach full of decomposing gasses. And ultimately, he was almost unstoppable in the film, killing off three monsters awakened to defeat him and the majority of the JSDF. All of which lines up with the legend.

Which is what makes this version of Godzilla so destructive and malevolent. All that rage and hate of the restless dead created this monstrosity who's only purpose was to hurt and kill. Effectively, he's less a living being, and more an unrelenting engine of death and hate.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Does Rafal have Thalassoharpaxophobia? (Google it...)

Note:

This will take a dark turn. Rafal did not appreciate your question.

⸻

[They respond in unison:]

Rhian: Yes. / Rafal: No.

Rafal: [He glares at Rhian.] I don't fear pirates—they just don't sit right with me. Traitors, the whole lot of them!

Rhian: It's a phobia. Own up to it.

Rafal: Do you see me quaking in fear around them? No, I do not. There. That is your answer: I don't have a phobia.

Rhian: Just because you don't expose your fear doesn't mean you don't feel it.

Rafal: I don't have feelings.

Rhian: Not true. It seems you can feel rage perfectly well. And you're a sore loser.

Rafal: Again, you're wrong. I display emotions to my advantage. That doesn't mean they're real.

Rhian: Fair enough. But I still think you have a phobia, as brilliant a liar that you are.

Rafal: [He finally snaps.] It's not a phobia, Rhian!

Rhian: Whatever you say... and yet—how do you explain why you shoo every single pirate away?

Rafal: It's not because of me. It's-it's because of you! Just how do you expect me—us—to do our work when those foul pests are raising hell on School grounds? They're bad influences.

Rhian: And you're not one?

Rafal: I thought this was about them, not me.

Rhian: [stares at his brother in askance]

Rafal: Fine. I'll admit I'm a bad influence, but it's my job to be one. Think of the students. Besides, you're immune to me by this point, so it doesn't matter either way. Pirates are another story. They do affect you.

Rhian: So now you say you care about the students? What next? Another brazen, bald-faced lie?

Rafal: I'm done with this conversation. For the record, I do not have a phobia.

Rhian: No! Come back! It just became interesting!

[Rafal stalks off.]

[Rhian waits for him to be out of hearing range.]

Rhian: He definitely has a phobia.

Rafal: [shouting] You don't get the last word! I do.

Rhian: [shrugs] Petty. He always leaves me. If only he'd associate with pirates. He has a lot in common with them.

[Rafal halts in his tracks and returns suddenly.]

Rafal: If you’re insinuating I was a deserter, I told you that I wouldn't do it again. Hell, I wouldn't have left if I had known all that would come to pass under your authority.

Rhian: Empty words. Hot air. Guff. What more can you expect from Evil incarnate?

Rafal: Rhian. Stop talking to strangers with their invasive questions. We're done here.

Rhian: Farewell 'til next time, my fair, devoted disciples!

Rafal: [sighs heavily. In a strained voice:] Listen here, Rhian. First, they don't like you. Second, they're glutting you with falsehoods, and third, there won't be a next time. I'm washing my hands of this rabblement, pirates included, and you ought to too.

Rhian: Pay him no mind. All, including pirates, are welcome. [He winks.]

Rafal: I will carve out your tongue if you keep jabbering away like a fool.

Rhian: [outraged, as if he were victimized] See what I have to live with?

Rafal: You're crying out into a cold and unsympathetic void. Whatever passive “audience” you believe we have is as hard and unfeeling as the Storian. They love to watch our pain and misery. They laugh and mercilessly mock us as the Storian does. I wish death upon them all. No, worse.

Rhian: Even if that’s true, mind your manners! [then, in a whisper] You know I’ll just die if whoever is out there doesn’t come away with a good impression.

Rafal: Again, I don’t see why you care about those faceless tormentors of ours. [with a stern look:] To anyone reading: we are not your manikins or playthings. Neither Rhian nor I. You are subordinate to me, and inferiors such as yourselves don’t dictate what we do.

Rhian: The question was harmless, Rafal.

Rafal: But was it victimless? Look at us.

Rhian: What about us?

Rafal: [accusatory] They want to see us fight. They're setting us against each other.

Rhian: My sincerest apologies to everyone. He’s not usually like this, as far as tact and diplomacy extend. He, er… woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

Rafal: [abrasively] You still can’t see it, can you? Stop talking and they might just leave us alone.

Rhian: They’re probably gone by now, Rafal. You’ve probably driven them off with that cranky disposition.

Rafal: Doubtful. I know they’re out there. And I’ll be waiting.

Rhian: Enough. I—

Rafal: I think that one day, one day, they’ll surface, and on that day...

Rhian: I’d advise you to run for your lives if you care an ounce for your self-preservation.

Rafal: They'll turn up. They’re sadists and masochists. Why do you think they read our tales?

⸻

My answer to this ask would be no.

It's probably just an impassioned hatred of pirates, an aversion. A full-blown phobia just seems extreme and a little unlikely. I don't think Rafal would generalize and discriminate against all pirates as far as fear goes, but, then again, in terms of simple hatred and his low opinion of them as a collective, I think he would hate them indiscriminately. He'd reject them at every turn, from Hook's betrayal and onwards. But, I could understand viewing Rafal as traumatized in some way through Hook, considering Hook's role in their tale.

[iturbide]

I think everything you said RE: Grima and violence and age is why I'm one of those who prefers the reincarnation angle: it allows at least ONE Grima to wrestle some amount of agency over his own future away from everyone else.

Robin wholeheartedly rejects the future of being violent and evil and hurting people by existing. He chooses to live among people. It strikes me this can only happen in a timeline Grima sent himself back in, because what allows Robin to grab that agency is the memory from Grima: the memory of killing Chrom, which to me implies INTENSE REGRET for that to linger from Grima's going backwards in time.

I'm really glad you like that breakdown! I think a lot of the preference for possession vs incarnation can come down to what tropes each individual enjoys most, and for me personally, there's a lot of narrative appeal to the possession angle.

A big things for me is how it paints Validar, honestly. Sombron may be far, far more monstrous in the grand scheme of things, but there is something so intimately heinous to me about Validar looking at his newborn child and seeing not the endless possibilities that might await that new life, but a meat puppet, made to be drained of potential and filled with the will of an ancient god. He says himself that he's willing to bring Robin to the brink of death, specifically because it won't matter how he broke them after Grima claims their vessel. It says so much about his character.

One of my favorite things about it is the idea of a dragon suddenly finding themselves in a human body, and how they would adjust. I love the image of the striking change in body language: Grima's dragon form doesn't have lips, so their old body gaped its jaws when it wanted to smile, and this translates in expressions that are too wide and unnerving in a human body; little gestures also become more exaggerated, like head tilts when confused or examining something, because the dragon had a long neck with a much larger range of motion that's just not possible on a human body (though the instinct to try is still there).

(Also, I do have a soft spot for the horror aspect of Robin's friends and family seeing that figure and recognizing them...until they move, or speak, and realizing in an instant that something is Wrong, because that's not how Robin walks, that's not how Robin sounds, so who is that?? I love that so much, it's so fun to play with.)

But while it's certainly true that the reincarnation aspect is very poignant, personally I think that the possession angle has equal potential for emotional resonance -- just maybe in a different way.

So, fair warning, this is a lot of personal speculation and headcanon, but at this point it's baked into a lot of my writing so there's no getting away from it.

It starts with Grima being sealed by Naga and the First Exalt. I think it's fairly reasonable to say they were pretty pissed about this fact. But also...there really wasn't anything they could do anymore, at that point. They could rage and fume all they wanted, but they no longer had a connection to the world. Maybe they could watch, somehow, from a distance, or through a veil, but the world was out of reach. For a thousand years -- a substantial chunk of time even for a dragon -- they were disconnected from everything.

And then, very suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, they feel something.

Because Robin has been born bearing the Heart of Grima.

For the first time in a millennium, Grima has a connection to the world through this newborn babe. They can feel through Robin's senses, hear through Robin's ears, see through Robin's eyes. The world looks different from this perspective, rather than seeing it all from above, and though Grima has no direct influence over anything, they soak it in all the same, because it's different and it's new and no matter how they might deny it, they want this.

And so Grima gets to see Robin grow up. Secreted away from Plegia by their mother, Grima is first-hand witness to Robin's upbringing, able to see the shape that the world molds them into. And perhaps they find themselves growing attached to this child, who is told from a young age that they were born with a gift, a blessing, in the form of their Brand...and who chooses to safeguard it. Robin does not hate their connection to Grima and try to disavow it, nor do they flaunt it and use that blessing as an excuse to exert their will over others: they hide it from the world, yes, but only to prevent it from falling into hands that would use it for evil.

Grima knew what it was to be both revered and reviled in equal measure by mankind. But Robin's connection is different. There is no reward for protecting that secret, but they do so regardless. They love Grima, in a way that the Fell Dragon doesn't recognize.

Grima finds themselves returning that love in whatever way they can. They lend power when Robin is in need, fueling the Ignis skill that saves their life on more than one occasion. They listen sympathetically to Robin's thoughts, and perhaps offer advice in the bad times (though Robin never recognizes it as anything more than their own worst impulses). They come to care for the human that was made to be their vessel, and want for them all the things they could never have for themselves.

But they see, too, that the world has not changed that much in the thousand years they've been dead. Humans are still cruel and callous, still dishonest and dogmatic, still killing one another over less than nothing. Grima sees everything they loathed about the world remains just the way it was...and then sees Robin live through it, choosing to fight only when they have to, choosing to be kind even when they shouldn't. And Grima can't hate Robin, as much as they might want to. They've come to care too much for that.

Eventually Robin falls in with the Shepherds, and maybe things aren't easy, but they're better. Robin starts to open up They make friends. They're happy -- really happy, not just putting on a front. And Grima is happy for them, glad to see them finally getting the good things they deserve in life, and vicariously enjoying it all through that connection they share.

...but then everything goes wrong.

Then there comes a war with Plegia.

Then there comes the Dragon's Table.

Then there comes an insidious presence, forcing Robin to act in ways they never would.

And their dearest friend dies at their own hand.

Robin is bereft. Robin despairs.

And in that bleak, terrible moment, Grima reaches out to them, and promises them the power to make the man responsible pay. To make him suffer, as he has made Robin suffer.

Robin is grieving. Robin isn't thinking.

And just once, Robin gives in to their worst impulses. Because in that moment, more than anything in the world, they want revenge against the man who made them murder their closest friend.

And Grima takes control of their vessel, and smites Validar off the face of the earth on Robin's behalf. Plegia is already dead because of Validar, her entire population wiped out by his Grimleal Cult to raise the dragon's body; Grima turns the sea of corpses to Risen, and sets them on the monsters who saw this atrocity through.

That's all it takes. One moment of weakness. One mistake, made in a moment of despair. It's not until later that they both realize that this cannot be undone: that Grima's soul, now bound within Robin's body, can't be removed; that Robin's soul, nudged aside but held tight to keep it from being disembodied, can't resume control of their own body without both of them expending incredible effort. The Risen, now unleashed, cannot be controlled, and once the last of the Grimleal Cult are dead they spread inexorably across the land.

And so Lucina's timeline comes to ruin -- all because Robin loved Chrom, and Grima loved Robin.

But, of course, that's not the end of the story. Because Lucina, in an effort to change fate, petitions Naga and returns to the past with the other Shepherds' children, escaping their dying world to prevent catastrophe. And Grima follows her into the past...not to assure their resurrection, but to prevent it.

They know from the outset that they are choosing death. But this time, it is their choice. To preserve a world that Robin loved, and to give Robin a chance at a happy life, Grima goes back to help Lucina change the past, entering Validar's fold to unmake his designs where they can, minimize the potential damage where they can't.

And this time, love doesn't end in tragedy.

[celestiall0tus]

So, after some planning and getting the next chapter of Amaranthine ready (that being chapter 8 at the time of writing this) I can honestly say for the first time in any of my works, I can genuinely display the true shifting of powers with the Paradise set. And I don't mean just the Snake in that work either.

Admittedly it was always easiest to just slap easy labels such as good, bad, or morally grey onto characters, especially morally grey. However, with Amaranthine, I can fully display it with obviously the Snake, but now the Dragon and Butterfly.

I know I've yet to reveal the Snake villain, but I offer something else. From a valiant knight that'd defend the people, using their powers for the benefit of the people, the knight falls from grace. Fueled by rage and an ancient betrayal, the knight casts aside her armor in her rampage as an undying barbarian.

I present Guenevere, embodiment of disaster

So, this one was fun and a massive pain in the fucking ass. This will be the result of Marinette being soulbound to Longg, allowing them to share thoughts, feelings, and experience things together when transformed. When confronted with an ancient betrayal, Longg's anger will warp them into Guenevere, agent of disaster.

The design began to take inspiration from a barbarian. See, originally I was going to have Mari be a dragon human hybrid more before I back tracked a bit. I leaned into her shedding her armor and her clothes being in tatters. This led to the barbarian motif with the long, wild hair and the scales that arguably looks like blood. Black and red for the aggressive and dangerous coloring.

Now, the name. So, Guenevere may seem a little out of left field when there are characters like Mordred and Morgan Le Fay, true antagonists of modern Arthurian legend. However, Morgan wasn't always evil. In fact her earliest incarnations had her as Queen of Avalon and the one that Arthur was brought to have his mortal wounds healed. As for Mordred, he was regarded as a hero/good knight in earlier tales, though the earliest didn't have him much aside from a name drop. Then, why Guenevere? Well...

Now, Guenevere is an interesting character that is often portrayed as villain for her affair on Arthur with Lancelot and not being faithful to Arthur, however, depending on the telling, you can't fully blame her if you consider Arthur's actions. Regardless, most audiences would see her as a component of Arthur's destruction (even though Arthur usually brought it on himself). Made worse that, if I recall correctly, she was brought in during the Arthurian romance and wasnt part of the original legends unlike Mordred and Morgan Le Fay. So, taking that and Guenevere was caught between two loves as Marinette is, I thought it'd be fun.

[greenyvertekins]

I honestly find it almost... surprising? How easily the fandom loses engagement with most of the IDW OCs. I only frequent the IDW Sonic tag and thus I definitely don't get a full overview of everything the whole of Tumblr contains, but posts with Belle in them seem to have almost completely disappeared off the face of the website. The same with Surge and Kit: there was a huge surge (heh) of fanart & posts around them when Imposter Syndrome was getting released and when they were in the main comics, but now there is just so much less of it. Same with the Diamond Cutters when they first were revealed, Mimic, a little bit of Nite and Don (because they were so minor but still, not a peep about those two anymore), and probably tons of OCs I'm completely forgetting about (because let's be real, they can definitely be not very remarkable). The moment they haven't been in a new or recent issue, tons of people from their fandom seem to forget about them completely. I quite wonder if the same if the same is going to happen if/when Lanolin gets directed to the background again.

It's because their so much more one-dimensional and thus far more boring compared to the game characters. Belle, as you mentioned, is especially so because she's tied to a plot point that overstayed it's welcome from being dragged on and on and because writers think that using speech quirks relating to her nature is interesting and quirky when it isn't.

I recall saying this, something along these lines in a previous reply to an ask;

Sonic Team: "Sonic is a bold and somehwhat arrogant explorer but he's very kind and hates injustice! He lives a life of adventure but likes to read books during the rainy season! He isn't a daydreamer, understands multiple languages because he speaks with his heart and grieves but in private. He enjoys chili dogs. He can change form via energy absorption and most of his abilities stem directly from his speed yet have huge variety!" "Tails is humble but is a gifted mechanical genius. He wants to prove his worth to Sonic even though Sonic always acknowledges it. He adores mint candy! He has a habit of stating the obvious and blowing plans by talking too much. He can use his two tails not just to fly but to boost his speed whilst running. He's a brilliant pilot too."

Ian Flynn/Evan Stanley/Other IDW staff: "Starline gay! Mimic gay! Who-gives-a-shit the Owl and Nobody the Rooster gay! Whisper and Tangle gay! *Shoves it in your face with a lesbian flag background in a panel*. Silver is a perpetually, round-eyed happy boi in complete contrast to how he's actually portrayed in the games. Lanolin is the second coming of Sally. Look how evil Clutch and Mimic are with their EVIIILLL eyes! Sonic is a raging hypocritical gaslighting douchebag completely, utterly incompatible with his game incarnation. Unfitting song lyrics as actual dialogue."

[tsukii0002]

Hii!! I like ur new write style!Today i came with a question, do u ever think what sin lillith would represent? I fell that will be smt about coward idk what do u think?

What sin would Lilith represent?

Another interesting question and also about Lilith. Believe it or not, Lilith is one of my favorite characters, why? Because knowing so little about her, anything can happen. You can imagine her personality, her problems, her story... something similar happens to me with the demon king and with Michael. But she is special, in a way she is the trigger of the whole story. So here I leave you my thoughts on our angel ancestor.

I headcanon that Lilith was an angel with great power, but she wasn't looking to be useful like Levi, she wasn't looking not to be a burden to others like Beel or to be recognized like Mammon. She just wanted to be happy, live her best life with her brothers and loved ones.

For this reason, when the fall happened and her brothers became demons, Lilith felt a great guilt. A guilt that would weigh on her shoulders for all eternity. For her happiness and her beloved, she had damned the people she loved the most and destroyed THEIR happiness. Here she would fit as a coward, she had let the others bear the consequences of their actions, she had not faced them, like a coward.

But I think there was something that weighed more heavily than guilt. The rage, the anger, the feeling of having been betrayed by her family, but above all a question, why? Aren't angels supposed to be the embodiment of good and justice? Aren't their goodness and love supposed to be infinite? Then why? Her father, the one who had created her, the one who had taught her to love, condemned her... for loving?

There are so many possibilities that it is difficult to choose one. The only thing I am clear about is that Lilith's transformation would be something like "the purest becomes the most demonic", therefore she would be a more fearsome demon than her brothers.

Lilith's resentment towards the celestial realm would really turn her into an even more powerful demon. She could be the avatar of resentment, unable to forgive; she could be the avatar of destruction or the incarnation of pain, a pain that haunts the soul...

And in that situation, he could have decided to go to the human world, to say goodbye to her beloved and to leave his seed throughout the human world, as a way of spreading evil throughout it. Thus, many thousands of years later, Lilith would meet one of the descendants of those seeds... or something like that 🙄🙄

.

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I'm sorry it took so long, I've been a bit absent, and I also apologize that this took longer than necessary. As always, many thanks to @kkcharm , your ideas are always very interesting and fun, they help me a lot to imagine and write.

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[lexi-the-demon-69]

Monster // A Cookie Run Kingdom oneshot

Here's the continuation of the What if idea! Since a lot of you guys asked me if there would be a part 2. So, here's the full story!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"It is my life's greatest regret, TO HAVE EVER CALLED YOU MY SON!"

That very sentence was the blade that severed the last bit of patience that Dark Choco had left in his body. Immediately, something inside of him snapped. Like a rubber band, being pulled too far apart. A malicious red aura began to surround the cookie, as the gem of the strawberry jam sword began to fuse into Dark Choco's chest. Cracks began to form, as the aura began to grow stronger.

"W-WHAT'S GOING ON WITH HIM?!" Licorice sputtered.

"Is this..." Pomegranate questioned, "the power of the strawberry jam sword....?"

Dark Cacao cookie sprinted towards Dark Choco, striking him before he could make a move. Until a bright red explosion tossed him back like a rag doll. Everyone who was somewhat near the prince was thrown into a nearby wall or floor. As the dust cleared, their eyes were met with a horrifying sight. A black and red monsterous being stood where Dark Choco cookie stands. One of its eyes missing and in its place was a bright, devilish light that looked hotter than the witches' oven. The gem of the strawberry jam sword, beckoning on the monster's chest. This was not Dark Choco cookie. Yet only an incarnation of his anger and rage.

The monster came to its senses and began to look around. Spotting Dark Cacao Cookie, who was frozen in shock and disbelief.

"Dark Choco cookie...?" The king quietly said.

The monster growls viciously and in a blink of an eye, sprints toward the king with a righteous force. Making Dark Cacao cookie hold out his sword in preparation to slice the beast into two. However, before he could do a thing, the remaining watchers stood grandly before him to attack the beast.

"Watchers! Get into position! Remember your training! No retreat!" Barked Caramel Arrow cookie.

"Right!" The watchers barked back.

"For the king!"

"For the king!"

The Watchers immediately surrounded the beast and began to attack with all of their might. Arrows soared grandly through the air, swords clashing together, but it wasn't enough. Without any effort, the beast swiped them all away, as if they were mere flies on a wall.

"M-my king!" Caramel Arrow cookie shouted, "He's too strong!"

"Stand your ground!" The king shouted. "We fight until the bitter end."

"Understood!"

However, before anyone could attack, the beast knocked Dark Cacao cookie through the walls of the citadel. Leaving nothing but a hole behind. The beast started to run after the king, but the watchers stood in position once more in hopes to stall a little longer.

"You... YOU ARE NEVER GETTING TO HIM!"

At this mere comment, the beast only formed an evil grin on its face. This only made Caramel Arrow cookie angrier and shot at the beast. Only to be flung into a fall once more. Knocking the cookie unconscious.

Meanwhile, in the throne room, Dark Cacao cookie regained consciousness and tried to stand. Groaning in pain as he tried to regain his vision. Desperately looking for his sword. Only to find it on the other side of the room, near the entrance.

"I must... retrieve... my sword..." He said while trying to walk, but tripping with only a few steps.

He stood up once more and slowly made his way to the entrance. Once he picked it up, a vicious growl caught his ear.

"He is near... I must not let him get the soul jam..."

He crouched down onto his knees and quietly listened for the beast. The scent of dark chocolate and burnt dough caught his nose. The growl became louder, and the sound of roaring flames became more evident with every step. Making Dark Cacao cookie ready his sword for battle. Suddenly, the growl stopped, but the scent was incredibly strong. He was right outside the door...

'C'mon now...' Dark Cacao thought 'come in here... if you dare...'

The doors swung open and crashed into the walls. Leaving Dark Cacao cookie completely exposed as the beast stood right in front of him.

"GO ON NOW! I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU, BOY!"

With that, Dark Cacao cookie charged toward the beast, only for the beast to pick him up by the leg and fling him around like he was a ragdoll. Throwing him into the nearby walls and floors, the king cried out in pain. Dropping him as if he was nothing but a feather. The king struggled to stand as he held out his sword.

"You... will NEVER... defeat me!" he shouted, jumping into the air to strike. Only for the beast to grab his very blade and throw it into the wall. While picking him up once again and throwing him into the throne.

The soul jam's light began to dim, as Dark Cacao cookie struggled for air. Cracks began to form as crumbs started to fall. Every passing second he knew his end was drawing closer, as the monster stood over him. Ready to give the final blow.

"W-why....?" the king coughed as strawberry jam clogged his mouth.

The beast stood down as another bright red aura began to form. A figure of the prince from a lost kingdom stood before him. His hair was cut short, a bandage covered his eye, and his armor in white but severely damaged, with a red wound covering the symbol embedded on his chest.  

"You should know why... Did you really think this was all for a precious trinket, embedded on a useless blade...? Open your eyes, foolish old man... They wanted the soul jam... while I only wanted you... to suffer..." he chuckled maliciously.

"After all... you only have yourself to blame..."  

The figure pointed his blade at his father's heart.

"Any final wishes...?"

"I'm... sorry..."

"What?"

"You are... right... Dark Choco cookie... I only have myself... to blame... for what has happened to you... I remember... as if it were yesterday... I held you in my arms... for the very first time... and the millennia-old ridges... the ancient trees.... the wolves... and all of the warriors... chanted their blessings..."

"..."

"And we stood... together... atop the great wall... overlooking our entire kingdom... holding your tiny hand.... I promised myself... to raise a strong... just.... and kind warrior.."

"..."

"It's as clear as day now... my life's greatest regret... is that I never gave you enough... love..."

"OH, WOULD YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH?! You can't just make everything better by saying some stupid SPEECH! All of that is easy for you to say! 'MiStAkEs MaKe YoU sTrOnGeR! yOu'Ll ChAnGe FoR tHe BetTeR!' When I made mistakes, I changed for the worst!!" The figure screamed as he began to punch his father.  

"I was just never good enough! Just NEVER good enough for your approval but now.... now... I'M NOT GOOD AT ALL!!"

The fallen prince fell to his knees, still punching his father, but his punches only grew softer as tears began to form in his eyes.

"T-that's hilarious... right...? Well, at least you found me somewhat of a challenge... You actually... l-loved me... didn't you...?"

The figure began to fade away as the beast began to struggle to keep together. Dark Cacao cookie saw his chance, but seeing his son in so much pain only brought him to a different strategy. He began to approach the beast as the beast only scooted away.

"Shh... shh... it's alright... I will hurt you no longer.." He calmly said as he opened his arms.

The beast only shook in fear as the king only came closer. Cornering himself into a wall, leaving Dark Cacao cookie to seize the opportunity. He drew closer and climbed up to the beast's face. Putting his hand on its forehead and rubbed it gently.

"I may not be a healer... but..." Before he could finish his sentence, the king gently kissed the beast's forehead. Only a few moments later, the beast began to break down. All of the pain and anger that he held onto for so long turned into tears, washing away into a drain.

"Shh... shh... I know... I know... let it out..."

The more the beast cried, the more it faded away. Then it soon revealed Dark Choco cookie once more, in his father's arms. Bawling his eyes out as Dark Cacao cookie rubbed his back and sang him a lullaby.

"I missed you... father..."

"I missed you too..."

[the-robot-bracket]

TOM propaganda:

"He's voiced by Steve Blum, he likes anime and he respects women."

"The coolest robot you'll ever meet once a week. No really. Toonami is program block that usually hosts anime but is for action cartoons in general and is on Adult Swim ever Saturday night/Sunday morning (12am-usually 3 or 4am). Anyway, here's some stuff about him specifically. He's voiced by Steve Blum doing his Spike Spiegal voice but was originally voiced by Sonny Strait. And the reason for more than one voice actor isn't just 'they decided to change his voice'. No, they gave that decision its own lore. See, T.O.M. has several different incarnations (there are T.O.M.s 1-6) that usually come to be when the current incarnation gets killed during one of the stories they show that provide said lore. He went from voiced by Sonny Strait as T.O.M. 1 pre-The Intruder, the first of these stories, to voiced by Steve Blum as T.O.M. 2-current.

Some examples of these stories have been: blob/slime like monster invades his ship and essentially eats him, his ship gets stuck in a tractor beam of a trash compactor ship that's running on pure autopilot, a sentient computer virus infects his ship (along with its AI and his best friend) so he jacks into the mainframe to fight it, that same blob/slime monster comes back years later but intelligent after his first body was properly assimilated into it, planet he and his AI friend are stranded on is threatening to implode onto itself and they have to find a way off before they go with it, the new ship they got during the last adventure gets zapped by alien lighting (? idk it was a nebulous storm that acted almost virus like) and there's time travel shenanigans involved and everyone is traumatized a bit, their ship gets hacked and forced to come the space station where robots that look just like T.O.M. are being made as...basically slave labor bots and he has to work to shut the place down and free them. They also get incredibly traumatized in that one too, but because of how little story there's been since then you wouldn't be able to tell by first glance.

Anyway, he also looks cool, with his third incarnation being the fan favorite for having a shape that looks like it has muscles? IDK man. He usually just has a 'visor' for a face, taking place where a human's facial features would go...except for one time he had both eyes and mouth which fans didn't like. I don't mind that incarnation though cuz I grew up with him. Plus, through means we still don't have the full answer to, that incarnation has actually been revealed to be like a twin/clone of the aforementioned T.O.M. 3. Like they have the same memories up until their 'birth' and stuff. For his current body (and honestly my favorite cuz he looks cool :)) T.O.M. 6, he has a cool feature with his visor in which projected images can be shown through, like when they had him wearing a digital costume during Halloween two years in a row that had a flaming jack o' lantern on it.

Personality wise- he's sardonic and cool, but actually also a big nerd. He's also a very loyal friend. If you were his best friend and got corrupted by evil, he'd try literally everything before taking action against you (like he did in aforementioned story about time travel). This loyalty could also be a bad thing as sometimes he puts his loved ones' needs over his own, letting himself get sacrificed so the others can get to safety. He's also an avid gamer. One who canonically raged quit Dark Souls and threw a game out the airlock cuz he couldn't get past one of the levels no matter how many times he tried.

A karaoke program insulted his singing during one of the stories and for years fans (or at least I was) were convinced because of this that he couldn't sing until an intro for the block like last year where he sang like five seconds of a sea shanty and it sounded pretty good.

Uhhh what else... IDK man I just really like him... I love this traumatized weeb robot in space and hopefully this all was a good reasoning as to why. He's so cool. Look up 'Toonami Total Immersion Events' if you can, those are the stories I mentioned."