#also that's not really their original body but that's another can of worms

[halichor]

He who defies fate and incurs death's scorn.

✦ Hael goes by he/she/they ✦

[waeirfaahl]

The issue with Moro's wound

Although "Princess Mononoke" is one of my all time favourite animated films, since deep childhood I couldn't understand the one certain aspect. Why Moro was afraid that the Forest Spirit will take away her life instead of healing? And why would the Forest Spirit take her life away instead of healing?

This question bothered me many years not only because Moro is my favourite character in the film (and Adagio of Life and Death sequence still gives me goosebumps even after many years), but also because the movie doesn't give proper explanation, why she is ready to accept her fate and to die. So, despite her hatred toward humans, Moro still saw in Ashitaka the worthy one, who can and will care about San. The theories like "Moro is too old already, what's the point to prolong the life of old suffering animal?" are very weird, if you realize that Moro is 300-year-old wolf goddess. At least, the official artbook states exactly this age.

While Okkoto is 500-year-old boar god.

He is twice older than Moro, so what's the deal? Especially, if Okkoto himself was sure that the Forest Spirit will heal him after really deadly wounds and serious blood loss (not to mention, how the Forest Spirit saved Ashitaka, who already was almost dead).

The poisoned bullet could be removed from Moro's chest, and if San is less experienced in it (I guess), Ashitaka could help her for sure. I doubt that the bullet broke into several fragments, which are stuck in the bones and are located next to the internal organs. Probably it stuck in layers of skin and muscles. So, technically the removing of this bullet and then sewing up the wound are possible. Especially if to remember that Moro got this wound like a day ago or even only couple of hours ago.

So, most likely there's no threat of sepsis, for example. Again, the Forest Spirit saved Ashitaka, who was almost dead due to the bullet wound in the heart.

Near the end of the film the Forest spirit saved and healed both Ashitaka and San from the hatred curse they got during confrontation with demonic Okkoto and Nago earlier.

And if to look closer, you can notice that the deadly blood/body of the decapitated Forest Spirit is very similar to the snake-like worms that were inside of the demonic boars and spreaded the curse, as well as the liquid around the Forest Spirit's head either accelerated the spread of demonic poison through the body or it added another curse itself. And only after the head was returned, the Spirit healed both Ashitaka and San.

Hence the versions like "Moro confronted Okkoto, trying to save San, so she got Okkoto's hatred curse and will become the demon herself or will die, devoured by the curse, so that's why she can not be healed" also are not valid.

I can only assume that Okkoto couldn't be healed, because he fully transformed into the demon and lost his self irrevocably, so the only way was to give him rest in peace. Plus, mentioning Nago, he kinda hinted that becoming the demon is also some kind of tragedy for entire tribe and the one, who became the demon, is lost forever for his family/tribe (in pretty similar way Ashitaka became lost and dead for his tribe after Nago cursed him during confrontation). And the cherry on the top of a cake — according to early sketches, originally the Forest Spirit actually helped to San and her wolf brothers, healing Moro from the poisoned bullet.

He can do this easily, he is the patron of the forest. So, why on Earth would he refuse to heal and save the wolf goddess, who is not only the wise and useful ally, fighter and guardian, who protected him, the forest and its habitants for many centuries, but also she is mother with the three children, who are not adult for now and hence less experienced?

Maybe there was some allegory for cultural aspects of Feudal Japan or symbolism for warrior-emperor relationships (you know, the idea of "I exist only to serve and to protect my king and kingdom to my last breath, it is forbidden to ask my king for help" or whatever, and the line "She is the daughter of the wolf tribe, when the forest dies, so dies she" kinda gives impression of it), but looking at acts of the Forest Spirit near the end of the film, I don't think so. There was a chance to heal Moro at least from the poisoned bullet.

[olives-and-sunshine]

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 725

Summary: While high, you ask Eddie if he would still love you if you were a worm.

Warnings and Content: Tooth-rotting fluff and silliness, mentions of both Eddie and the reader being high, GN!Reader, relationship is fairly ambiguous and could be read as anything (platonic, queerplatonic, romantic)

A/N: This was written in the middle of the night and originally was about my OC and Eddie, who are in a queerplatonic relationship (which I also posted, if you wanna read it click here ). Hope that explains this.

You were lying on Eddie’s bed, staring at the ceiling. The room vibrated with the noise of Judas Priest playing through the speakers of his cassette player. Eddie was laying his head on your stomach, his eyes closed as he hummed along. You played with his hair as you closed your eyes. Judas Priest was interesting music to listen to when high, and you were fairly high. You both were, although Eddie was higher than you were. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Eddie stayed silent for a minute before bursting out laughing. “What?”

You tried to not laugh, but you eventually caved, joining him. “You heard me. Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You asked between giggles.

He got up off your stomach and turned so he could look at you, leaning over you. His eyes scanned your face. “Who says I love you?”

You gently shoved him with her foot in the stomach. “Dick.”

He dramatically fell back, sprawling over the bed. He laid there for a second before he broke out in giggles again. He got back up, leaning over you again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it,” he whined, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You jokingly pouted and looked away. In response, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “You’re high as shit,” he started giggling again. When you looked back over and your eyes met, so did you.

Midst their fit of giggles, breathlessly he said, “But of course, I’d still love you if you were a worm. What kind of fucking question is that?” You laughed harder, but he continued. “That being said, we all know you’d be something more metal like a cicada, or a mean beetle. Or ooo, something that bites.”

“Hey, I don’t bite!”

“The bite marks that currently litter my body beg to differ.”

“...Okay that’s fair, but worms are hella metal! Some are both male and female and can impregnate themselves. And they decompose things! Nothing is more metal than composure and death.”

“You have a good point. But still. So you would be a decomposer, you’d still be a beetle or something. My point is…” he trailed off for a second, poking you in the cheek. You grabbed his finger and interlocked your hands, letting them settle on your stomach. “I’d love you no matter what creepy crawly bug or creature you were. I’d go to the library, research what you’d need to thrive, and then put you in a little enclosure I made for you. I’d feed you whatever you’d want, even if that means catching other tinier bugs for you. And I’d take you out occasionally so you could get sunshine. And if you were really unhappy, I’d let you be free to live out your little bug life, so you can go fuck another bug, have kids, and go decompose things, and continue the cycle of life. If not, you could just live here with me, in your little bug enclosure.”

Eddie was staring out the window as he said all this, but you just stared up at him, in awe at the way he turned a silly joke into the sweetest monologue ever. You sat up and tackled him into a hug, knocking you both over on the bed, till you were on top of him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head, “What?”

You pulled away to look at him. “That was the sweetest, cheesiest, monologue I’ve ever heard about me or bugs. You’re the best.”

“Of course, sweetheart. And, if we were both bugs, no matter the type of bug we were, even if we were different bugs, we’d live together in bug harmony. We’d find a way.”

“Dawwww, how sweet. We could live out our little bug lives together and decompose stuff. How adorable of us.”

“Of course. We’re the most adorable duo ever,” he pulled you close to him, your head resting on his chest. He kissed the crown of your head again, and you both closed your eyes, just resting and enjoying each other’s presence. “We should probably move at some point, though. We are lying on my bed diagonally.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest, sighing contently. “Shhhh later. I’m comfy.”

[devilfic]

I just arrived after finding your delicious drabbled about Miquel where he ends up spareing with the reader and i-

I'm here looking directly at it 👀👀👀 it was soooo good and it's giving me huge brain worms!

Do you mind a small request? Somethkng along those same lines but reader and him end up facing an anomaly/enemy too dangerous that among has Reader killed, and that is where flight of right kicks in, and they are the one to bite the villain

And bam turns out they also have venom but... a more deadly kind of venom, and they never used it or told anybody because it happened something badnin their original world and had to hide it not to end up in danger

I see the vision, but walk with me

❝things we do❞

plot: you lost your husband in another universe. you wouldn't make that mistake again... even if it meant betraying the promise you made to yourself. pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader. cw: kinda dark!miguel, slightly ooc miguel, angst, established relationship, major character death (in alternate universe), takes place before atsv, dubious morals, murder, miguel brings a sort of "killing is ok under certain circumstances" vibe to the spider society that the spider society don't really like, happy ending? you decide. words: 2.4k.

The weight on his chest is unbearable, stronger than anything he's ever handled before, and he hasn't felt this kind of fear in a while. He's staring at the mauling dog of a villain that he's barely holding back and thinking that this might be it. The other Spiders are busy fighting off its minions, he's lost too much blood, and this thing—in its animalistic haze that has rendered its humanity an unwilling witness—wants him dead. And you, somewhere across the room... he won't even get to say goodbye. There'll be nothing left of him to do so.

His arm is broken, pinned under one massive paw, and the other is stuck between the gnashing teeth of his soon-to-be killer. The suit is breaking. He can hear Lyla's voice distort. She's calling out to him, begging him to get up.

Miguel looks into the violet eyes of the anomaly whose gigantic canines Miguel's fangs could be no match for. He's going to die alone. He'd bother to sob if the effort to do so wouldn't kill him first. He shuts his eyes when his arm slackens a little, struggling to hold the monster back, and lets himself make peace with it. Whatever there is beyond this, he hopes his little girl will be there.

He feels the drip of the monster's hot drool on his face and awaits death like a gift, but nothing happens.

Well, something happens, but not to him. He feels the spray of something hotter on his eyelids, so hot it's almost boiling, and then the weight of his killer swaying one way and another, no longer able to keep his arm in its grip. Miguel opens an eye.

He doesn't know what he's expecting, but it isn't you. You're hanging off the anomaly's back with your face buried in its furry throat. He wonders what you could possibly be doing to it to make it whine for death the way it does. It almost hurts him to hear it.

The anomaly falls to its side, frozen from head to toe as if it had died from shock, and for a moment Miguel thinks that it had crushed you underneath its massive weight. He hasn't any strength left but he feels himself struggling to cry out your name, pushing against the gashes in his torso to try and crawl toward you.

He's on his side and panting when he sees you crawl over the beast and land beside him. Faintly, he's sure he hears your voice asking if he's alright, but his attention catches on red and white.

Gleaming, sharp, white fangs protruding from your mouth and dripping with the anomaly's blood. He's so stunned that he feels his own body seize up too.

He's known you. He's known you inside and out and over and over since you'd fallen into his universe, and he's never seen those.

You touch a hand to your mouth and freeze, and in but a second the fangs are gone as if they were never there. The blood of the anomaly you'd slain continues to dribble down the sides of your lips, though. It waterfalls down your chin, down your neck, down to the ring that hangs there—staining the gold band red. A reminder that it wasn't a trick of the light, what he'd seen. You'd bitten it.

In his position, he could see right into the anomaly's dead eyes. What was once a radiant violet had dulled, become lifeless. It stared back at him in horror. It hadn't expected to die. It hadn't had a chance to put up a fight.

Just what were you?

When Miguel comes to, he comes to violently.

The first thing he senses is the searing pain throughout his body. Every part of him is aching, begging for relief or numbness or amputation. He's never been beaten down this bad. The second thing he senses is the body beside him, propped up in a chair next to what he realizes is a hospital bed. He's... in the infirmary.

Jessica sits upright, her hand grasping for Miguel's but he pulls it away to free himself of the sheets his legs are tangled in. He knows he sounds frenzied and a bit slurred from sleep, but he's certain Jessica hears him asking where you are.

"Hey, whoa, sit back down," and Miguel doesn't have much choice against the full strength of her hand pushing against his chest, "you've been out for a full day. You're in no position to be moving right now."

A day had passed? That unsettled him. He demands to know where you are once more.

Jessica's brows knit together at that. He can tell there's something that's happened, but if there was anything he understood about Jessica Drew, it was that she always picked her words deliberately. Whatever answer she should deliver, she was struggling to.

She joins him on the bed bed, turned away from him, and rests her elbows on her knees. "Lockup."

His blood runs cold. "What?"

"They killed an anomaly, Miguel. You know the rules."

"It was going to kill me."

Jessica finally looks at him, "It?" Miguel swallows. He feels parched. "Miguel, it was a person. A person who wasn't supposed to end up mutated, let alone dead. We could have subdued them some other way. We could've brought them back to HQ, sent them back to their universe, let their Spider handle a cure-"

"Or it could've killed me in the process, which is why-"

"Which is why we've got Spiders working over time to fix the collapse in the wake of their death." Jessica sounds exhausted, and for the first time since waking, Miguel realizes that her marred skin is visible underneath the tears in her suit. "Look, the others don't know yet. They think it was a freak accident. And I'm glad you're alive. Over-fucking-joyed. But your partner... they messed up. Big time. Had it been anyone else, would you be reacting like this?"

Miguel says nothing. He knows the answer, and he's too tired to pretend he doesn't.

Then, the last thing he remembered hovers over his mind's better concerns. He wasn't sure how much Jessica (or anyone) even knew about how you killed the anomaly. You'd kept it from him and he was your lover. He knew everything about you.

Except this. "I want to see them."

"What did I just say?"

"Jessica, I don't care—I need to see them. Please."

"...That doesn't matter. I don't think they want to see you."

Miguel stills. He doesn't even feel the pain anymore, "What?"

"You think any of us were itching to throw them into lockup with you on death's door? They did it to themselves, and they won't talk to anyone. They just keep begging to be sent back to their universe."

Your universe. The universe you dreaded returning to. The universe where you lost your uncle and your aunt and your friends and your husband. He'd never been because you'd asked him never to come. And now you were begging to go back?

The heart monitor beside his bed starts picking up and Jessica places a hand over his. This time, he can't be bothered to pull away, "But maybe," she starts, like she's pushing through a bad idea, "maybe they'll talk to you."

It's hard getting into lockup with thousands of eyes on him, but most Spiders have enough sense to keep their distance. With Jessica clinging to his side and his hand guiding his IV pole alongside him, he's given a wide berth.

Some of the villains aren't so polite, and by the time he's reached your anomaly prison, his blood pressure has spiked enough to warrant putting him back in bed. Instead, he places a hand against the prismatic cage and speaks your name softly.

You look up and his whole world stops.

It's clear you've been crying, but worse than that, you look horrified to see him. You press yourself further away from him, as far as the bench inside will allow you. Your eyes dart to Jessica, "I told you to send me home." You sound betrayed.

"And then what? You can't run from this. Talk it out and see how you feel after." Jessica releases Miguel, giving him but a solemn nod before disappearing off into the main lobby.

"You were going to leave?" Miguel can't help the way his voice cracks. You almost look back at him, then.

It's silent between you for a while. Perhaps you're waiting for him to get frustrated and give up on you, or yell, or bang on the cage until you talk. You avoid his eyes and you keep to your side of the cage, head lowered, fingers trembling in your lap.

Miguel webs a nearby chair to him and takes a seat, "Does anyone else know?"

"No. Just you."

He about sighs in relief when you answer him. "Why did you never tell me?"

You make fists with your hands but they still shake all the same. A beat passes, "Because this isn't the first time I've killed."

Another beat passes. The shock of it is hard to wash down for Miguel. He feels his world teetering on its axis, a breath away from falling and shattering into pieces for the second time in his life. He tries to calm the flurry of thoughts—When? Who? How? Was it justified? Could you justify it to him? Could he justify it to himself, the Society?—and settles on one, "What happened?"

It physically pains you to recall it, and he regrets with everything in him that he had asked you to, "Back in my universe. When I was bitten, I was still learning how everything worked. I wasn't used to being this strong, let alone the venom and I... it was the night my uncle died. I saw the man that did it. And I found him. And I cornered him. And I was so..." You shudder, "I was so angry, Miguel. I wanted to hurt him but a part of me wanted him dead more. And it won."

Miguel and you sit with that. He can almost see it vividly, his own chest swelling with grief for you. For your uncle. For the burden you carry. "And?"

"And I swore I would never do it again. Never. But it... it cost me something, Miguel. And I never told you because I swore I wouldn't do that either. But, clearly, I'm all about breaking promises to myself lately."

Miguel frowns, leaning forward in his chair, wishing he could reach through the amber separating you both and just touch you, "You don't have to tell me. Not if you don't want to."

You finally look him in the eyes and he thinks you're thinking about it. Your mouth drops open anyway, "Remember my husband from that universe? The one I told you I lost because I was just a second too late?" Miguel nods. "I said I thought of every possibility but nothing would work. That was a lie. It wasn't entirely helpless. I could have saved him from that villain. But I would have had to kill to do it, and I just... froze. I just couldn't. And he died because of me."

Your lover shakes his head, warm tears prickling at his waterline, "No, no. No. Don't blame yourself for that. Don't... don't make yourself responsible for that villain's choice."

"But I wanted to, Miguel." You plead, and for the first time since he's sat down, you push yourself closer to him. "I wanted to do it to save him."

Miguel looks around. A nearby anomaly is staring on at the two of you, smirking, twirling a knife in between their spindly fingers. Spiders weave in and out of the room but it's a slow day. No one is around to hear what he says next, what he whispers to comfort you, "You saved my life."

Or what you say back, "I couldn't watch you die again."

It clicks into place. Why you never called your husband by name, why you never wanted him to visit your universe, why you almost walked out of the Spider Society the second you walked in. Why you looked at him, broken and beaten but safe, and recoiled. Why he'd always liked the look of that ring hanging from your neck. Like-

"I would've picked it myself. I can see why he chose it." His finger pokes at the ring with some feeling tugging between jealousy and sympathy. Knowing that it belonged to someone else, that it holds so dear to you even now, and that it was a part of the you that he never got the chance to know. "It's perfect."

You let your head fall to the side and smile into his pillow, "I thought so too."

It's quiet on the top floor. Not even Lyla intervenes. Miguel can't stop himself from asking, "What was he like?"

He half expects you to shut down but you don't. You stare into him, unblinking, somehow here with him and somehow far away, "Brave, kind, dashing in the heroic way and yet he preferred to be behind the scenes. He always supported me. Even before I lost him, he..." You choke up. Miguel's hand finds yours, "...he told me it was okay. That I'd done everything I could do. That he loved me. And that I should love again."

Miguel watches your chest heave with the weight of your confession, but more comes spilling out, "And you know what's funny? You... remind me so much of him. Like his love found me in you."

His mind flashes with images of Gabriella, of the man he'd replaced looking for home, and of the world that fell around him because of it.

And here you were. Telling him that you'd done nearly the exact same thing. Finding him in another universe. Tempting fate.

He should send you back to your universe. That's where you belong. You would have never killed again if it hadn't been for him, and keeping his distance could be the best thing for you.

The anomaly prison falls away. He issues the command to Lyla before he could even register the words leaving his mouth. You watch him in horror as he sits beside you, taking your hands into his own, and kisses your knuckles. His lips stay planted there for a moment, relishing in the feeling of your realness.

It is then that Miguel realizes he cannot bear to let go.

He keeps his head lowered, lips hovering a hair's length from your skin as his eyes lock onto you. You look like you've realized something, like you've been hit with the stunning clarity that you've done something terribly, terribly wrong, "And you won't have to."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @honestlystop @yehet-moi-ohorat

[thagomizersshow]

Content warning: blood, gore, sexual content, sexual assault, parasites and body horror

This is a heavily modified version of an essay I originally wrote for a literary theory class and then turned into a script for a video essay that I never finished. 

Enjoy :)

One of the things that really bothers me about the critical conversation around Alien (1979) is the long-running idea that the alien and its various forms are so enduringly horrifying because they break the sexual/gender binary.

The worst example I can find is this excerpt, from Alien Woman: The Making of Lt. Ripley, by Ximena Gallardo and C. & C. Jason Smith:

The Alien species disregards the sexual difference that is so essential to our definition of what it is to be human. The male body is repositioned to correspond to the female body: the male mouth becomes the vagina, the chest the womb. The dichotomy male/female is broken down, as all humanity is female (a womb) in the face of the alien.

I get that this was published in 2004, but Gender Trouble had already been around for over a decade, so that’s not much of an excuse for weird ass gender essentialism in academia.

Art by AlexanDraxleean ↑

The idea that the xenomorph and its various stages are scary because the gender binary is being broken down is comically disregarded by the simple fact that trans people (like myself) ALSO find the damn thing scary. We are living embodiments of a shattered binary, but we aren’t shitting ourselves over our own existence (usually). I contend that the alien is scary not because of a violation of gender or sexual norms, but because it utilizes a much more widespread and visceral kind of horror: that of the parasite.

Most other animalistic horror monsters rely on the fear of the predator: monster wanna eat you → you run away → get caught → get eated. This is an oversimplification, obviously, and if you want a really good exploration of how the fear of predators effects us, read Val Plumwood’s Eye of the Crocodile. For real, my fav ecophilosophy book.

No, instead of the more straightforward horror presented by the predator, the alien uses the inescapable, cloying, and violating horror of parasites and parasitoids. Where the predator hunts, kills and eats, the parasite clings, defiles and tortures. When the predator catches you, you’re dead. When the parasite catches you, you don’t know what is going to happen. Is it going to bury inside you? Is it going to feed on your body? Is it going to lay eggs in you? You literally don’t know, and that’s what makes them so scary. Hell, they could get inside you without you even knowing. It isn’t just the fear of death, it’s the paranoia of violation AND the fear of the unknown. This makes Alien akin to a Lovecraftian horror in many ways, but instead of the fear of race-mixing or disabled people, it is the fear that whatever you do, wherever you go, there are beings that can enter your body and use it against your will.

Hell, the whole premise of the movie, at least according to the screenwriter, came from the thought “what if ichneumon wasps laid eggs in us instead of in worms?” That basic idea is glossed over constantly in analysis of Alien in favour of more Freudian explanations that rely heavily on antiquated notions of gender essentialism. When early screening audiences were throwing up in their seats in 1979, were they thinking about how “this monster really transgresses gender norms :/” or were they thinking “fuck what if that thing was growing inside me?!?!”

The only time I agree with these old school interpretations is when they view Alien through the lens of sexual assault. The fear of sexual assault and the fear of parasites are fucked up sisters in a way. They are both fears of bodily violation that induce a strong paranoia, and their symbologies easily feed off one another. Sexual imagery (e.g. a penis shaped head with a mouth on the end) combined with parasitic imagery (e.g. a creature grabbing a hold of you and doing unknown things to your body) are both niggling at the part of your brain that is repulsed by internal invasion.

However, I’ve seen arguments that Alien specifically targets fears for cis men being sexually assaulted, and I think that’s a very limited approach to the movie. The idea of a creature latching onto you, ignoring your autonomy, and using you as an incubator is pretty universally scary if you ask me, and I think for most people, that idea connects to a primal and often unaddressed fear of parasites far more than sexual violation. Just look at videos of botfly maggot removals and tell me you don’t get the same yucky feeling as when you watch Alien.

Even for people like me who find these creatures fascinating, I still get that skin crawly feeling when I look at images of them for too long. And it isn’t just a short-lived disgust reaction happening, it’s also that feeling of paranoia that it could be happening to you right this minute. This is all a part of what is called the behavioural immune system, which is the brain’s first line of defense against infection and why most people are grossed out by signs of disease on the body (pus, rashes, body odours, etc.).

We really don’t like thinking about parasites, and it shows across our culture. Deadly predators of all kinds have been worshiped all over the world, but is there anyone in history who paid fealty to the tick? Who invoked the name of the roundworm for strength? Are there cartoons about anthropomorphic scabies and their kingdom of flesh? (If any of these exist and I just don’t know it, please tell me.)

I’m not saying that this is an innate feeling in all of us (the human experience is about as diverse as it gets, and I’m sure some people just don’t have this reaction and never have) but I do think it’s widespread enough and so infrequently felt that when this parasite repulsion is triggered it makes for a horror that is far harder to shake than any socialized fear of gender violation. Far more than any Freudian psychosexual imagery, the horror of the parasite is what I believe has made the xenomorph such an enduring cinematic monster.

I wanna leave this post off with one of my favourite quotes about parasites from Annie Dilliard’s book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:

It is the thorn in the flesh of the world, another sign, if any be needed, that the world is actual and fringed, pierced here and there, and through and through, with the toothed conditions of time and the mysterious, coiled spring of death.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Male Yandere Parasite x Female Wife Reader

Inspired from Tomie, but what if a human scientist decided to genetically alter himself to be able to move from one host to another, taking over their body, and replacing the original host entirely? (Original host is dead, with their body acting as a husk puppet for yandere parasite). Yandere parasite decided to do this to try and achieve immortality so he could be with reader darling (literally) forever. The “only problem” is that he has to convince her now to let him do the same procedure on her so they both can be together forever…

This definitely goes into the body horror genre, so I don’t want you to freak out from potential graphic writing if you’re uncomfortable writing it. Stay in your comfort zone as always! I just thought this’d be a fun take on the “eternal soul mates” trope

Thanks!!! 💝

Yandere! Male! Parasite x Female! Professor! Wife! Reader

💝anon, this tested me ways I don't think is possible. But damn was it enjoyable to write.

For your other requests, I have to reject some ideas ;-; Don't get me wrong, your ideas are fantastic, but the requests reached my quota and I spun the wheel to choose which requests to do TT__TT

Not just 💝's requests too, some of others got rejected also due to again, having reached the quota already huhuhu.

Yandere! Parasite name: Acheron

Immortality. A lot of people want to live forever. Some go through the supernatural route, some religious, and some the scientific route of insanity.

Acheron has always been the weird kid.

A lot of people doesn't understand his genius, and his fixations on parasites didn't really help people understand his unique understanding of the world.

And he, who doesn't really see the importance in human interaction, didn't care to connect with people also.

He's quite cold, always had a perpetual annoyed look in his face, and doesn't smile until he talks about parasites.

He's in his own little world, in his own little space.

Yet, Acheron, despite being an unusual genius in his family, can only be reclused so much until he needs to actually go fight in the real adult world.

After graduating with a parasitology degree, he was lost, and didn't know what to do.

Sure, he could work in labs and study parasites as much as he wants, but working in a lab with other scientists that can be potentially more knowledgeable than him doesn't really sit well.

He's quite arrogant in his own right.

So, setting up a lab in his own home, he started to do experiments by himself.

Nobody to tell him that his experiments are unethical, nobody to tell that he's doing too much, nobody to tell him that "No, Acheron, using people for your parasitic experiments is bad!"

Well, who is the bad person now, huh?

He looked up at the vial in front of him. It was weird, seeing this small parasite wriggle and write letters on the glass with its slime.

The consciousness of the person he kidnapped to experiment on has transferred to this little worm.

And, on the table, is a comatose body who's only alive due to the machinery.

Never mind that the parasite spelled "HELP ME" on the glass, he just continued to place the parasite up the nose of the comatose body.

And, as he got out of the experimentation room and locked it up, he smirked once he saw the body twitch and writhe, and by the two hour mark, the man was slamming the glass walls, demanding to be let go and for him to return to his old body.

Acheron lets out a loud, triumphant, yet cruel laugh.

Consumed by his own ego, pride, and desire for immortality, he finally made the perfect vessel to be immortal himself.

He punched the red button and turned his back on the man, whose coughs and wheezes so as his pleadings turned to quiet murmurs. And, a sound of a falling body was heard.

And that is the story of how the first immortal emerged from a humble, blood filled, homemade lab.

It was the year 20XX, 50 years after the mysterious disappearance of Acheron in his home. It was burned down, but not a body was found.

Well, his body is not found.

Countless bodies were found under his garden, and one was found inside the burnt home. Including his parents.

There is no clear factor on which targets Acheron picked. All of them were at random.

But all of them had one thing in common. Inside of them were some type of parasite that was unknown.

It seems genetically modified, but was too dead or too burnt to be identified properly.

He's known as the parasitic recluse, as he's rarely seen outside of his, well, his parents' home, and that he's a parasitologist.

People theorized on what he did, and why was he experimenting. Did his parents knew about his work? Or are his parents in on it?

It was skin crawling, thinking what Acheron might have done to these people.

It's the start of the new semester in all of educational facilities. In one of the Ivy League Universities, one of the beloved professors in the biology department is walking towards the field to induct the new professors which just got hired.

Young as he may, he smiled at the students and co-personnel passing by him as took his place in one of the chairs.

It's Acheron, who took over the body of a well known parasitology professor in the University. After he passed by the office one day with his previous body, the professor coincidentally got a heart attack and died. So, he transferred bodies and framed it that his previous body was the one who got a heart attack.

It's been three years since then, and he finally got access to a bigger lab, and more knowledge from this body's previous knowledge.

He's thriving immensely. Immersed in work, experiments, and research now that he has all the time in the world. Honestly, this would have been such a heartfelt want if not for the fact that he did horrible experiments to people to gain such power.

Once the speakers played a royalty free music to start the ceremony, Acheron stood tall and scanned the new professors before landing his eyes on a starry eyed woman.

His heart raced a bit as he saw you look at him with such adoration, like he was your idol.

It was... Refreshing. He's never been looked up to like this, even before the ceremony.

After the inauguration, you hopped towards him with a grin. He also had a small smile.

"Sir [redacted]!" You cheerily said, pertaining to the person Acheron is occupying now. "I'm such a big fan of yours! Your researches, and I have a collection of parasites you discovered!"

Acheron chuckled liking your enthusiasm. It feels good to have such a fan like yourself.

"Well, thank you, miss..?"

"Y/N!"

"Y/N..." The way your name rolled off his tongue felt good, but he doesn't know why.

"May I invite you to drink some coffee, sir? I really want to talk to you more..." You shyly said, holding his hand.

He cleared his throat, suddenly shy and hot.

For the first time in his life/ves, he felt attraction, a simple crush wanting to bloom to a bigger thing. It's scary, but his heart yearned for more. After years of being barren, you burrowed yourself into a you-shaped hole in his heart and refused to be let out.

Slowly his fixation got a one up. Other than parasites, he's fixated on you.

Dating him is fun. Although, there are some times he gets a bit too jealous and possessive. He told you he planted some trackers in you, he's confrontational about your other co-workers and even students, and threatened to kill himself if you leave him.

It was extreme that even Acheron is winded by how extreme he is. But does he care? Somehow, but his heart was too much to be dictated.

And you, the blind person you are due to idolization, ignored these red flags and married him only after 6 months of dating.

After marrying, on your 1st year anniversary, he revealed everything.

And I mean, everything.

Acheron fully became comfortable around you.

He's much more lenient now as he studied researches and experimented with parasites.

It was weird, seeing him suddenly become so complacent with you. When he's such a red flag before, now it's almost a complete 180.

Did his insecurities die off..?

Now that you say that, he's really busy these days.

Maybe that's why he doesn't really have time for you anymore?

Somehow, that upset you a lot.

So, you confronted the guy in the laboratory you and him shared.

Opening the door slightly, you poked your head through the opening and saw him experimenting on a worm. The worm wiggled, as if spelling something.

Your heart trembled. Yes, you love Acheron, but sometimes, he does freak you out.

"Acheron? Are you busy?" You whispered, a bit of a sad edge on your voice.

"Hmm?" He looked up at you and grinned. "Love! How are you?"

He took off his gloves and went up to you. Hugging your body against him excitedly.

"What do you need?"

"Um, actu--"

"Well, whatever. Love! I finally remade the parasite!"

Your stomach dropped. Suddenly feeling dread on your stomach.

"P-parasite..?"

"Yes."

He grabbed a vial and showed you a worm suspended in water. It was just calmly wriggling around.

"I want you to inhale this, alright? Don't worry, it will only hurt a bit." He said with a manic grin.

Your heart pounded, your trembling eyes looking at the vial and back to him.

You could see parasites wriggling around in his eyes.

"Come on love, don't worry. It's completely safe!"

He held your shoulders, gripping it strong that you can't even break out of his hold.

You can't run.

You wanted this relationship.

So suffer the consequences.

"We will be together, forever!"

[driftwoodmfb]

I have come to you with a minor Digital Circus theory!

On a Reddit post by U/TinyBreadBigMouth, they gathered all the door pictures you can see during the pilot. I used those images here. The two with black outlines where drawn by me on the two images that where always too blurry to see clearly. I believe the left one is a cat with a bow and the other one might some geometric shaped creature, but I'm not really sure. There is also one more door that is never seen. It could be another abstracted character or just an empty room.

So! The theory is that there always needs be six 'characters' fulfilling one role each. I believe it's puppet, animals, jesters/clowns, geometric/mix matched shapes, maybe odd bodies??, and chess pieces. So when Pomni first showed up, Kaufmo had just abstracted.

With this theory, the original humans all have abstracted.

I put the worms on a string guy under puppet due to those being controlled by a string, like a puppet. Also Ragatha is a ragdoll, but I think that doll puppets is close enough.

For odd body, I mean having an odd item(?) as a body, but not in the sense of weird geometric shapes like Zooble. So Gangle is made out of ribbon and the cyclopes is made of slime or something. I know it's not the most concrete one, but the cyclopes is the only one that doesn't fit any of these and I didn't have any under Gangle and we know that Kinger has been around the longest. At the same time, the last door we can't see could fit under Gangle. There's also a chance that the role that Gangle is under emotion/personality instead of visually.

I would also like to add that, for example, there's been a lot before Jax, but that doesn't mean that Jax is one of the newest. It just mean that many in that role has abstracted, it could have all been in a row even.

—

I picture that Queenie (the confirmed name for the queen chess piece) was the first ever to abstract, making Kinger being the first case of someone new showing up. This would also mean that he has seen every. Other. Person. Become abstracted

[mcskullmun]

My own personal Jmart and Lonelyeyes hc parallels and comparisons (because it’s this or Another fic) Many words under the cut

-Tw abusive relationship

-The Lonely as an allegory for depression

-Non consensual mind reading

*mind reading*

-Jon actively tries to avoid, and in most cases succeeds in avoiding, reading Martin’s mind. It’s a clear boundary in their relationship

-Elias actively attempts to see inside Peter’s head. It’s only Peter’s strong connection to the lonely that keeps him out and in some cases where he burnt out/hurt he just can’t. Big angst potential, Very Unhealthy

-I think Martin doesn’t do the whole ‘I want you to look inside my head and see my true feelings as an act of love’ thing. He trusts Jon to know how true it is when he tells him he loves him. He knows Jon might not believe him with certain things, and that that kind of thing should be up to him, not to Beholding. This (in my opinion) is healthy

-Elias doesn’t trust shit. I hc him as secretly paranoid as hell. The nature of the lonely makes things kinda fuzzy when he tries to Look at them which drives him crazy. And Peter Is manipulative. He Does lie. So it’s almost impossible for either of them to know when the other is being genuine. Again very fun to write, Very Unhealthy. So Peter does open his mind to Elias when he wants him to trust him, and Elias just doesn’t. He has no idea if Peter’s somehow tricked Beholding or is Very Good At Lying or anything- there’s never any certainty

*Compelling*

-As a rule Jon tries his hardest not to compel Martin. Martin tried it once to see if he would be able to read poetry aloud more fluently and Hated it. So yeah never again.

-Elias doesn’t like compelling Peter. He’s more into the observing side of Beholding, so actual confrontation is more difficult. More than that he hates it when Peter resists, but tells him of his own free will anyway. This is one Peter hasn’t asked him not to do, but still actively resists.

*Disappearing*

-Martin will not send Jon into the Lonely. He occasionally disappears himself, but knows Jon will find him no matter what. They’re working on it together.

-Most conflict ends with Peter vanishing into the Lonely. He doesn’t send Elias there because it feels like pushing someone else into your room and slamming the door on them? If that makes sense. It’s his space to torture people he doesn’t deem quite as real as Elias.

*Memory loss*

-As far as I’m aware Martin would not be powerful enough to have this power. If he did I don’t think he’d use it

-Having said that inducing memory loss is tied to domains not Avatars, but I’m giving it to Peter for angst reasons

-Peter doesn’t actually use it on Elias. He sure as hell thinks about it, about starting over and pretending he’s still the original Elias (whole other can of headcannon worms), but he won’t. I think he used it on original Elias for some time to hide the fact he was an avatar/isolate him for his own purposes

*Non Avatar related section*

-Jmart do at home dates. Sure they go out places sometimes but outside is tiring as hell. They prefer reading or cooking together and watching weird documentaries

-Lonelyeyes don’t really do dates. Their idea of a bonding moment is burying a body in the woods and not speaking again for months

-Both Jon and Martin have rocky relationships with birthdays so they both try so hard to make them the best they possibly can be

-Elias is fucking ancient and Peter hates interaction, these guys don’t do birthdays

*end*

Sorry for having an obvious Lonelyeyes bias but Peter and Elias have a fucking vice grip on my mind (it’s the whole Jonah/Original Elias being not quite two different people in Peter’s eyes) (And also the voice)

[2n2n]

ch. 110

brutality, no survivors.... incredible suffering for the girlies (you, me, JP twitter)

and here I thought shenanigans would continue... this promo image was an immediate punch at 6AM

and yet this was all things considered the easy part...? ugh, but... please a moment to drink it in... all of my beliefs in the true power exchange... it's so satisfying to see it like this. it's easy, simple to still Tsukasa, isn't it... towering, presiding older brother.... his joudai trailing... touch your seal... the virtue by which you are kept safe, kept his. Poor Tsukasa. covetous object...!

a rascal....! uhh I love pocket-sanding Akane with old man parts ... amazing technique ahaha, Tsukasa knows how to make people lose focus huh? he's in such a good mood isn't he~ not as resentful as he was towards Mirai pestering him...

mirai explode lol.... I can't say I feel much personally, I guessed she might do this ... it's sweet of her to protect Akane, but I can't think much of it, beyond what it contributes to how we should feel about her. Noble rat after all? not so dumb as Akane had said before?

Mirai holding the yorishiro makes sense, for why she's typically locked in their boundary without any freedom. sure... easy. another key to haunt us! more keys why NOT

I like to see Natsuhiko being cool like this ... ♥

but this is so interesting...

I'm never sure how much Mitsuba really understood about the Broadcast club's greater plans... I wonder if Natsuhiko is being literal here, and Mitsuba DID know what he had to do, but had settled on his suicidal ennui.... ah, having to analyze your life for something precious is grim... he has an issue of not appreciating what he has while he has it, and being unable to state it...

.... and there's nobody to correct him. This is such a manga about... 'reasons'....

among the things even possible.. that poor keychain was destroyed. I wonder if there were a few things going on in Mitsuba's mind even then...

I really like... that mysteries, kaii need something anchoring them... I like that it's not enough, to exist... I like that the body naturally dilapidates, 'wants' to move on or become something else. It's a great metaphor....! In this manga... the most important thing, is loving something. If you don't love something, you can't stay alive. You won't....

I'm still wondering if the original thing Kou gave Mitsuba back in vol. 7 will ever come back around... or if it just gave him a complex or curiosity about the 'old' Mitsuba (who he snoops on in PP after this, so....) ... and can't itself be precious so much as worming...

anyhow... I like this turn of events, but it is so shocking we're stacking handling No. 3 and also No. 1!!!! I can't believe it!!!! IT'S ALL HAPPENINGGGG?????!?!? We haven't stacked mysteries like this before ~~!!!! It's so exciting.... I like Natsuhiko a lot in all of this ♥ I don't know... like with Tsukasa and Mitsuba, I believe him that he found it all charming in its own way, and that he wanted to offer what he could to Mitsuba for the timebeing. It's not as if there are other options, here... Mitsuba... really was never doing the things that needed to be done.... or letting others know what he needed to do.

I suppose Natsuhiko could wake up Kou to watch this if he wanted, but I find it much funnier if Kou just has to wake up at the end of this and Mitsuba is eradicated... lol...

can't say I really understand Teru's position about the mysteries...

you understand the mysteries are a kind of structural pillar for this region, but the pressure that was weighing on Hanako at least seemed to be the Minamoto ... it was that imperative the Broadcast Club's been taking advantage of. The rumors created an excuse to justify the sense of mistrust in the mysteries. But I'll never quite know what Teru is even capable of ... since he shouldn't be able to touch yorishiro ... but directly threatens to exorcize mysteries. Can you have extant yorishiro without the mysteries utilizing them.... ??? Well, I just don't understand it yet.... must put it aside.

back to what really matters...

I love how peaceful, relieved, serene he looks here.... finally, you've been so patient, Tsukasa... every little step of this has taken so long.... holding the last yorishiro in your hands... trusting Amane to handle you, after... it must feel good. The end in sight....

I really love this reach for Amane's knife...

back in this position, are we?

ah.... poor Amane. For a moment... I appreciate what he's trying to do, here. He sounds patient... he sounds like an older brother. Explaining so cleanly...

you want to be sure Tsukasa understands... maybe you think-- he hasn't thought this through, or he doesn't get the consequences, he's being childish, or reckless, maybe he's misunderstood how it happened before ... I love to hear Amane, say something so direct as... won't see you again.... won't be able to save you ... everything he did last time! to ensure... that you wouldn't be apart! the binding of their souls! tying Tsukasa down to him like a ship in a storm! protection, mooring... keeping you, where he can see you! remaining together, at all costs! that's important to you too, right, Tsukasa? don't you want to see each other?

it's as if you're saying you don't want to be together, don't want to be saved... what do we do with people who don't ask you to save them? why must they insist on leaving you behind?

Mitsuba won't ask Kou to save him. Sumire wouldn't ask Hakubo to save her. Aoi didn't want Akane to save her. I wonder if Tsukasa didn't ask Amane to save him, but Amane did it anyway... her certainly wasn't asking for a hero in the Red House, or to live on coming back.

it's a kind of rejection, isn't it? When someone is so ambivalent about the life you love so much... the life you want with them... it's as if they're saying, "I don't want to be with you enough to live for you."

Of course, every time, they're really saying ... "I just don't know what I mean to you." Mitsuba doesn't feel valuable to Kou; only a replacement, a reminder of something he once cared about. Best to give up. Sumire imagined Hakubo was only placating her, and could only wish not for his earnest sadness, but for him to pretend to be sad for her. Best to let death happen. and Aoi didn't feel Akane knew the real her, imagined he would reject the real Aoi, only in love with his grand projection of her. Best to step away now.

Of course, Tsukasa thought his brother hated him, so...

It all feels so simple and logical! It's saving trouble, right?

Amane made such a gesture last time... in their shinjuu... he tried, he really tried, to say something ... to Tsukasa.

but, the message didn't go through...

but I can only be so sympathetic to Amane, as he's an incredible hypocrite. Of course, Amane has put Nene-chan through everything Tsukasa puts him through.

You also try to grant your beloved a wish for a future that explicitly doesn't involve you, and make her feel rejected, abandoned, given no choice...

Amane...

oh, Yugi twins....

.... why can't you understand when you're precious? Why can't you understand how bad it hurts, to abandon somebody? Amane-chan really suffered without you, Tsukasa. You're always the one leaving him, and getting to feel sacrificial about it. He's trying to tie you down....

.... it's a natural response... to lash out. Rejected... misunderstood... abandoned... why is Tsukasa asking you to give up on him? Why can't he understand, even with that seal on his cheek... even as you died with him....

兄の思いは届かず…

I really love that for the chapter's end.

Amane's feelings never did reach Tsukasa. It wasn't understood, what he had tried to do, his sadness now. But... Amaneeeee....

maybe you could use a taste of your own medicine....

we think we know just how to make someone else's wish come true, don't we?

isn't it such an insult! WHY!!!!!! """"WHY""""""??????

..... I'm out of images, so I'll continue in a reblog, for a couple more thoughts I'm having ....

but for this post... ahhhh. It's unbelievable we're at least starting to tackle... this. I feel bad for Amane, I really do... I feel bad for Tsukasa, too. It's hard to not hurt someone you love ... in an attempt to only hurt yourself. If we hurt ourselves, we hurt the thing our lover adores ... we spit on their love for us.

I can understand why and how Amane can say "I hate you" ... to Tsukasa. As much as Akane could childishly say it to Aoi ... and you know, it is that same unimaginable love which makes it possible. Years of familiarity, it makes you more liable to lash out. There is such a greater sense of betrayal, when you've expended so much effort... when you try so hard for someone... when you're in so much pain about them....! After all I've done... you CAN'T say this or that to me.... etc, etc! Those intense emotions... can make you feel entitled, to never be hurt... you can't hurt me, after all I've hurt for you!

and I do think it's being said extremely childishly... daikirai... he's just, unable to be any more constructive with his feelings, he's so... hurt, mad. As much as Nene-chan is so mad, hearing Hanako spit on all of her efforts she made to reach him... BIG SLAP!!!

Amane, he's maybe endured 50 years of effort and an awful lot of physical suffering for Tsukasa, and it's not gotten through... wwww! I'm sorry, I'm worried Tsukasa might have a PROFOUND amount of suicidal urge. Might be an uphill battle, Amane... you might just need to save Tsukasa because you are selfish, and you want him for yourself. There might be no easier reason ... to keep him by your side. We can't make Tsukasa beg to stay with you... but you won't beg him to stay, will you? I think that would actually do a lot of good, Amane... but you really won't do that....

meanwhile, I love the juxtaposition of Nene-chan's incredibly childish DAI DAI DAISUKIII and this daikirai lol... we all have big feelings don't we lol....! well...

[imarvelatthestars]

Essence

Pairings: Clone Veteran (from Kenobi) Tai x f!Reader

Warnings: hoooo boy, there's some spice at the end of this one, but also some hurt/comfort feelings mixed in! oral (m receiving) and lots of dirty talk, hint of voyeurism and possible dom/sub vibes?

Notes: I really loved this chapter and I had fun playing around with their dynamic again. As for the filthy part, I don't have much real world experience with this particular act, so I hope it came out okay 💀

[previous chapter]

The marshal is wicked clever. She’s arranges for a tent for the two of you to share until morning, which isn’t far away but at least you’ll be able to get some rest before journeying back to town, and she spends the rest of the night making peace and special arrangements with the Tuskens.

Tuskens. Not Sand People. They are the stewards of the planet, according to Tilelli, the original people who cultivated the land and grew into a civilization. Not monsters, not a people to be feared but simply to be respected. And several nearby tribes all have peace with Mos Nefta thanks to her, this happened to be a desperate time and a special case of drought that has prevented their usual water sources from manifesting this season. The tribe is sick. That’s why they stole, that’s why Tai was endangered and Nej was injured. Not because of savage bloodlust, but because of desperate fear. You can understand this, but you’re still wary of them.

You do appreciate the tent, though. There are blankets and robes, and the walls of the tent are substantial enough to keep yours and Tai’s body heat in. It’s the first time in well over a week that you’ve both been able to be alone, although it feels like so much longer, and you’ve managed to worm yourself under his clothes and against his skin, a whisper of normalcy in the chaos that has become your life of late.

“Missed you,” you whisper into his sternum. It’s punctuated with a feather-light kiss to his skin.

His voice rumbles deep in his chest. “I’m here now, my love.”

There’s so much you want to say and it’s been weighing on you for a while now, but this doesn’t feel like the time or place to say it. You’re hesitant to shatter the beauty of the moment, to say anything that would even slightly push him away. You need him pressed against the entire length of you because you need to know for certain that he’s here with you.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

You can feel his smile against the top of your head. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, mesh’la.”

Another kiss to his chest, this one somewhere above his heart. “What’s that mean?”

“Beautiful.”

Oh, you like that. You gift him with another kiss in response, slightly higher than the last and more prolonged. The tent is too dark to make out his face, but that doesn’t matter. You have his face committed to memory already. “Should use that on you sometime, old man.”

“That’s the wrong word,” he chuckles. “Not meant for the likes of me.”

“Shut up.” Your fingers map out the approximate shape of his cheek and then lightly swat him there. “You’re beautiful to me. Your eyes, your smile.” Are you imagining it or is your chest literally aching with love for him? “I love the way your cheeks dimple. I love you, the way you smell.” Your nose drags up his chest to his neck where you bury yourself in him. Warm and sturdy. Safe. Home. “Mesh’la.” The word is strange on your tongue, but you love the way it sounds.

The dunes are quiet and the Tuskens have mellowed into assorted snoring patterns. You think you catch a hint of Tilelli’s voice at one point, but it’s too faint to be sure.

“You were brave today.”

And it makes you laugh because you felt anything but. “Well, you didn’t see me before. I wasn’t so brave then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “You’ve been brave for so many days. Too many.” He prompts your head back so he can kiss you properly. “I’m proud of you.”

Don’t be, you could say. Or, it was nothing. Let’s talk about something different. You could say a dozen different things to dismiss him in the wake of your embarrassment, and you almost do, but ultimately you don’t. It’s been a lot and you’ve had no choice but to be brave or lose him. So you accept the compliment for what it is.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t ever do it again, though,” and you’re sure he’s only half serious. “Scared the life out of me, girl.”

“You scared me. I was worried sick!” Skin meets skin as you slap your hand on his chest and push. “Maybe if you weren’t getting yourself into trouble all the time.”

He’s as quiet as the desert then, and it hits you that he’s taken your light-hearted barb as something infinitely more serious than first intended. Your hands find his face and you swear you can just the glinting of light in his eyes if you tilt your head just so.

“Not like that, Tai. Honey, no. Don’t… don’t do that.”

“You’re right, though,” he says after a moment. “This is all my fault.”

No no no no no no no, how can he even think that? Is he serious? Everything that’s happened and he’s blaming himself? You start to protest it because how could you possibly continue to let him blame himself for things beyond his control when he shushes you, runs his hands over your shoulders to calm you, a cue to wait. So you do.

The rough edges of his accent have become guttural after this pause, and the evidence of his guilt is there in the way his voice cracks and drops at the end. “I don’t deserve you. Never have. I’ve tried, but I’ll always be a soldier.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. I’ve killed people.”

The time before the Empire’s rise is hazy at best. The history holos tell one story and those who actually lived say nothing at all, but you have glimpses of memories that don’t match the propaganda you’ve been fed. You know there were Jedi once, a great and powerful race of magicians, but you’d never known much about them before they were wiped out. You know the clones were an army that served at the Jedi’s side, and you know that they helped to quell their rebellion. You don’t understand the politics of it, you weren’t paying that much attention. You were too busy trying to stay afloat in Daiyu’s constant waves of crime and chaos.

You’ve never pressed him for it. What happened in the past is just that – it’s over and done with. You love him for who he is now and for the joy he’s brought to your life. But ever since that night, it’s become more and more obvious that his past still seeps into his present and yours.

You swallow. “I know. It comes with the job. I, I don’t hate you for that, Tai. You know that, right?” He shifts beneath you and you can feel his agitation bubbling up on his tongue, eager to spill out and pin everything on his own shoulders, and you’re not letting that happen. “Stop. I don’t care what you did in the past, it doesn’t define you. I don’t define you by what you were. You’re not a killer to me, you’re not some homeless guy on the streets to me. You’re my person. I’d give up everything for you, okay? I did. And I don’t regret it. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have done what I did, I shouldn’t have put my hands on that trooper, but I did. I… I saw them hurt you and, I don’t know, I snapped. We’re here because of me and it kills me every day.”

This wasn’t how you wanted the night to go. You wanted to bask in his presence, bathe in his warmth for a handful of moments before reality came crashing back in and you had to return to Ilo’s front room, to that stupid bar and its stupid patrons. You wanted to pretend for a single second that things were quasi-normal. How foolish you’d been to think that reality wouldn’t force its way back into your little fantasy.

Everything is suddenly too hot. His skin grates on yours, not because of him but because of you. Because you’re ashamed and he’s touching you and he shouldn’t. Fuck. You go swinging up into a sitting position, curling in on yourself as the blanket pools in your lap and his hands falls away.

“I’m sorry,” and it’s little more than a broken sigh. “You work so kriffing hard every day and it breaks my heart. You were tired on Daiyu and you’re more tired here, you’re exhausted, and it’s all my fault!”

One of Tai’s hands lands on your wrist. It burns you up inside. “What are you talking about?”

“This. Don’t you hate me for this? For having to come here?”

“I could never hate you-“

“And I could never hate you!”

Why are you angry? Why is it suddenly rushing over you like a storm, eating you up, charging your body with its electricity? Why is it so damn dark when all you want is to see his beautiful, beautiful face and hold him forever?

“I just hate this. I hate that stupid name I have to go by, I hate that I can’t just be me. I hate that we had to run because of me being an idiot. I hate that we can’t live together on our own, alone. I hate that I can’t touch you because Ilo might hear, or because maybe you’re angry with me, because I disappointed you. I hate that I’m not strong like you and Cody are. And I hate those stormtroopers and I hate the Empire, and I hate what they did to you.”

“Sweetheart,” he starts to chant, a gentle, pleading thing that urges you onto your side again, back in his arms and flush against his chest. He does his best to calm you and you do your best to let him, even though you feel like shit. “This wasn’t your fault.”

You sniffle. “And it wasn’t yours.”

His breath fans out across your face. “Then it isn’t either of ours.”

And you’re okay with that. The guilt still lingers in your belly and you can still feel it tight in his chest, but it’s a step toward self-forgiveness for both of you and that’s enough for now. It has to be. It will be.

He guides you both onto your backs with the blanket pulled up over your shoulders and under your chin. The weight of his hand is gentle on your cheek, a reminder not to let yourself drift too far away, just like the palm of your hand on his sternum does the same to him. You fall asleep like that, alone for the first time in forever and almost content.

The way back to town isn’t nearly as arduous as the way out of it was. This time Tai is being carried on the back of a bantha instead of dragged behind it. This time he has a blaster tucked into his waistband, taken off his love’s hip so you needn’t carry that burden for him; he’ll protect you both. This time the marshal is with them and she’s a remarkable negotiator, so he feels safer, a hair more at ease. It’s a bit like having a CO again. She knows more about these people and this land than he does, she has the tactical and intellectual advantage, but he trusts her and he’ll follow her orders. It’s oddly comforting to fall into that pattern again, and only mildly disconcerting if he allows it to be.

The war is over, he reminds himself, this is different.

And different it is because he never had you around back then. He wonders how his life would have been different, how he would have been different. Not that it changes anything. He’d rather have you now after it’s all over than to have you and potentially lose you back then. Still, it’s curious.

His hand settles at the arm draped around his ribcage and it tightens almost immediately. He smiles. There’s a lot on his mind right now, but it feels so small in comparison to this, to the simplicity of your touch, your cheek on his shoulder. It’s hard to see what’s going on back there, but he swivels his head around anyway and is happy to see you awake. Your eyes flicker to him and dank farrik, he could melt right then and there.

You’re so beautiful.

Perhaps that’s just his heart talking, perhaps he’s incredibly biased, but he doesn’t care. You’re beautiful and you’re his.

“We there yet?” you croak. Your voice has been scratchy since you woke up, likely due to the night air, but he can still pick up on your sarcasm. There you are.

“Getting bored, are you?”

“Mm, bored of the bantha, love, not you.”

“Shame,” he sighs, “I like it. I was thinking I might keep it.”

You snicker and rub your cheek into his shoulder blade. “Oh yeah? We gonna keep it in the bathroom or the kitchen?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Could share the room with Ilo.”

“Oh Maker, I’d rather live outside than with the two of them.”

Tatooine is not his favorite place in the galaxy, in fact it’s pretty low on the list, but it is in this one moment because it’s where your laughter is. It’s where you are. It’s where your arms wrap around him and your body heat seeps into his skin, miserable though it is at midday, but he’ll never complain about it so long as you’re with him.

The rest of the ride home passes slowly – he’d never really realized just how much sand there was until then – and Tai’s grateful when the party halts at Nej’s dwelling, a structure very similar to the one you, he, and Cody had stayed the night in in Mos Eisley. He slides off first to help you down, but he never lets you stray far; he keeps your hand tight in his. It’s here that Tilelli thanks the Tusken guides that had accompanied them and they amble sluggishly back the way they came.

She flicks the brim of her hat so the entire thing shifts to rests at her hairline. It’s more of her hair than he’s ever seen and even so, it’s just a few dark, wispy strands. “Right then, you two. ‘fore we head down there, I wanna make sure we’re all clear.”

You frown, but nod. Tai inclines his head a bit.

“I’ll explain everythin’ – how we found ya, the deal I struck, you two don’t hafta say a word. Probably be better comin’ from me since y’all are newcomers. Don’t wanna stir the pot much.”

“Thank you.”

Tilelli takes his offered hand and shakes it, smiling. “My pleasure, Tai.”

It doesn’t register with him for a minute because that’s his name, why shouldn’t she call him by it? But then he remembers where he and who he’s supposed to be. And he looks to you when he realizes that she must have heard you say it the previous night. Panic burns down his esophagus as he suddenly starts to spiral. Where can you both go? How quickly will you be able to leave? What if, what if, what if-

“We all got secrets ‘round here. Yours are safe with me.” She tilts the brim of her hat toward the rim of the canyon, just a few paces away from the dwelling’s foundation. “Shall we?”

By the time night falls again some hours later, you’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re determined to stay awake for as long as you can. You have so much work to do. There’s still shattered glass on the floor and all kinds of scuff marks from work boots and metal scraping on stone, and there’s the food that was left out, and that’s not even considering all the things you have to unpack and sort through in the-

“’s late.”

The sudden depth of his voice startles you enough that you nearly drop your broom. You rest one hand on your hip while you catch your breath, one brow quirked up and the other dropping down as you catch a glimpse of Tai passing into the main room.

“I’m just trying to-“

“I know,” he says as his hands come to pluck the broom out of yours. “I know, sweet girl.” It clatters on the edge of the counter when he sets it down very purposefully beyond your reach. “But you need rest.”

You shake your head. “I have work to do.”

“It can wait.” His nose brushes yours as he leans in for a whisper of a kiss, something that pulls you from the duties you’ve assigned yourself and begs you to fall into him. “It’ll be here in the morning. Come to bed.”

You want to dig your heels in and fight him on this, pretend you’re not nearly as tired as you really are. You want to get as much done now as you possibly can so that tomorrow is easier. You want to make a good first impression, you want to show Nej that you’re every bit the hard and capable worker that Tai promised you’d be, and if you don’t get this clean up job done then you’ll fall short of all those expectations. And you can’t do that, you won’t.

“Nej will understand. He’s not like Ilo.”

“But Tai-“

“No,” he rumbles. A shiver runs down your spine when his thumb traces the slope of your nose. “Sleep. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Low blow. You could never deny him anything and certainly not when he asks you like that. Your eyelids flicker for a moment, dipping low as they’re tempted by the sudden idea of sleep, resting beside him, drifting off in his presence. It’s so tempting. So… nice… Maybe if you just lean on him for a second, yes, that’s okay. That’s nice.

You’re vaguely aware of his voice continuing on, but it’s hazy and difficult to understand. All you can understand is his tone, soothing, deep, gentle, everything that he already is to you conveyed in the pitch of his words, whatever they may be.

Sleep. Sleep sounds good. It sounds cozy. It sounds like him. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, that’s where you also want to be, so you follow the darkness luring you to sleep and you curl up in the sounds of him until you’re surrounded by it. You don’t dream that night, but you rest better than you have in a very, very long time.

And when you wake in the morning, your skin already warm and covered a thin layer of sweat from the boiling heat of the desert, you find for the first time in a week that you have awakened in Mos Nefta and your lover is still at your side. He hasn’t risen before the sun to shower and hike to the canyon’s surface, he hasn’t left his side of the bed lukewarm-cool and empty. He’s there, asleep, snoring, and with all the little anxieties that usually crease his forehead notably absent. And he’s just barely touching you with his one hand stretched in your direction so his little finger can brush your arm.

Mesh’la. You think it over and over again. You’re not sure what language it is that he never dares to speak, not where it comes from or why he keeps it hidden, but this one word is overflowing with truth. He is beautiful. He’s not perfect in the way that the galaxy says he should be and he’s a man half haunted, but all his imperfections and all the love he gives you, all the love you feel for him, adds up to mesh’la.

He deserves to sleep a little longer, but you’re a selfish woman and you crave him more in this moment than ever before. Your palm finds his cheek as you awkwardly shift above him, trying not to jostle him too much while also trying to get as close as you can. His brow furrows a bit when you tilt his head, likely moments away from stirring, but it’s okay, he’ll understand. You just need to…

“Sweetheart- mmh!”

It’s clear that the kiss takes him by surprise. His limbs go stiff for a moment, then limp, and then finally, his hands are on you, pressing you to him with the slightest pressure, exhaling into your mouth (his morning breath is awful, but he’s cute so you’ll allow it), and sighing so prettily.

“Missed you,” is the murmur left on his lips when you finally pull away. “Love you,” is scattered repeatedly between the following round of pecks across his face. “You’re so handsome, baby. So mesh’la.”

A gargling sort of sound comes sputtering out of him in response, somewhere between a choke and a laugh maybe? “What’s gotten into you?” he hums with a lazy smile.

Ah, yes. You were wondering when he’d notice just how far your hands have wandered. But what’s so wrong with admiring your lover’s body when it’s been so long since the last time either of you felt safe enough or comfortable enough (or alone enough) to do so?

“Getting out of Ilo’s house, for starters.”

He laughs properly this time, all rumbly and gruff with his early morning voice that makes your stomach drop. “That all?” he asks as he curls his fingers around the shell of your ear and down your jaw.

“Is that not enough?”

You suppose there’s more to it than just moving into a proper room, although you feel so much better cocooned into Nej’s only spare room than you ever did in the more sprawling space of Ilo’s front room. At least here there’s a proper bed. And a door. Real privacy. You already feel more like yourself here, but there’s also the fact that despite all the fear and stress of the Tusken’s raid and the hours that Tai was missing, the two of you rediscovered your equilibrium in that tent. Alone in the Dune Sea. Finally able to give the apology you’d been too afraid to voice and to receive his understanding. Finally able to understand that he'd been blaming himself as much as you’d been blaming yourself.

Leaving Daiyu had hurt. Leaving behind your home and everything extra that you’d collected over the years, everything that couldn’t fit into a pack. And nothing about Tatooine has been easy. But he’s here with you and he’s alive, and isn’t that enough?

“Just feel more like myself, I suppose,” you finally explain after a few moments. “And after almost losing you, it’s like I never want to stop touching you. Just to make sure you’re still here with me.”

Tai nods. “I am here. Always. And I’m alright.”

“I know.” One of your hands slips under his sleep shirt and his breath stutters. He tries to play it off and act as though it doesn’t phase him, but you know him and you know his tells. The sudden stillness of his chest, the pulse leaping out from his throat, the crinkle of his brows. “Still. Should probably check everything, make sure you’re in peak condition.”

The smoky chuckle he gives you is so delicious. “Is that right?”

Karking shit, you want him bad. The craving that’s been building up and up in your blood suddenly boils over into desire, hot and sticky and utterly carnal. It thunders through you like a storm, drives your body on instinct rather than conscious thought. You know your way around him better than you know anything else. All you want is to touch him and hear him shudder and make love to him until your body gives out and neither of you can remember your names. So you put your hand around the base of his head and pull him in for another kiss before he can stop you.

Your tongue slips into his mouth and past his teeth, seeking, taking, sucking, tasting every inch of him that he can give. You hope to drown in him, let his essence soak into yours until it's impossible to tell you two apart. And when he moans into your mouth and grips harder at your waist, it only spurs you on even more. You start nipping at his tongue, then retreat and latch onto his lower lip, drawing it between your own as you dig your canines in.

His eyes burn so molten hot that you're almost afraid he'll snap, but truth be told, you wouldn't mind if he did. Tai could bend you over right now and take you, and you'd kriffing beg him for it. Your body has been silently craving his for so long that you're not even sure you'll last once he starts putting his hands inside your clothes.

"Don't. Tease."

"Or what?" Your arms slide up and over his shoulders to trace over the veins in his neck, the thick cords of muscle that are now straining under his skin. "You'll fuck me?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweet girl. I'll make love to you." You open your mouth to fire back some smart retort when he yanks you hard against him by the waist and your mind goes completely blank as limbs slot into place and you find yourself half on top of him, half melting into the mattress. "Build you up and break you down to make up for all the time we lost."

Fuck, you can't breathe. "Promise?"

One of his cheeks dimples when he smirks. "I'm a man of my word."

He always has been. Your loyal soldier, the man who's made his home in the chambers of your heart.

You kiss him again, slower this time, while you snake a hand down his chest, over the swell of his tummy to the hem of his boxers. You’re salivating by the time you retreat from the warmth of his mouth. You need to taste him. It’s never been such a strong need before, not like this, and if you don’t get your mouth on him in the next minute, you’re surely going to explode.

It's at the exact moment that you slip under the fabric and wrap your hand around him, of course, that there’s a knock at the door. You don’t mean to, but your hand tightens on instinct and it’s everything Tai can do not to shout out at how alarmingly good it must feel because you can feel the vibrations of his withheld moan all the way in his gut.

“Yes?” you call. Tai seems otherwise occupied at the moment.

“Suns are up.” It’s Nej. “I was hopin’ Nax’d be able to get to work on the equipment early today.”

A very wicked idea comes to mind. You run your thumb over the head of Tai’s cock just as you reply, “He just woke up, but he’ll be ready in a few minutes.” It’s projected just loud enough that it hopefully muffles the grunt he lets out.

The look he sends your way is absolutely foul. Oh, he looks like he could kill you. Or maybe he looks like he could fuck your brains out. Perhaps that’s why his eyes are glinting so dangerously. You smile as sweetly as you can manage, but it quickly devolves into a smirk. You’re not fooling anyone.

Nej gives his thanks and you can just make out the sound of his crutches as he hobbles back down the hall. Good. The moment he’s out of earshot, you’re going to town on your man. If you live that long, of course, because with the way he’s looking at you, it’s entirely possible he’ll smother you to death. Not a bad way to go so long as it’s between his thighs.

“Minx,” he growls, still quiet enough to not be heard beyond the door but with all the venom and fierce arousal you see in his eyes.

You squeeze him again. “I’ll be quick, mesh’la.”

And the sound he makes must rewrite the chemistry of your brain. “Kriff, don’t- don’t say things like that,” he huffs, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I don’t know.” There’s nothing casual about the way you slowly wet your lips and flicker your eyelids so your lashes flutter. There’s nothing casual about the way you fix him with the exact same “fuck me” eyes you gave him in that bar so long ago. “You look like you’re enjoying it,” and you’re sure to quicken the pace of your strokes as you say it. “Now lay back, old man. Let me wake you up properly.”

He almost certainly has some witty remark on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it to himself. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that glazed over shine in his eyes really means he’s too far gone to even notice or care that you just called him an old geezer. Maybe he wants you just as badly as you want him, so this little barb doesn’t rile him up like it normally would. Instead, he watches you settle onto your stomach between his thighs, soft and warm and ready, and he lets you take him into the damp heat of your mouth, run your tongue along his length until he's shuddering and sighing. He sounds like the prettiest, sweetest symphony.

Tai settles a hand on the crown of your head. Its weight is firm and heavy, but hesitant. He's probably holding back. Doesn't want to hurt you. No time for that. Nej is waiting and you have a mission to complete – you need to taste him and it needs to be fast. But being fast doesn’t mean you don’t tease. You still run the tip of your tongue along the dip in his head, still take a moment to lick a long, slow strip from his base to the top, and you do make sure that you never look away. Want him to see how deep your desire runs. Want to see him unfold for you.

“C-Can’t. Hold out. Much longer.” Oh, and his teeth are bared, shining in the dim slivers of light coming in through the window shade. “Mesh’la.”

His legs are starting to shake and you manage a smile around his fullness, just for a breath, just long enough for him to see it and moan.

“Fuck, your mouth. Dangerous little thing.”

You hum cheerily in response. Take a deep breath, unlock your jaw as far as you can and lower yourself until you’re taking more than you usually can. Then you swallow.

It all happens so fast. His legs tense up and the tips of his nails dig into your scalp, hold you on him until you’re choking and sputtering just like you wanted to be, and he’s coming and coming and coming. Every noise he makes goes straight to your cunt, floods your senses until the creases of your thighs feel slick and your stomach is twisting. Every jerk of his hips and desperate, breathy whimper that comes out of him is so fucking intoxicating that even though he’s finished and made a complete mess of you, you don’t want to stop. You just need a second to breathe and then-

Then he’s pulling you off, gasping for air as you resettle beside him. There’s something about the way his eyes are going in and out of focus, how his chest is rising and falling so rapidly, how unbelievably sexy he looks all fucked out, Maker, this man is going to be the death of you.

He relays the same sentiment once his breathing has settled.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it?”

He makes a big show of rolling his eyes and huffing as if he’s genuinely annoyed, but you know he’s just flustered. Big old softie.

“I think you liked it a little too much,” he murmurs. His nails scratch over the back of your neck as he kisses you, prompting you to mewl softly into his tongue. “Shame I have work to do. Guess I won’t be able to make love to you like I promised.”

“That’s alright,” you start to say. I can wait, you want to say. I had fun teasing you, you almost say. You’ll make it up to me later. But he cuts you off with a swift nibble on your earlobe and all you can get out is a lewd little whine.

There’s a moment between his tongue swirling under your jawbone and his teeth nipping at your neck where your brain blacks out and you swear you can feel him between your legs, but that can’t be right. He has to get ready for work. You’re just not thinking clearly from the arousal and the early hour and, and… And the fingers gliding through your slick are definitely real and he’s definitely trying to distract you from it or rile you up with all the attention lavished on your throat, and now you can’t even think clearly because all there is is him and his fingers and his tongue, and, “Right there, right there, fuck, baby. Tai, Tai-“

And just like that, his fingers are gone and your body is flashing hot and cold in his absence. Hell, he’s already climbing off the bed as if he didn’t just wipe your brain of all cognitive thought with a single touch. “Like I said, my love, I have work to do.”

No, wait. Hang on. This wasn’t supposed to go like this. “But-“

“Shame, really.” He’s already pulled on his trousers and started on his belt. “But duty calls.”

Now he’s just being mean. You crawl out of bed like some long-legged, newborn bug who hasn’t learned to walk just yet. “Tease.”

The dimple in his cheek returns when he smiles at you. “Minx.”

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?” As if you weren’t okay with that just 10 seconds ago. But then he’d touched you and that went screaming out the window.

Tai’s quiet at first. He slips on his undershirt, lips pursed as he thinks. Then he pulls on his work shirt and starts working on the buttons. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but he’s the only flame you’ll ever burn yourself with; you reach out and snag one of the buttons, slip it through the loop, and let your fingers linger after. There’s a beat, a breath, then two. The tension in the room is so thick that the air feels humid.

Just as you withdraw, his hands lock around your wrists. His head tilts up and his eyes catch yours. Oh. Your stomach drops to the floor the moment before he crowds you in against the wall. Danger danger danger goes the alert in the back of your head, but it’s him, it’s Tai. The only danger is the possibility of you coming on the spot if he says something dirty enough.

“You’ll work hard today, won’t you?”

Confusion creases your brow. “Yes?”

Something rumbles deep in his chest when he leans in and pins you to the wall. “You’ll be good, cyar’ika?”

You don’t know this word, but you love the way he makes it sound, so you nod eagerly. “Yes, baby, I’ll be good.” Whatever good means.

“And when the suns set.” His breath warms your still damp skin, a chill runs down your spine. “When our work is done, when Nej has gone to sleep and the desert is quiet.” Fuck. Fuck, he’s so close, he’s so riled up, and he’s so, so close, you can feel him everywhere. But you still can’t touch him, not with your hands pinned to the stone. “I’ll make good on my promise.”

"Build you up and break you down to make up for all the time we lost."

Your eyes very nearly roll back into your head. “You, you promise?”

He leaves you with a chaste, tender kiss and a nip at your throat. “Always.” And then he’s gone.

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[azurajae]

Y'know, I've been thinking a lot lately about appearances and identity in regards to both Sora, Yozora, and the Nameless Star.

Both Nameless Star and Yozora say that the person we see as Yozora isn't really what he looks like. Nameless Star specifically says his heart was replaced by another and his form had changed beyond recognition.

You know who else had their form changed "beyond recognition"?

When I first watched the trailer, I just couldn't believe my eyes that this guy was Sora. Like I knew in my heart it was him, but my eyes couldn't recognize him. Judging by the reaction videos I watched, many people seemed to feel the same (it was only when he summoned the Kingdom Key that people were affirmed that it is, Sora). Compared to the lovable spikey haired boy we've grown to love, his KH4 appearance, it's almost like night and day.

Nameless Star talks about how her identity and name had been taken from her. Yozora seemed to have lost his identity too, no longer looking like his original form. And now Sora has been changed so drastically?

I know Nomura did say that Sora looks like this because he is in Quadratum, but even if that's true, it doesn't mean that there isn't also a very delibrate reason on why Sora looks like that and not more like... Sora. I know that KH dev team and Nomura is not uncreative enough to not come up with a more faithful realistic interpretation of what Sora looks like. Just look at other modern FF characters and they were able to pull off their older designs faithfully in realistic graphics, so... why the hell does Sora look like Noctis?

Now how does connect to Sora's changed appearance? No idea honestly, but I do feel do something's up. More consequences to do with being banished from reality? Did Sora get his heart replaced by another too? Or perhaps did he lose part or all of his identity like Nameless Star or Yozora? I have like a crack theory where this could all be foreshadowing that Luxu is about to body hop into Sora, but I have no proof.

And for additional theming, there's a whole can of worms with Riku looking almost exactly like Yozora and Kairi's beta footage from the KH1 secret footage looking eeriely familiar to the girl in the Verum Rex trailer. The whole thing about MoM is that we don't know his identity. And then there's also the fact that Luxu literally replaces people's heart with his own when he body hops like what happened with Yozora.

Like, something is going on here... right?

[brongusthearcanist]

Sci-fi and Fantasy are linked in a strange way. Both deal with impossible premises and both typically have what we call "magic" but we don't normally call Sci-fi shenanigans magic, unless they are strictly spiritual. Sci-fi approaches the impossible as if it's simply not possible yet, and that this world has made a break through, allowing them to make this possible. Sci-fi also tends to spend a lot more time explaining how something works with science, or a modified version, while Fantasy explains it through the supernatural and mysticism.

Obviously no series in either category perfectly follows these rules. The cosmere explains that the supernatural is actually natural and measurable, therefore spiritualism is just another part of science. Star wars in my opinion does the opposite. It takes place in a society with future technology and all the trappings of Sci-fi, but it does it in a very fantasy way. Lightsabers are I think the best example, why would you ever need a sword when everyone else has laser guns, because cool fantasy that's why, it's a laser sword. The futuristic elements are portrayed with a mystic elements. And of course there is magic, they try to make is sciency later by explaining that the force is medicorians or whatever, but it still operates on a spiritual and mystical level, and truly isn't completely comprehensible. Which is in contrast to the Cosmere where all the mystical elements just feel like science that hasn't been explained yet.

Dune is where it gets a little weird to me. I think most people would put this in the hard Sci-fi camp, but I disagree. Yes this series is to Sci-fi what Lord of the Rings is to Fantasy, but I think there's a lot of Fantasy in there. I mean the voice? That's magic, Bene Gesseret being able to transmute substances in their body including poison? Magic. Prescience? It comes from a magic drug, made by magic worms! Yes the books do try to approach this from a very sciency way, but a lot of it just feels like magic, no matter how much Herbert tries to make it scientific. (Btw Sanderson's favorite book series other than the Wheel of Time is Dune, so you can definitely see a lot of his inspirations in this, in fact Taldain, the setting of white sands, is definitely just Cosmere Arrakis, like it even has its own version of sand trout.) There's also a shit ton of mysticism in Dune, and yes much of it is discussing the manufactured nature of religion and aspects of spirituality to control the masses, but there is also a sense that not all of it is made up, that the people in power are manipulating truth without really knowing what it is, just so they can get ahead and stay that way.

Obviously genre, especially in books are really just marketing terms designed to help find the right audience for a particular story. This is the same with YA. YA is an even less concrete genre as it requires very little. Mistborn was not originally marked as YA, it's an epic high fantasy, but after a couple years the boys at TOR figured out that it has a lot of the trappings of YA. It's fast paced, has a young strong female protagonist, a dark dystopian setting, and is written in pros that don't require an incredibly dense knowledge of vocabulary, making it easy to comprehend for all ages. It was a no-brainer for Tor to start printing a YA version(just a paperback with a different cover that is stylized in a way that is very common for YA). YA really just means a teenager could read this without feeling like it's homework. That's really it. There are a lot of people who hate YA for incredibly weird reasons. I personally am weary of YA, simply because I enjoy a slower plot with more room for nuance and sitting in the moment. YA tends to be more fast paced, which I enjoy, but it often comes at the cost of depth. There are a lot of YA books that I enjoy and a lot that I would enjoy if they were written to be a little more "boring". But some of y'all really just don't wanna read anything that is labeled as YA, and I'm positive it is just misogyny. Like y'all just don't wanna read books that are popular and "primarily" marketed towards women, and it's really, really pathetic.

I don't know how this turned into what it is, and I don't have a final point to end this on that will tie it all together. Enjoy this ADHD clusterfuck of a post where none of my points are truly taken to completion

I do not know how to end this, I just wanted to talk about it

[boyswhowawa]

Artisaint [Dancing's Done]

(trigger warning, stylized blood and violence)

Played around a bit

Had a lot of fun making this piece, ajds;lkfja;sldkfjakl;skdfj, took me a bit over 3 hours...

some more fun stuff under the cut >:D (chat about process/alternative color one/song pairing)

First things first, this piece pairs well with this song, to me;

"People like you and me were born to run" my brain went "ough that's them alright" "Where we goin' when the dancin's done" and I was like "well yeah they're doomed to eternity aren't they... there's nowhere TO go" "Take me to the edge of afterlife" and I was like, very literal with this one i was like "oh yeah neither of them can ENTER the afterlife, they're stuck on the edge"

and also just, the song slaps ngl ajs;fdklajdf;la

and also also

alt colors version !

one where Saint is more blue to match, and Arti is more red to match, pretty simple, but I like both versions a lot, ajsdf;laks

The first one isn't evven their natural colors, it's just done for fun and such, and I thought those colors looked good for the piece, but then I wanted an alt wehre they were more red and I ended up liking it ! so I am sharing both

OKAY PROCESS LET'S GO

The initial sketch of course

it was at this point I went "oh god is this too much for me?" "hey, it's okay Foxes, you just gotta try, okay?" and so I did

Saint and Arti<3 I did arti first, then saint, and I had a ton of fun figuring out how to do them, I wanted to limit the amount of colors I was allowed to use for them, 3 base colors for the body, then eyes I could do whatever (which was mostly for Arti)

It made me really think hard about what I wanted to do, and I'm really happy with how they came out

so close......

this is when I finished the void worm! I learned my program had filters so I went kinda crazy using them on this piece, asjd;flkajdsf;al

for the arti half, i was basically just using the sketch as a rough guide, and I was doing it one layer at a time

the second layer of pink on the right done

the second layer of pink on the left done

this centipede wasn't in the sketch at all!! but I thought adding it would help with the variety of things there, and with the balance of the piece, originally it was just gonna be another spear there

left side all pinked up

and right side all pinked up!!

I really loved how it all looked, it was super fun playing with those colors, and I'm DEFINITELY doing something like this again sometime

did some filter wrok, and boom, it was done!

it was a blast to work on, and I hope y'all enjoy it >:D

[rowlfthedog]

Do you have a favorite Muppet monster? I'm partial to Mad Mama, myself. She's one of the few characters with both a hand puppet and full body model. Queen of versatility. Plus it's weirdly validating to see a monster with an inconsistent gender in a full length ballgown.

I’d probably give the same answer, actually! But for the sake of originality, I’m gonna go with Big V/Gorgon Heap. Y’all can probably tell based on my interest in Jimmy Dean but I’m really into pre-Muppet Show Muppet media, and Inchworm/Glow Worm is one of my favorite recurring variety show skits. Sorry Kermit…Mr. Henson was right about “Muppet eats another Muppet” being funny.

I’m also gonna use this opportunity to plug some THOG appreciation. Not much to say there. I just think he’s adorable. Thog /do/ caare…💙

[layalu]

OC Summary

Woo look i'm finally making an oc intro post on here! This is def non exhaustive and a lot of these guys are old/inactive, but i tried to include the ones that are the most likely to come up xdd Might add more in the future, but this is them for now :]

[continues under the cut]

first of, some og kiddos! most of these originated in rpg/growing species groups on dA but are just unaligned ocs now

Dawn

the only exception to the above statement xd She's my avatar/mascot, essentially! There isn't much else to her honestly. Fun fact about her name origin though: My warriors.. sona, i guess? was called Morgenröte, or Dawnlight when i used her in english contexts, so Dawn's name is a callback to that c: I also considered naming her Morgan as a reference to "Morgen"

Kiran

Used to be a very spunky kid before Trauma TM happened and depression beat her ass. She's been getting better though! Used to be best friends with Lacrima but they've since grown apart. Loves animals and started working on Sam's farm partime.

Lacrima

Smart, self-sufficient, maybe a liiittle fucked up by when she god hellbent on vengeance oops. Lost her closeness with a bunch of her childhood friends during that time. Still a bit all over the place but has found she enjoys administrative work.

Noé

Local theatre kid, and a freelance artist. Which art? That changes with the wind. He has trouble committing to things but that's because so many things in this world are interesting!

Sam

Bit softie with abandonment issues. Loves his family and LARPing and his asshole horse named Sir Samuel II. Works on his farm full time but tries making as much time for his friends and family as possible. Childhood friends with Tumble.

Tumbleweed

A gentle giant who practically lives in the water. Life motto: motto: can't be disappointed by life if you don't expect anything! Works as a life guard and swim instructor. Childhood friends with Sam

Quentin

The swetest potato, but has trouble making friends. A casual but enthusiastic collector with a love for tinkering! Has a workshop together with Flora where he does repair work on mostly on non-mechanical things

Flora

Timid, but inquisitive and creative. Original founder of her now shared workshop which started as a mech repair shop and now entails "anything we can fix!"

Desertblaze

One of my oldest ocs! She's been (re)used a bunch and has been through some shit but always managed to keep finding beauty and love in life. She is. Very near and dear to my heart <3

Nightscar

Tbh i have not used him in a hot minute but i wanted to include him cos he's pretty u.u Also a very old oc; his og name was Schattenjäger (shadowhunter) lol. The first version of him drowned though rip.

Stormyrain

Another fave :] Spunky and full of wanderlust. Her cat version has been inactive for a long time but i love reusing iterations of her cos she is fun and i love her.

Kokosamu

Smug little shit who is equipped with an ego that is way too big for his tiny body. Despite this he is not as bad as he seems! Mostly. He does mean well.

Styrnlona

Big arms, big heart, big hopes. Grew up in a family of fishers and hopes to win lots of money at the coliseum for her family. Turns out that is Really Hard though.

Mikh'a

Is here to avoid responsibilities out of boredom and because adventurers get paid well, right? Well wouldn'tcha know, adventuring is dangerous! oops.

Ulhar

(Ex-)entertainer, professional bullshitter, and apparently a hero now? Ugh. Really just wants to get rid of the worm in her brain, please. Would love to say she doesn't care about anything but unfortunately for her she cares A Lot.

Jamie

The Cooler Sister, bestie of Cove, aspiring marine biologist. If you see me call her Stormy, it's because she is an iteration of Stormyrain xd

[darkautodraws]

Another brain worm/plot bunny manifested: an Earthspark/Bee and Puppycat crossover. Some more details below:

The concept is that Bee, from Bee and Puppycat, is a Pretender bot; a type of transformer designed to mimic humans.

In this AU, Pretenders aren't Cybertronians, but an artificial sister species developed by the alien scientist known as Dr. Bird.

Bee was supposed to be the only Pretender (build simply to be Dr. Bird's cool superpowered child), with the other protoforms serving as backup bodies in case her original one was damaged beyond repair. However, due to a Decepticon raid on his laboratory a few years into the war on Earth, several of the stored protoforms went missing, and turned up in various locations around the world, accidentally forming another transformer species.

A Pretender's alt mode is their human form. They start off as very small, inactive protoforms (not unlike Sari's protoform in TFA), until a human or human-like alien makes contact, at which point the protoform activates, scans the organic's DNA, and transforms into what very much looks like a young child of that species. They then grow up much like a human child.

Unlike a Cybertronian, Pretenders don't really rely on Energon to survive. Dr. Bird designed them so that they can convert just about anything into fuel, if they can tolerate eating it, at the cost of needing to consume a lot if they're going to be exceptionally active. Most either eat like Saiyans to have the energy to run at full capacity, or sleep a lot to run safely on relatively little energy. Energy crystals, or "candy" as Bee calls them, are a way of avoiding needing this (energon also works), but they're hard to come by for most Pretenders.

(Bee's activation predates the arrival of the Autobots on Earth by about five years. Bird thought that Earth would be a good spot to hide out since it was so out of the way, but was proven wrong a couple centuries into his stay. He wound up leaving because the end of the war meant that GHOST would be paying a lot closer attention to suspicious activity, having the then 20-year-old Bee stay behind to guard the old ship turned island.)

(People who've been living on Ship Island - Bee's home town - for a long time have something of a weirdness censor going on. The island is known for having a sedative effect on anyone who visits it. Most think it's just because it's a beautiful locale with gorgeous coastlines, lots of great restaurants, and a relaxed beachy atmosphere. They're only half right; when the ship first landed in that spot centuries ago, one of the first things Dr. Bird set up was a "cognitive cloaking field" to keep humans from freaking out at the sight of aliens and alien technology.)

(That weirdness censor is what's kept Bee, Puppycat, and the other more unusual residents of the Island under the radar of GHOST, since anyone who spends time there simply doesn't care enough to note how weird anything is. That also makes that island a popular rest stop for transformers on the run, as one can appear in full robot form and hardly anyone in that area will bat an eye. Frenzy happily demonstrates this to the Maltos by standing right in front of a guy at a restaurant, no disguise at all, and slapping his salad onto the floor. The guy just calls for a waiter to ask for a replacement salad because he dropped it.)