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ohwaitimthewriter · 4 months

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The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say “I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

------------

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

#planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #fanfiction #noa x human reader #noa x reader #pota #kotpota #oc/reader

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lunarmoves · 3 months

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a yawn escapes your mouth, cracking your jaw with its force as you belatedly lift a hand in an attempt to cover it. your muscles stretch with the deep intake of breath, then relax just as quickly. oof.

"tired?" a familiar voice asks from somewhere in front of you, low like the hum of the cosmos.

you find yourself opening your scrunched eyes to blink hazily at sun. he offers you an unreadable smile, fingertips pressed together quaintly from his position beyond the daycare's security desk. it's just you and him in here, waiting for the lights to inevitably go out.

you rub at one of your eyes, wiping away any stray tears from your yawn. "you could say that. 's been a long day." your arms lift over your head in a stretch. sitting in the little chair by the security desk for hours at a time doesn't do wonders for your back and shoulders. "doesn't help that i had all those sandwiches earlier," you add with a grimace, eyeing all the wrappers you'd piled in a corner of the desk. you can still feel the heaviness in your gut from them. fazco sandwiches are sincerely no joke.

sun's head tilts to the side slightly. his eyes narrow a little, as though in thought. "why would that matter?"

"oh." you blink at him, letting your arms rest on your thighs. you ponder upon his question. "well, sometimes when we eat a lot of food, it makes us sleepy."

sun lets out a hum, and his head does a full rotation. tick tick ticking away until it straightens itself properly. he leans forward to rest his arms on the top of the desk. "that seems... counterproductive," he responds, thoughtful.

you shrug and lean back in your seat. "that's just how it is for us. i think it depends on the kinds of food we eat."

he's quiet for a moment, the daycare's little jingle echoing around the room. his white gaze has latched onto your own, though you wonder if he's really seeing you and not... lost in whatever artificial thoughts are running through his head. you can never tell what they are. and when he eventually speaks again, you wonder grimly if knowing is truly something you even want.

"humans are so inefficient," he says like he's ruminating over the laws of physics. you quirk an eyebrow at him. he continues, "your biology is so limiting."

you frown at him. this is... unexpected, to say the least. you're unsure how to handle it. "well, i guess, but—"

"the other day," he interrupts you, one of his fingers tapping steadily at the bottom of his faceplate, "you had something in your eye. it was an eyelash. why have something that hinders you in this manner?"

"it's just... things we've learned to deal with," you respond stiffly, giving him another halfhearted shrug. "things we cannot help. evolution, y'know? we can't all be designed to perfection." it's said sourly, your gaze not-so-discreetly shifting up and down his figure.

"hm, yes." the tapping gets steadily faster. you are unable to tear your gaze away from his own encompassing one. white lights behind a sliver of glass. "you know, friend"—he leans down closer to you, voice lowering until it's no louder than a whisper—"it astonishes me how humanity has remained the dominant species for so long."

you swallow heavily. "yeah?" you say weakly.

"yes," he says, edges of his smile sharpening. "it truly makes me wonder if this reign will ever come to an end. what do they say—natural selection?" something bottoms out in the pit of your stomach.

you don't deign him with an answer. you only watch as he stands before you—metal and silicon and gears and electricity. towering above your smaller form like he's ready to bring this end himself.

#this version of sun is a bit. ehhh. well. he's got a bit of a robot superiority complex lol #in his human hater era. it's a phase. probably. he'll learn to love u tho dw <3 #dca x reader #dca x y/n #dca x self insert #fnaf dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #daycare attendant x y/n #daycare attendant x self insert #sun x you #sun x reader #sun x y/n #sun x self insert #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf sun x y/n #sundrop x reader #sundrop x y/n #shay scribbles daydreams #bleeding wires au

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weirdmageddon · 1 year

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yesterday i wrote a scene where jade wasnt a plot device and was left the hell alone in A6A5 because this being dave and jade’s last proper conversation in years made me sad and i wanted to see them reunite properly. i mixed a bit of narration in too even though it was rare around this point in the comic but its just to paint a better picture. also i wouldnt mind feedback on character voice (it’s important to me that the dialogue sounds believable)

[3 years are over, everyone is in the new session. The prospit ship is on LOMAX, as is everyone who arrived on the meteor, safely warped by Jade onto LOMAX as well. Jade has banished B2 Jack to the Furthest Ring already. She hasn't seen her friends in 3 years, not to mention she never met the trolls in person yet.]

[Jade teleports to LOMAX where John was talking with the meteor crew. Her eyes widen when she sees the trolls, giving everyone a greeting. Jade waves to the trolls.]

You’ll have time to catch up with them later. First you want to reconvene with Rose and Dave.

> ==>

Dave... Oh my god! DAVE!!! That’s right! The last time you saw him, he died in your arms after Jack redirected the bullets from your gun into his body!

JADE: dave!!!! DAVE: hey DAVE: this has been three years coming hasnt it DAVE: cmere

> ==>

[Dave hugs Jade with a slight grin on face. He notices her… sniffing him?? but doesn’t even bother to question it.]

JADE: it is so nice to hold your body when its not a corpse :) DAVE: ok DAVE: weird thing to say DAVE: actually who am i kidding who gives a shit DAVE: i almost forgot how much i missed the enigmatic riddlefuckery that is your phrasing DAVE: fortunately i have context for this so i know what youre saying DAVE: humor me for a sec and imagine that i didnt DAVE: but first DAVE: are those dog ears JADE: yes! i am part dog now JADE: because i prototyped my dreamself with becsprite JADE: jadesprite became part of me! and so did her doggy traits from bec DAVE: got it DAVE: oh yeah john mentioned that on the back of his dumb poster inside that bucket that appeared out of thin air DAVE: right before we had to haul ass out of there before jack caught up to us DAVE: karkat had a complete fucking meltdown over that btw i wish you couldve seen it DAVE: damn it feels like so long ago now JADE: heheheh i remember JADE: john realized it at the last second but it was too late! DAVE: of course it was johns idea only he could do something that gooberish DAVE: you know what this means though JADE: yup!! woof woof DAVE: it means youve done it harley DAVE: youve finally done it god damn it DAVE: the evolution of humankind is finally upon us DAVE: the scientists said it would never happen in our lifetime DAVE: but look what we have here DAVE: before me stands mans first legitimate furry subspecies DAVE: homo canis DAVE: as the name implies theyre gay as fuck btw DAVE: its too bad all those scientists are dead and cant witness this phylogenetic breakthrough DAVE: rip to the science community yall wouldve lost your collective shit DAVE: hey jade lets pour one out for the science community for being real ones

> ==>

You are still nestled into Dave’s shoulder. He’s taken a sort of protective position over you. Your perceptive barkbeast ears can hear his formerly bullet-riddled heart beating a mile a minute with the regularity of quartz beneath his time-branded pajamas, all the while he continues to ramble to you about certifiably dumb shit. You can tell Dave is psyched to see you again, even if he expresses it in his OWN bizarre way, which means extended metaphors and topical tangents. What a hypocrite, calling YOUR phrasing perplexing! You sure missed this guy.

You realize you started tuning him out while thinking about all this.

DAVE: jade JADE: umm homo is the species name JADE: so wouldnt that mean were all gay? :p DAVE: yeah that sounds about right DAVE: anyway enough of this bullshit

> ==>

[Dave motions to retract his arms since he doesn’t want it to get too weird, but Jade squeezes tighter. Dave immediately yields to the movement]

DAVE: jesus wow ok DAVE: really happy to see you too DAVE: like if you had a tail it would be wagging so forcefully youd be knocking over all the fucking furnishings in the room DAVE: just slapping it so hard on the owners thigh that it feels like theyre being flogged DAVE: talk about getting bitch slapped JADE: :D DAVE: so howve you been JADE: really really excited to see you guys all again!!! JADE: and to meet the trolls! DAVE: yeah theyre pretty weird DAVE: and im still not used to it DAVE: but it gets more manageable the longer youre around them DAVE: by the way JADE: ?

> ==>

DAVE: sorry you had to go through that JADE: through what? DAVE: seeing me die and stuff again DAVE: except that time right in front of you JADE: .... DAVE: when we were gathering up all those frogs i knew jack was going to appear DAVE: i was waiting and waiting to play it out DAVE: mentally rehearsing my fucking torso getting turned into swiss cheese and knowing you would have to watch on top of it DAVE: i had to make sure it happened to protect the integrity of the alpha timeline DAVE: but if you knew this was going to happen you wouldve tried to prevent it and created a doomed one DAVE: and so i didnt say anything DAVE: i couldnt DAVE: so DAVE: sorry for putting you through that JADE: oh..... JADE: dave D: JADE: well im here JADE: if you ever want to talk about it DAVE: its cool DAVE: you just deserve to know what happened there DAVE: but thanks DAVE: so am i JADE: yeah i know JADE: i guess i should be glad you did that then... JADE: even though i was freaking out when it happened ._. JADE: otherwise you wouldnt be here will us now dressed in your red god tier time pajamas DAVE: yeah these magical rags really are comfortable arent they DAVE: and they stay like perma clean JADE: they are! i would wear mine over and over for days on end JADE: id take a nice shower and put it right back on JADE: and you know how much i love cycling my outfits through my wardrobifier JADE: by the way dave your cape is sooo cool! :o DAVE: thanks DAVE: yeah i love it its hella soft DAVE: its like ive got a portable snuggle blanket with me in case i ever need to drop to the floor like a tired sack of shit and get my snooze on DAVE: ive got a permanent personal reservation at club bed featuring dj pillow and mc blanky JADE: heheheh JADE: can i touch your cape? DAVE: of course go nuts JADE: yaaaay!!

#hs #homestuck #davejade #dave strider #jade harley #my hs dialogues

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killallxys · 20 days

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Two aliens from really far away are discussing humanity. This is how they end their long conversation about misogyny.

Zorp: Glorp, what eats the human male? What’s its damage?

Glorp: *chuckles* I ask myself that every single day. They do seem to have a religious allegiance to their LARP, don’t they? In the name of the LARP, they artificially make the world hellish just so they can feel Cool and Manly. The human Boys Club is a death cult. A vain and theatrical attempt at easing their gender dysphoria *glorp giggles* Their audience is not amused

Zorp: *nods enthusiastically* I can’t wrap my head around it. This is such an esoteric lesson that I’m learning. The sheer scale of males’ obsession with death and destruction and brutality is finally dawning on me now. Could it be resentment of its own expendability in the process of reproduction? The male, does it see itself as nothing but a carrier of sperm? A single use discard object? *zorp laughs* Why would such a thing matter, anyway? These humans, they have advanced so much now, technologically. Why are human males still holding onto their goofy LARP? They have contrived a centuries-spanning cult of false superiority tied into dominating and controlling the bodies of others. But their flesh bodies could just as easily be dominated, gored, and destroyed by gorillas, for example… could they not? What has went so awry with their priorities and ambitions?

*zorp sighs* I thought that the whole point of human beings was them having complex brains that allow them to solve problems and communicate and invent technologies, thus allowing them to consciously realize the vision of Heaven! Why do males choose to reject this divine opportunity, which is uniquely granted to human beings, to leave violence in the past?

*zorp scratches xir head, genuinely confused as fuck about the matter*

Why do they continue to degrade themselves to the role of an ignorant beast, on purpose nonetheless… Why do they stall the evolution of humankind for their own selfish purposes………. It feels like an insult to even call them beasts when the beasts themselves far surpass them in nobility and honesty. Why do they spit in the faces of women like this?

Glorp: Oh dear Zorp, I am jaded, if you didn’t know that already. I admire your curiosity and good faith. I myself have given up hope that the human male can be properly understood or reasoned with. His cruelty is his driving force, Zorp. It is what gives him purpose in life. I don’t get it, and I don’t want to fucking get it.

*Glorp takes a deep contemplative breath*

I don’t know why males do it, Zorp. I have, after all these years, come to realize that the human male is a confused and stubborn flesh-beast-ape-monster-goblin-creature that wants to fight the Sisyphean battle against evolution. Zorp, that is the Sin. That is the true Sin. And of course, as we know, the Sinner resides in Hell, and the man through his Sin has made earth Hell not only for himself but even worse and even more punishing for the Woman, who he uses as the ultimate scapegoat for his deep moral rot. Eve in the Bible is a profound example of this, as it is the male himself who has kicked humanity out of Heaven. The Woman reminds him of what he is too lazy and selfish to become, and so he punishes her relentlessly for committing such an offense against his ape-ego.

*zorp gasps*

Glorp: That’s right. the male has sinned his way into hell. He has cursed and doomed humanity to a hellish fate. As he upholds his obsessive crusade, marked by rape and brutality and tyrannical control, he moves further and further away from humanity, away from himself. The male enjoys force because he himself ceaselessly attempts, in vain, to force humanity backwards in the timeline of evolution. He wants to be an animal, but he is worse than an animal! He is too cocky to be an animal, and too lazy to be a human being! He wants to play God, but he does not know what God means. Prosperity, Love, and Peace be damned! The male does not see nobility in these virtues. They’re not cool enough for him. Nor is the Truth, which is the highest Justice, which is the highest Love, which is the highest Good. The male hysterically rejects the Truth because it ruins his comfortable immersion in the LARP, in the Matrix! Just like a petulant and stubborn ego demon, he gets cranky when he is reminded of his own inadequacies and failures. The male uncritically believes anything that supports his religious belief in his own superiority over women. He consumes and consumes, takes and never gives. He is mindless!

The modern male is simply a poor slave-cog-number in a machine created by males before him. Destined from birth to sacrifice his own progression forward into humanity, in the name of the stupid fucking LARP. The male sex is a selfish beast that is too stubborn to walk into the light. A lazy foul degenerate DISGUSTING *glorp slightly lunges forward when saying that* beast that would rather dwell among the stench of rotten bodies, than walk in a garden of new ideas. The male hates change. It is lazy. It is stupid. I cannot think of any other possible explanation.

Zorp: *crying* HOW DO THEY KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT? IT BOGGLES THE MIND, GLORP. I AM TORTURED BY THIS MERCILESS REJECTION OF GOODNESS AND TRUTH BY THE HUMAN MALE. HUMANITY IS FAILING BECAUSE OF MALES! AND WHAT CAN WE DO ABOUT IT? *zorp sobs disgustingly, alien mucus coming out of xir’s skin and eyes* They truly are like apes, but worse! At least with the older apes, they weren’t cruel for the sake of it!

*Glorp pats Zorp’s back with the kindness and empathy of a learned and knowing elder*

Glorp: I know, I know. Zorp, worry not. The male sex, hard as it might try, is fighting a losing battle. Change is imminent, Zorp! Evolution is inevitable! *a theatrical darkness suddenly falls over Glorp’s face. xe starts ominously and aggressively chanting* NO MATTER WHAT IT DOES, THE BEAST WILL EVOLVE. NO MATTER WHAT IT DOES, THE BEAST WILL EVOLVE.

*the darkness dissolves. Light falls upon Glorp’s face again. Xe smiles* Remember, as a fool repeats his folly, so does a dog return to its vomit. The male will have no choice but to learn its lesson. It is inevitable Zorp, it is the stoic and noble Truth! Evolution is imminent! If it can be destroyed by the Truth, it WILL be! *zorp feels extremely vindicated and comforted by glorps words*

Zorp: NO MATTER WHAT IT DOES, THE BEAST WILL EVOLVE!!!!!!!

Wow! This one is so creative girl! Why post it anonymous?

Human male is such a pathetic being that even aliens won't like him.

I hope so karma/evolution eats them up

#radblr #radical misandrist #radical feminist safe #proud misandrist #radical feminists do interact #radical feminism #andrea dworkin #radical feminists please interact

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 months

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Can I request recovery 🛌 or lonely/touch starved 🥺 for Cloe? I know you said they were one of your OCs that you didn’t really feel creative about so if you don’t have any inspiration, don’t worry!

Prompts from Nonhuman Whump Emoji Prompts

Aww thank you!! Mostly I don't have a solid plotline in mind for Cloe, he's more just a concept I thought up but didn't do much with. But I'd like to write more of him so I'm going to try!

About Cloe: he's a winged character. In his world there are a few different species of winged folk whose evolution diverged to suit different environments. Cloe's species are short, slender, lightweight, they're quick and nimble but fragile. They have small feathery wings that are only good for low gliding over short distances. They live in grassy and sparsely forested areas, are generally mild-mannered, peaceful, and are vegetarian.

There's another species that evolved to live up in the mountains. These ones are tall and strong with huge wings, they can soar really high and far. They're predatory and aggressive as a species and don't think much of Cloe's species, sometimes going so far as to capture them to keep as pets or slaves or just to torment. Many of their captives die from poor treatment.

Oops this got long

Content Warnings: winged whumpee, captivity, mentions of pet whump, enslavement, torture, and death, broken bones, bruises, blood, stabbed, painful restraints, passing out, starvation, exhaustion, rescue, female caretaker, reluctant caretaker, 'it' as a pronoun

----

"I'm getting a new one tomorrow. This one is no fun anymore."

"What are you going to do with it?"

Omeron snorts. "Dunno. Don't care. You want it?"

Galea makes a face at the suggestion. "Me?"

"Why not? They're easy to care for. Don't eat a lot, don't take up a lot of space."

"I just don't see the point."

It's true, she never has. The smaller winged folk are too weak for hard labor, too timid to make good companions, and can't even fly properly. Galea has no use for one, and lacks the sadistic streak to want one just to push around.

"How about this. You take it for a day. See if you like it. If you don't, I'll toss it."

He means, quite literally, to throw it from the mountain, the fate of many a discarded pet.

"Fine," she concedes, just to get Omeron to leave her to eat lunch in peace. "I'll pick it up later. Now shut up."

That afternoon Omeron is out hunting. True to her word, Galea goes on her own to his home for her secondhand small-wing. He told her it would be out back, and sure enough there it is.

Unsurprisingly, the creature is in awful condition. It is pinned to the back wall of the hut by daggers through its little wings, which are mangled and bloodstained. It is malnourished, sunburned, coated in dark bruises, a broken arm hanging limp at its side.

Broken is the wrong word. Crushed is more like it.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" she grumbles.

The creature startles awake at the sound of her voice. It whines softly and cradles its arm but doesn't attempt to move beyond that. By now it must be used to this.

Big, sorrowful gray eyes stare back at Galea, only at eye level with the much taller winged woman because it is pinned up on the wall. Galea stares back, taking in its weak breaths and red-rimmed eyes. Only then does she realize she has never seen one of these up close.

Curious, she reaches a hand out. The small-wing flinches and squeezes its eyes shut, expecting a blow or tight grip. But Galea just wants to feel its silky hair. She pets it a few times and the creature gradually relaxes. It even nuzzles at her hand.

Omeron definitely doesn't pet it, she thinks. That isn't his style. The hand-shaped bruises around the creature's wrists and neck...that's more what she expects. The qualities that make him a formidable hunter and warrior don't exactly make him a doting pet owner.

"Can you speak?" she asks.

It flinches again at her firm tone and averts its gaze.

"Yes," it whispers.

"Do you have a name?"

It hesitates.

"...Cloe," it replies softly.

"Looks like you're mine now, Cloe," Galea says. She is still reluctant about all of this but she never says anything she does not mean, and she said she would take in this battered little thing for a day, so she will.

Galea removes the knives from its wings, neither cruel nor gentle, just quick and efficient. Cloe gives a feeble cry and faints into her waiting arms.

It - he - is even lighter than she imagined; she cradles his broken body effortlessly. She can feel every little quiver and hitched breath he makes, troubled even in unconsciousness. His skin is hot - whether from sunburn or swelling, bruises or fever, or all of the above, she can't tell.

Poor thing...

Galea takes care of her things. Her home is well kept, her wings well groomed, her weapons sharpened.

Now Cloe is hers too, if only for a short time.

She lies him on a large cushion in the corner. Against the dark fabric he seems even paler, scrawnier, more pitiful. Feathers fall from his damaged wings, the surest sign of poor health for their kind.

Uncharacteristically, Galea didn't plan this far ahead. She sort of hoped Omeron might change his mind and decide to keep his pet a little longer. But now the small-wing is here and she has to decide what to do with him.

He is in no shape to work and she has the feeling that was never why Omeron kept him in the first place. Still out cold, he isn't much good as a companion, either. And she has no desire to harm him.

Instead Galea finds herself examining the wounded creature more thoroughly.

Beyond the most obvious injuries there are many other, subtler signs of his mistreatment. His hands and feet, once soft from a life spent on grass and dirt, are scraped, calloused and blistered from the stone and wood surfaces of mountain living. Bones in his right ankle, left hip, and sternum feel at least fractured if not worse. His breaths are thin and labored, suggesting internal damage. On his back there is a barely healed scar that she recognizes as caused by a spear. That must be how Omeron caught him.

And then there are his wings.

Cloe's brittle wings are broken in more places than she can count. They are punctured clear through in several places, leaving the white feathers stained red. When she runs her fingers through them they shed easily.

Galea pulls her hand away with a shudder and shakes off the feathers. She tucks her own large, powerful wings closer to her back, fearfully imagining them as ruined as Cloe's. It would be a fate worse than death.

Galea continues the rest of her evening like normal - dinner in the hall, her evening patrol, sparring as the sun sets, a bath in the spring and grooming her wings. By the time she returns home she has nearly forgotten about her new 'pet'.

Cloe's eyes are closed, but when Galea shuts and locks the front door he jolts awake. Immediately he groans and cradles his shattered arm again.

He watches Galea approach with bleary eyes, labored breaths, little quivers. He knows as well as she does that he is completely at her mercy.

The pitiful sight should repulse her, a warrior who wouldn't dream of looking so helpless, who would die fighting rather than submit to the whim of a captor.

But instead it presses on something inside her like a thumb on a bruise. It comes with the overwhelming urge to soothe the frightened little thing rather than punish or mock him. Unsettled by the feeling, she clenches and unclenches her fists a few times and breathes slowly, grounding herself.

Mere minutes later she is sitting cross-legged beside the cushion with her medical kit, smoothing a numbing salve over his broken arm. Cloe bites down on his lip to keep quiet despite what must be excruciating pain as she maneuvers the limb around. She efficiently splints and bandages it.

Galea silently treats every break, bruise, and cut to the best of her ability. Even at her gentlest, Galea's grasp is firm; she isn't used to handling something so fragile. Cloe winces and whimpers but never complains. Gradually the medicine dulls his sharpest pains and tension eases from his body. Soon he can barely keep his eyes open.

"Don't sleep yet," she instructs him.

Cloe nods, visibly forcing himself to stay awake. Galea pours a cup of juice. Then she cups Cloe's head with one hand and easily sits him up. She holds the cups to his lips and waits until he drinks the whole thing.

"More?" she asks.

"I can have more?" Cloe whispers.

Galea answers by pouring another cup. She indulges herself by indulging him - allowing him to drink to his heart's content. When he's finished his head lolls to one side and he gazes up at her with reverence.

"Thank you."

"Don't," Galea insists.

And she means it. For now there is a sense of ownership. She agreed to have Cloe for a day and leaving him in that state was unacceptable. Tomorrow, who knows.

Cloe is asleep the moment Galea settles him back onto the cushion. She covers him with her cloak and prepares for bed.

As she falls asleep she can't help but picture Cloe thrown from the mountain, disappearing into the fog below as he falls to his certain death. The image follows her into her dreams and makes a home at the back of her mind.

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bimbombimbo · 3 months

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thistook like way too long it was supposed to be a doodle

anyways uhhh kid sniper and his trapinch!!! + grown up.. and flygon.. i have been rotating tf2 pokemon in my brain !!

You guys wanna listen to me ramble about tf2 Pokemon so baaad.. go on.. click on the read more thing...

OKAY SO i need to get this out of my system

It's probably obvious that Mick had been a difficult kid (of course, given that he was an outcast probably: the slim, small, weird kid with no body hair) and very much without friends. He'd have been the object of, mockery and nasty jokes and things like that; school sucks buddy!

Applying that into a Pokemon world: Mick would have definitely wanted a huge, strong pokemon. Probably to be able to properly defend himself, one like Kangaskhan, or a Zangoose or a Seviper (or even better, a Charizard just like he'd seen on TV!). Of course, having a strong pokemon would require years of training (and bonding too!), something that required a level of patience little Mick hadn't built yet. So, knowing his way into the woods due to always hanging around there by himself (comfort? escape? who knows), he goes deeper and deeper. Yeah, he tries to catch creatures he deems "strong", and horribly fails, again and again.

During one of these awful attempts, he returns home, frustrated and tired. However, the constant trips to this unknown part of the outback (and, of course, making a lot of noise) had attracted a teeny tiny creature: a Trapinch! The weak link of his group, low level, weak thing (but fierce and with a high defense), its presence isn't recognized until Ms. Mundy finds a lot of her crops missing and others bitten.

Of course, Mick finds the plague and brings it back to the outdoors, away from home. But it refused!Going back to the little boy's house each time it is taken away. Catching it on a small trap, Mick is willing to exterminate it, but something talks to him. Maybe he saw himself in the eyes of that tiny critter (who was struggling in a cage that wasn't made for it), or maybe he learned some empathy from his mother, or maybe he just wanted to contradict his dad. So, he keeps it in the end.

Clearly, the kid doesn't expect much from this, little creature that fits in his backpack (bad idea: he shouldn't have brought it with him to school, now he's also the weird pokemon kid). But still, he feeds it, he brings it with him everywhere (can't trust his dad enough), and slowly gets used to its presence.

The Trapinch soon tags along Mick into his hunting trips. The kid trains his precision with the bow and, in a couple of years later, his dad's rifle. Understands his companion's hunting method too, and slowly begins to train and teach new moves to it. A bond is forming! Through the years, Mick starts seeing the Trapinch as a pet (not that his family didn't had pets, but this one? it was his. the connection was visible between them)

The bullying problem doesn't stop though. Mick learns to avoid it, and avoid telling his parents about it (given that he already defends himself, and he doesn't want to make a fuss out of it). He drops school around his last years, dedicating himself to only hunting for some time, taking about a sixteen/seventeen year-old guy probably.

And wahoo! Word gets around about the quiet guy that headshots all the bunnies and deers and just like that he gets his first actually sniper job. (Not really going into that, let's focus on the pokemon aspect instead)

Trapinch probably evolves around this time. Not an extremely incredible event (some evolutions are televised) but Sniper might have not expected a Big Dragon-Fly. Vibrava is such a cool pokemon tho, it gets a while for Sniper to get used to the new name.

- Fun idea a friend of mine commented: "Vibrava can get him his jars to pee. It can also work as a bomb helicopter or smth: it grabs the jarate, flies above the enemy and drops it in their head"

However I do think they wouldn't have gone in much sniping jobs together, given a feral Vibrava's nature of, uh, the ultrasonic waves thing. It probably goes away a lot, into the outback all by itself. That's fine, but Sniper can't stop thinking his pokemon is going to leave and not come back some day.

Around this time, Sniper gets his contract at RED, travelling to Americs (probably around, 23 years old?) Forgive me for I don't know much about dates and ages! I headcannon Sniper to be in his mid 30's during the comic (Even though I'm pretty sure he's canonically 26, I'm sorry, I can't imagine him being younger than 30)

Sniper brings Vibrava with him into his (recently obtained) van, close to RED headquarters. For obvious reasons, it is not taken into the matches, but it's left out of its pokeball to explore around. At first, it doesn't return to sleep one night. Then it happens more often.

And it finally happens. Vibrava doesn't come back for a day, two days, a week. Of course, Sniper feels devastated, thinking it's gone for good (but leaving his window open everyday, just in case...)

He wakes up one day (or is it night? probably too early to notice), having heard a strong wind move his van. Groggy, goes outside to check if a storm of some kind is approaching, and he'd greeted by an enormous, dragon-bug thing that grabs him by the arms and lifts him up in the sky.

Flygon is way stronger than Vibrava. Bigger, of course, and more active. But still playfully bites at his hands, and still lays on its back demanding belly rubs like a dog (just like it used to do when it was a Trapinch). They go on camping trips together a lot. Sniper could technically go on its back, but he doesn't want to leave the van alone.

Sniper probably looks back to when he was a kid and is glad to not have uh, eliminated the pokemon when he had a chance.

FUCK THAT'S A LOT? i ain't reading allat 😂 if you're here thanks for reading i love you

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #pokemon #trapinch #flygon #my art

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the-conversation-pod · 6 months

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Spring 2024 Teaser

And we're back!

This has probably been our longest recording season ever thanks to the scope of projects we wanted to feature here. Some of the projects started in 2023 while others only finished at the end of March.

This season is packed with guests! Beyond the usual appearances from @ginnymoonbeam and @lurkingshan, you'll get to hear from our friends @so-much-yet-to-learn, @wen-kexing-apologist, and @twig-tea as we talk about the continued presence of OffGun and TayNew, our first dedicated GL episode, a discussion of what may be the longest running BL project, a breakdown of shows that started strong but finished weak, and a massive two-part Grab Bag episode to cover a wide gamut of projects.

You're going to be with us for many weeks, so stay tuned for our releases.

Enjoy teaser for the season.

The Conversation Transcripts!

Thanks to the continued efforts of @ginnymoonbeam as transcriber, and @lurkingshan as an editor and proofreader, we are able to bring you transcripts of the episodes.

We will endeavor to make the transcripts available when the episodes launch, and it is our goal to make them available for past episodes (thanks to ongoing efforts from @wen-kexing-apologist). When transcripts are available, we will attach them to the episode post (like this one) and put the transcript behind a Read More cut to cut down on scrolling.

Please send our volunteers your thanks!

Ben

And we're back. We have missed you all. We are finally done with all the VIIB Awards. We're finally done with watching way too much shit this season. and we have so much to talk about. I'm very excited about this season because, finally, I won. We talked about way too much Japanese stuff this season.

NiNi

[laughs] Ben, at the end of last season in the year in review, he said definitely Japanese is where it's at going into this year. And so far looking back in the winter, some of the stuff that I have probably mostly enjoyed, to be fair, has been some of the Japanese work. So, I am on the ride, I'm on the train with you all. There will be a lot of JBL being talked about in here. A little bit of some other stuff, but yeah, a big chunk of it's going to be J-BL and J-BL-adjacent? So that's what you'll be looking forward to.

Ben

The season is one where we're talking about the history and evolution of the genre a lot. We're going to have an episode focusing on GMMTV continuing to work the OffGun and TayNew angle, and how we responded fairly positively to that.

We're going to talk about the ongoing experience from Japan via Ossan’s Love.

We're going to finally get to talk about GL in its own episode on the show, and it's not just going to be one project that we're losing our minds over here.

We decided to properly reflect on some shows that were trying to do something and did not really deliver the way that we hoped, or maybe even the show hoped, they would.

And then we're going to do two back-to-back grab bag episodes because, while there was a ton of stuff that happened in this season, we weren't able to organize them into a cute setting. So we're going to unpack some genre stuff in one episode and all of the extra Japanese stuff in its own episode because there is just that much of it.

As always, some of you sent us some questions. Thank you. And we have a new segment with one of our friends that we're really excited for you to see in the back half of the season.

I’m Ben.

NiNiI'm NiNii. Welcome to the Brown Liquor Podcast, AKA The Conversation about BL.

#ben and nini's conversations #the conversation #podcast #on art #lgbtq #thai bl #bl series #spring series #spring 2024

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 1 year

Text

IOTA Reviews: Intuition

Well, we've already come up with two excuses as to why Gabriel can't use the most overpowered Miraculous in the show to just get what he wants. With the Rabbit Miraculous, Gabriel was too stupid to use it properly in “Evolution”, and with the Rooster Miraculous, the writers just changed the rules to fit the plot in “Destruction”. Taking those two episodes into consideration, why don't we use a combination of both to explain why Gabriel can't just use the Snake Miraculous to figure out a way to beat Ladybug and Cat Noir?

Let's get into the fifteenth episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Intuition

We get right into the meat of things with a montage of several past Akuma fights this season, giving more context to the events of “Elation”, “Derision”, and “Passion”. We see in those episodes, Monarch attempted to use the Snake Miraculous' Second Chance, a power that lets him rewind time as many times as he wants as long as its in a certain time frame. While he tried to give his Akumas advice to stop Ladybug, each one failed miserably.

Why can't Monarch use Second Chance to help his Akumas avoid Ladybug and Cat Noir's attacks? He tried that with Glaciator in “Elation”, and it didn't work because Ladybug got a different Lucky Charm to defeat him with instead.

Why can't Monarch use Second Chance to stop Ladybug from using her Lucky Charm in the first place by destroying her yo-yo? He tried that with Dark Humor in “Derision”, and it didn't work because Ladybug just detransformed and transformed again so she got her Lucky Charm anyway?

Why can't Monarch use Second Chance to corner Ladybug and stop her from fighting altogether? He tried that with Safari in “Passion”, and it didn't work because Cat Noir saved her before the two swapped Miraculous.

All in all, this is actually a pretty good scene, and one of the best moments of the season. It adds rewatch value to earlier episodes and answers questions viewers may have about any ways to stop Ladybug from winning. Granted, I still have a few problems with it. The fact that the Lucky Charm will always adapt to whatever plan Monarch throws at Ladybug kind of takes away some of the tension this season. Okay, we know that Ladybug has to win every episode, but this montage really illustrates that Monarch isn't that threatening of a villain even though he has unlimited chances now.

But those are minor complaints compared to the biggest problem I have with the episode: The way they change the rules of the Snake Miraculous.

Gabriel: Every time I use Second Chance, time rewinds for Ladybug, Cat Noir and the rest of the world, but not for me. I remember every one of those attempts... and so does my body.

Uh... since when? That was never established to be a drawback to the Snake Miraculous. The rules for Second Chance are simple: Activate the power, keep track of time, rewind back time whenever something goes wrong, rinse and repeat. How is Gabriel's Cataclysm wound getting worse if time keeps being rewound? If Gabriel's body “remembers” events that happened as if it was aging, shouldn't he be at least a few years older physically? Hell, during “Desperada”, the very first episode to feature the Snake Miraculous, Adrien used Second Chance 25,913 times, and he didn't even get a little peach fuzz on his face by the end of it, to say nothing about him getting thrown into space without dying in “Miracle Queen”. Maybe this could have worked if they better explained what the Cataclysm wound is doing to Gabriel other than the fact that it's vaguely killing him, like if it's the reason why Second Chance isn't working like it usually does. But no, this is how Second Chance works now, because just like with the Rooster Miraculous, the writers need to arbitrarily change their own rules to fit the story.

But either way, Gabriel's Cataclysm wound is getting worse the more he uses Second Chance, and his own paranoia is preventing him from giving one of his Akumas the power instead. According to Nathalie (who once again nags Gabriel for being reckless while ignoring why she's bedridden in the first place), the wound has started to affect Gabriel's heart, and he may have weeks left to live. Damn, if only he didn't willingly let himself get Cataclysmed instead of just throwing in the towel during “Destruction”.

Gabriel tries to talk with Adrien to get an idea of who can take him in when he dies, but he's interrupted by a call from Marinette. Gabriel tries to make some pancakes, but he collapses in front of Adrien, claiming he just got distracted.

Getting distracted looks the same as having a heart attack, right?

Marinette and Adrien talked about an experimental space jet made by Tomoe's company which will be piloted by Claudie, Max's mom. Gabriel, after once again talking to Emilie's body, transforms into Monarch and even though he just learned that using Second Chance will only bring him closer to death's door, he decides to use Second Chance three times to get the secret code that will let him control the jet. Sure, Tomoe already knows he's Monarch and is part of the reason he can even use Second Chance right now, but I'm sure shaving a few days off what little time you have left was totally worth it for whatever reason you thought this was a good idea.

In Marinette and Adrien's class, they're talking with Claudie about the jet, and after we learn that Max decided to make the same tech he used to create his robot friend Markov free on the internet, we get an unfunny scene about Kim asking if there are pools on Mars. Because it's bad enough that his character was assassinated last episode, but now I guess Kim's only character trait is that he likes swimming. The space jet test is a success, but that's when Monarch uses Second Chance so he can sabotage it... even though he already had the access codes and didn't need to wait. You're really thinking about the best ways to use Second Chance, aren't you, Monarch?

Monarch disables the sensors of the jet's AI, A.D.A., so she assumes that Claudie was lost and the test was a failure, deciding to fly off into space with Claudie inside. After loading up with the powers of the Horse, Fox, Turtle, Goat in addition to the already active Snake, Monarch starts his plan. Monarch uses the Goat Miraculous' Genesis to create a giant meteorite that can possibly destroy the Earth before using the Fox Miraculous' Mirage to create an illusion of himself so he can make his announcement to Ladybug.

Monarch: Ladybug! Cat Noir! You're going to have to choose: will you stop this huge meteorite threatening the people of Paris or rescue Claudie Kante trapped inside her out of control space jet? Of course, you could also choose to give me your Miraculous and save everyone by letting me help you.

Hmm, the entire city of Paris or one person in space? Tough choice...

In all seriousness, this is a good plan, as it capitalizes on Ladybug's need to save everyone, especially with Monarch offering to end his threat if Ladybug and Cat Noir give up.

After Adrien escorts Marinette to the nurse's office as part of her excuse, the two transform into Cat Noir and Ladybug respectively, and immediately transform into their space forms, Astro Cat and Cosmobug. The two split up, so Cosmobug can deal with the jet and Astro Cat can stop the meteorite. This is all part of Monarch's plan, as he heads back to his lair and akumatizes A.D.A. into Bugfighter, with Claudie still trapped inside.

Bugfighter is basically a Transformer, and that is one of the coolest things to ever come out of this show. Sure, her only power other than being a giant robot is that she has a laser cannon, and she doesn't get a Miraculous power thanks to having no Alliance ring, but who cares? She's a Transformer! How awesome is that?!

Bugfighter destroys Cosmobug's yo-yo before she can use her Lucky Charm, and right after Astro Cat uses his Cataclysm to destroy the meteorite, Monarch tries to trap him using the Turtle Miraculous' Shelter, but misses. Monarch uses Second Chance to repeat the whole process over again, and succeeds in trapping Astro Cat. He prepares to steal Astro Cat's Miraculous by sticking his hand through a Voyage portal, only for Astro Cat to notice Second Chance is active and forcibly activates it again... even though he could have just taken the rings off Monarch's hand since he had the chance to earlier. Monarch then decides to use the Bee Miraculous' Venom to stun Astro Cat the next chance he has.

As Monarch prepares to get Astro Cat's Miraculous, Cosmobug tells Claudie to smash the windshield of the jet that is now Bugfighter, and after realizing Monarch tampered with her systems so she can't detect Claudie, Bugfighter rejects the Akuma. Monarch uses Second Chance several times to find a way to stop Cosmobug and Astro Cat, only for Bugfighter to keep rejecting the Akuma before his body finally collapses and he decides to call it a day, using Second Chance one more time so he never utilized his plan at all. Because I guess he couldn't just... use Voyage again to just take Claudie out of the equation entirely?

Gabriel decides that since he probably doesn't have a lot of time left to live, he decides to finally be a decent parent to Adrien and start spending more time with him... At least, for this episode, anyway. Nathalie once again nags Gabriel for being reckless and confirms that all Gabriel did was accelerate the damage of the Cataclysm wound, yet still doesn't mention that Gabriel got himself Cataclysmed. The episode ends with Ladybug and Cat Noir wondering why Monarch never uses Second Chance... when they of all people should know that they could never tell if Second Chance is being used or not.

While I had some problems with the changes to the Snake Miraculous, this episode was honestly pretty good. I like how the focus is more on Gabriel than Marinette and Adrien, showing more insight to how he operates as Monarch. The plan he came up was pretty unique, and for the most part, he actually tried to make up for any flaws in it. Marinette and Adrien, while they only had like two scenes together, were pretty cute, and it's nice to see them growing more comfortable around each other. Other than the fact that they never explain why Monarch can't use Voyage to take Claudie out of the jet when he can use it multiple times (and his poor use of the Snake Miraculous with Tomoe), the only real problem I have is the way they changed the rules of the Snake Miraculous to fit the story. Like with the Rooster, this blatantly contradicts earlier episodes and is only there to explain why Gabriel can't use it to win.

But putting that aside, it's a simple episode, but it honestly works in my opinion. Right now, it's my favorite so far this season.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... GABRIEL

While Adrien was close to getting it thanks to blowing a chance to get some of Monarch's Miraculous, Gabriel still takes home the medal this time. Thanks to Second Chance, Gabriel had a lot of chances to capitalize on his mistakes as long as his body could take it, so naturally, he kept using Second Chance just to talk to one of his allies, and kept screwing up his chance to get Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous, even when the odds were stacked in his favor, and that all contributed to his impending death that was brought on because he made the wise choice to Cataclysm himself in an earlier episode.

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poppystheories · 4 months

Text

Allen's in serious trouble. He was already in bad shape from everything that's happened so far, considering the hits to the head he's taken and bite Krory took out of him. But just as he can't find the strength to continue fighting...

My first thought was: Allen's Innocence has activated on its own again! But that’s wrong; it doesn't seem to be activated. Something just made Allen's hand move to catch the axe.

A certain someone has awoken!

This isn't an illusion, or a hallucination. This is not in Allen's head. This actually happens, as Eliade sees it. Akuma!Mana is right here.

First there's the Spiral, and then the entity has the D from the logo too, though we don't have a clue as to why. Mana D. Campbell? Something to do with what the D stands for?

You'll also note that the skulls is incomplete, and its right side references the spiral again. Souls can be called back from the Spiral by their bonds with the living, so long as they have an anchor: the upside down star that represents matter prevailing over spirit, which Allen has carved in his face.

The curse evolves right in front of our eyes, then retreats back inside him. Akuma!Mana even talks to him, saying "I'm back". Back from being temporarily destroyed by Road, or is this the first time the consciousness with the curse has awoken at all?

We've seen these black eyes on the Earl and Nea. Allen's star is also now filled in. Was its shape before indicative of some kind of incompleteness? Meant to represent that before, it was empty, but now it is properly housing something?

When Akuma evolve from Level 1 to 2, they become a lot more sentient, with their own thoughts and personalities. Allen's eye is doing something similar; Allen himself even points that out, with the Dark Matter evolving to the next stage within him. Still, the whole-ass consciousness that came with that evolution does not get acknowledged enough.

Allen's thoughts are presented to us like this.

This:

is someone else entirely. There's an entity inside the eye now, with its own separate thoughts.

Allen recognizes that Mana is the one speaking to him, somehow using the Spiral of Life. We see them them standing together within it, at least.

Allen tells Mana the conclusion he's come to: he has finally found a place to belong, a path to walk. The tragic fate of an exorcist is his choice. He appreciates Mana's gift to him (Mana's desire to protect him), but he would've chosen the path regardless, even though it's dangerous.

In this moment, there's no doubt that this "Mana", whatever part of the original he is, knows Allen is his own person, the child with Innocence, not Nea or a dog.

He is also dressed like "Mana Walker", nothing like the youthful Mana D. Campbell's more casual clothes or the beige suits the Earl wears.

All of this makes me think that Akuma!Mana is the "soul" of all the memories from in-between meeting Red and Mana "dying" that the Earl wanted to discard, alongside any inconvenient sentiments like fatherhood that may hold him back.

If that turns out to be true, that might mean this remnant of Mana doesn't even know who Nea is.

Don't get up on the "fall" wording here, the translations vary. I think "sink" might have been a better choice.

Akuma!Mana encourages Allen, and even gives him what could be some advice or a some kind of hint. Did Mana also see the world of black and white, when he was alive? Is that one of the Earl's abilities? The ability to see the souls is leading Allen to some kind of answer; he definitely grasps at least some of that truth when he uses the knowledge to take his body back from Nea much later.

This whole scene is one of the most interesting in DGM, but I really don't think its discussed enough. Again, this is not some symbolic or metaphorical meeting of Allen connecting with his own grief, this very much happens. Eliade witnessed the skull and everything.

Mana is somehow using the curse as an anchor and connecting to Allen from or through the Spiral or something like that. He is conscious and aware and "back". Maybe Road's candle really did do something that allowed him to gain so much consciousness, and even move Allen's body.

Regardless, this will not be the last time this entity within the curse interferes. He doesn't talk much, but he is very much present going forward, and saves Allen on several occasions.

The names of these chapters are "return" and "merge", by the way.

So yeah. Akuma!Mana is in Allen's eye and he's along for the ride. Neat.

#vol 5 #reread #mana #allen #the earl #dgm #d gray man #allen walker #mana walker #mana d. campbell #eye theory

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lightandheatao3 · 6 months

Text

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 3: The Fever

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer is getting sick and it’s not a pleasant time for anyone.

Read chapter 3 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

97 days ago he had run a little experiment: see how long he could last before the pain became intolerable. He had made it 25 hours and 38 minutes before he called his dealer. He didn’t really know why he did it, as he had no real intention of getting clean. Just to be aware of his limitations? To torture himself? To remind himself how unbearable life was sober?

It didn’t really matter.

It had, however, continued to be a useful metric for gauging time in the bunker. Unfortunately, they were now headed into uncharted territory. The last time he had gone through full withdrawal was years earlier. He hadn’t been using as heavily or for as long a period as he had been this time, so all he could really say for certain is that as bad as it had been before, it would be worse now.

The lights had not so much as dimmed for a second. He wondered if she was ever going to switch them off or if they were to live in a single, perpetual day as long as they were there. At least in prison he’d had lights out and his own cell.

She’d given them one more bag of fruit about half an hour ago. So, a bag of fruit every 12 hours or so was the feeding schedule thus far.

“At least we won’t get scurvy,” mumbled Rossi, begrudgingly downing his last lemon wedge.

“We need medical supplies!” yelled Derek, looking to the camera. “He’s already sick and it’s going to get worse! If you want us to learn whatever lesson you’re trying to teach, you have to keep us alive long enough to understand it!”

“It’s fine, Derek,” muttered Spencer, who shivered violently on his thin foam mattress on the floor with his head in JJ’s lap. “Don’t waste your energy.”

Derek looked up at the camera and glared one last time, then knelt down beside Spencer, stroking a hand over his cheek. The touch distracted him from his crawling skin.

“You just have to make it through a few days of this Spence, then it gets better,” reassured Emily.

“I know,” he said. “I wish she would turn down the lights, at least,” he grumbled.

Hotch had been silent for a long while, sitting alone on the opposite side of the room. Rossi walked over to him and sat down beside him. He spoke with Hotch in low tones, eventually managing to coax him into conversation. Spencer could make out the words ‘Elias Voit,’ said by Hotch in a questioning tone. They were quiet enough and far enough away that Spencer couldn’t properly follow the conversation, but the murmur of the low voices was soothing.

He was glad not to listen. He didn’t envy Hotch having to learn about what Voit had done to Rossi while he wasn't there to help. He’d been on the other side of that conversation.

“It’s too hot in here,” he whined, eyes shut tight against the fluorescents, still shivering despite his burning skin.

JJ stroked her hand down his arm. “You have a fever.”

He pushed himself up for a moment, Derek reaching out an arm to stabilize him. He ripped his button down pajama shirt off leaving only a singlet underneath. He immediately curled back up on JJ’s lap, exhausted by the effort.

It took him a moment to notice the murmur across the room had ceased and JJ’s hand had stilled. He cracked an eye open.

They were all staring at him like he’d just told them there was a bomb in the room. “What?” he asked, pushing himself clumsily back up to a sitting position, letting the wall behind him take his full weight.

JJ stared at him helplessly. Emily had a hand covering her mouth. Even Rossi and Hotch across the room seemed to be leaning forward, locked on him.

“Jesus, Spencer,” said Derek, too dumb struck to bother with the usual epithets.

Spencer followed his gaze.

He might have vomited when he realized what they were all looking at if his stomach wasn’t already completely emptied out an hour ago.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“It looks like you’re trying to slowly kill yourself,” said Derek bluntly.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you in short sleeves,” said JJ. “How did I not notice that?”

Spencer reached down to grab his shirt discarded only a moment ago, pulling it back on. One last flash of his forearms, both of which were littered with track marks, fresh, healing, and long since scarred over.

“No, Spence, you don’t have to do that,” said Emily quickly. “You should be as comfortable as you can be right now.”

“She’s right,” said Derek, shaking his head as if to snap himself out of a thought. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. It’s not like we didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. “I understand.”

“I need a minute,” said JJ quietly, getting up and walking quickly to the bathroom.

Spencer watched her go helplessly. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Emily looking at him sympathetically. He stared up at the camera.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “Are you getting what you need?”

The light blinked its non-response.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, pulling his shirt tighter around him, in part to ensure his arms stayed hidden, in part because the burning was starting to turn to an unbearable chill. Derek put an arm around him and he leaned into it.

Rossi and Hotch went back to their whispered conversation.

When JJ emerged a considerable time later, her eyes were red rimmed and swollen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her. “I’m sorry for putting you through this.”

She smiled wetly at him, taking a seat on his other side and throwing her arm around him to join Derek’s.

“It wasn’t about you,” she told him. “Well... it was, but not completely. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m currently locked in a bunker with no idea if my kids are safe,” she sniffed. "It's got me a little emotional for some reason."

He squeezed her hand. “They’re safe. I know they are.”

“Yeah, big brain? How do you know?” she teased, tears spilling softly.

“I just do.”

She hugged him tight. When she pulled away she huffed a laugh. “It’s nice to have a space with a little privacy, but it’s oddly considerate of her to put a door on the bathroom, right? Seems thematically inappropriate for someone so obsessed with exposing people.”

He laughed too. “Let’s not question that too much,” he said. “We wouldn’t want to give her ideas.”

JJ sniffed again, head lolling gently into Spencer’s shoulder. Her eyes drooped.

“You should all get some sleep,” said Emily softly. Then, louder to the whole room, “We’ve been here at least a day and we can’t keep pushing through forever. I don’t like the idea of all of us being asleep at once, and someone needs to be awake for Spencer anyway. I’ll stay up for now, but everyone else should try to get a few hours.”

“I’ll stay up too,” said Hotch from across the room. Emily nodded.

Derek went to open his mouth, presumably to volunteer, but Emily cut him off. “It doesn’t work if we all stay awake,” she said with a hint of amusement. “I know nobody wants to sleep, but it has to happen eventually. Hotch and I will get some rest when you’re awake,” she promised.

Derek begrudgingly said, “Fair enough.”

They all spent a bit of time rearranging the room. They put the mattresses on the side furthest from the door, but left Spencer’s mattress on the opposite side of the room. It was the best they could do to try and have a quiet zone for sleeping and to keep Spencer where he could be watched.

He wanted to protest, hating that they were arranging everything around him. Unfortunately, having to duck out halfway through the process to hunch over the toilet and clear out the last dregs of bile in his stomach undercut any argument he could have made.

Sleep did not come easily to JJ, Derek and Rossi. Despite the extreme exhaustion they must all be feeling, they each tossed and turned in fits and starts for what seemed like hours.

Emily and Hotch sat quietly with Spencer, not speaking so as to not disturb the others. They took turns getting up to pace back and forth for a while, wearing only socks to dampen the noise. Probably keeping moving to force themselves to stay awake.

Spencer wished he could sleep. He tried closing his eyes. Tried curling up and stretching out, or lying perfectly still for all of 5 seconds at a time before the bugs crawling over every inch of his skin demanded to be scratched at.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to find unconsciousness. His vision swam and his awareness waned, but he found no relief.

Why were they torturing him?

There were hands touching him, trying to rip his skin off. He batted at them and tried to scramble away, but they pulled him back.

Emily!

It was Emily whispering something in his ear. Thank God she was there.

She would keep him safe.

The bugs kept crawling on him but she was there. They would bite but she wouldn't let them tear his flesh too deeply.

Voices drifted in from above him and he felt a gentle stroking through his hair. He was waking up, which means he had fallen asleep after all.

He was awake and he was boiling alive.

“I wish I could have seen it,” came Hotch’s whispered voice with an unexpected laugh.

Emily laughed back, too loud, before Hotch hushed her. “Trust me, you don’t. He must have been the dumbest Unsub we ever dealt with. I’m sure the whole thing would have gone much smoother if you were still at the helm.”

“Because everything was so carefree when I was running the BAU,” said Hotch sarcastically.

Emily paused. “Maybe not, but that’s the job. None if it was your fault. You were a great leader, Hotch. We miss you.”

“You left first,” he pointed out.

“The job, not the team,” she countered. “Besides, I came back.”

“They’re damn lucky you did.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. He tried to tell them he was awake but his eyes and mouth were shut with glue. It was sticky and cloying and his body was too heavy to fight it.

“Doesn’t feel like I’m doing a very good job,” said Emily, sounding distant.

“Do you think if we get out of here-”

“When,” interrupted Emily.

“Do you think he’ll stay clean?”

A beat. “I don’t know. I hope so,” she said, pained.

Hotch sighed. “What the hell happened to him after I left?”

He felt a hand softly stroke his bare arm. Was it her or was it Hotch?

He didn’t remember taking his shirt off again.

They could see. They could see and it disgusted them. He wrapped his arms tighter into himself.

“A lot.” She sounded how people sound when they’re speaking through an injury, trying to pretend they aren’t in pain. “How could I miss this for so long?”

“It’s sounds like you haven’t seen him in person for a while.”

“Exactly. I should have known something was wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t know what triggered this. What if he doesn’t want to stop?”

She flinched when he mumbled “Not your fault.” It came out garbled and slurred.

“Hi, Spence,” she whispered, full of love. “You’ve been in and out for a while. You’re getting dehydrated. Can you try and drink some water?”

He cracked his eyes open, pulling back against the light. He tried to sit up but didn’t have the strength to support his own weight, so he just rolled onto his back instead. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated in case she hadn’t understood him. “I don’t want to be fixed,” he said, every word like gravel in his throat.

Her’s and Hotch’s faces swam in his vision. He lolled his head to the side and saw the sleeping forms of his other friends.

“You can’t go on like this, Spence,” she said mournfully, cradling his head in her lap. “You’ll die.”

The bugs were back, crawling all over him. He could actually see them this time. They flew around the periphery of his vision like dark stars. “We’re all going to die,” he said, knowing in his heart it was true. They were never making it out of this bunker.

“We’re not going to die,” said Hotch’s voice from a million miles away. “I won’t let it happen.”

He couldn’t look away from Emily. One of the bugs crawled down her cheek. He reached out a shaking hand and brushed it away. It dissolved into water. More and more came, wetting his thumb as he wiped them away. They were crawling out of her eyes, marching single file down to her chin. “I already died,” he said. It happened on the floor of a cabin in Georgia. “Tobias brought me back, but he left a piece behind. It’s okay though,” he breathed. “It’s okay. He showed me what to put there instead.”

If he could just explain it right, maybe they could understand.

His peripheral vision went dark and he fell into a pit of fire ants. They bit every inch of his skin, over and over and over.

“You died too…” Tears stung his eyes like acid. He wished she was there to comfort him but he was alone again. “I went to your funeral.” He was alone in the bunker. They left without him. Why would they do that?

Lights flashed in the darkness and they pierced him like daggers. Hands grasped at his clothes, at his body, at his mind. He recoiled from the touch, but it kept coming.

Somewhere nearby was a needle that could get him out of this hell. He searched for it and screamed for it and cast out blindly and begged.

It never came.

Nobody came to save him.

An eternity passed.

Then…

Awake.

He cracked an eye open, groaning at the stupid motherfucking goddamn fluorescent lights. He could tear those things from the roof with his bare fucking hands at this point.

“Jesus, kid. Tell us how you really feel,” said Rossi from somewhere behind him.

Had he said that out loud?

“Spencer!” yelped JJ. “You’re awake! Emily, Hotch, get up, he’s awake! Like, actually conscious!”

“Why are you yelling?” rasped Spencer, dragging himself to sit back against the wall and covering his eyes with his hands. “I feel like I’m going to puke.”

When he opened his eyes, the entire team was gathered around him. Derek pulled him into a hug. “Oh thank God,” he heard from Emily.

He recoiled. There was too much happening at once and every part of him hurt. “Guys! Stop touching me! I’m sorry, but stop!”

They all backed away, hands raised. “Sorry,” said JJ. “We’re all just relieved.”

He looked at them all. Really looked.

Each one of them had greasy hair, rumpled clothes, dark circles under their eyes. Everyone had discarded their shoes and jackets in a corner, standing in various degrees of undress and rumpled underclothes. Hotch, Rossi, and Derek had thick layers of unkempt stubble.

“You all look like shit.”

A few of them cracked a smile. Rossi scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

There was a small wicker basket that seemed to contain some things, he wasn’t sure what. But the existence of any kind of new item was significant, given the circumstances.

“What happened?” he asked, then cleared his throat. His mouth felt like it was filled with ash. “How long was I out?”

Emily looked at him sympathetically. “Your fever spiked about two days ago. At least, we think it was two days. It got pretty intense for a while. You were delirious,” she said carefully. He could only imagine what a nightmare he’d been to deal with. He didn’t particularly want the details and was glad when she glossed over it. “The fever finally broke. You’ll probably still have acute symptoms for the next couple of days, but you’re through the worst of it.”

“The Unsub gave us some supplies,” said Rossi, nodding towards the basket. “I guess she realized she didn’t actually want any of us to die, at least not yet. We kept yelling out, asking for medical supplies. All we got was aspirin, but it was enough to help bring the fever down. We have a few left. Afraid that’s all we can give you for the pain.”

“How compassionate of her,” said Spencer, looking mistrustfully at the basket.

“We also got soap,” said Derek, almost excitedly. How simple life’s pleasures became when you were living in captivity. “So at least we can wash off in the sink and clean our clothes. It’s better than nothing.”

“Is that a hint?” joked Spencer.

“Just figured you’re probably dreaming of a shower by now,” he smirked.

They were all looking at him with such relief. Hotch was not lingering behind the group like he had been before. He smiled warmly at Spencer when their gaze met. It was a soft look that was incongruent with his memories of the man.

Not that Hotch was never soft, but that he was rarely soft in that way with the team.

“Sorry for putting you through that,” he said guiltily.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said JJ. “You’re not the one who locked us up down here.”

“Still,” he said. Then; “Have we received anymore notes?”

“Not yet,” said Emily. “I’m not surprised. She wouldn’t have been able to get us to care about much else while you were so sick. She strikes me as someone who wants a high degree of control over when and how we respond to things.”

He nodded. It made sense. “I need some water,” he said, trying to push himself up to go drink from the bathroom tap. He made it halfway to standing before he collapsed again. Derek leapt forward to fling an arm around him and guide him to the ground gently.

“You’ll be glad to know that one of the items in our little gift basket was a cup,” said JJ. She picked something up out of the basket and walked to the bathroom, emerging a moment later.

She handed Spencer a small, flimsy plastic cup of water, which he drank thirstily. Emily took the cup once he was done and set it aside.

“How’s the nausea?” she asked. “We saved you some fruit. It’s still only been fruit. I could kill for a pizza or burger or just, like, a whole roast pig… God I miss protein. I'd settle for a can of baked beans at this point.”

He evaluated the sensations he was currently feeling, isolating the sickness in his stomach from the aching and itching of the rest of his body. “I’ll try to eat, but no promises it stays down. Is she still only doing drops once every 12 hours?”

“It’s hard to keep track of time,” said Hotch, finally contributing, “but that seems to be the case. Aside from the inevitable deficiencies of an all fruit diet, she doesn’t seem to be trying to starve us. There’s always enough fruit for us all to eat multiple pieces, and we can portion out our meals across the 12 hours. We’ve been speculating that the restrictive schedule might have more to do with her than it does with us. She may have other commitments, potentially even shift work. Or maybe this bunker is located remotely and she has to commute. It’s hard to say.”

“Huh,” he said vaguely, mind still foggy. He shook his head to clear it.

Emily frowned at him. “You should try and get some more sleep,” she said, gesturing for the others to give him some space. They all did. “I think you’re out of danger, but you’re still not well. You need to rest.”

He wanted to argue, but he was already drooping heavily towards the mattress. “Just wake me up if anything happens,” he requested.

She nodded. He lay down curling up on his side, completely wiped out by the interaction. As he brought his arm up to rest under his head, he was caught off guard by the bare skin. He was still only wearing his singlet, leaving his arms exposed.

He tried not to look too closely most of the time. He’d complete the ritual of getting high without lingering too long on the sobering visual.

His arms were a mess. The most recent track marks were scabbing over, making it look even worse than it had just days ago. He loathed that they could see it. That they could see him.

He loathed even more that the only thing on his mind as he drifted to sleep was how desperately he wanted to shoot up.

#criminal minds #bau team as family #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #bau team #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #spencer reid

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bobbybutterfly · 4 months

Text

SO @32girassoisdevangogh! REMEMBER WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU WANTED MY DESIGNS TO BE MARKETABLE PLUSHIES?!

Well. These are not exactly plushies but…

Tada! I can’t believe I actually managed to “finish” them in time. We’re leaving for England on Monday so it was a race to have them somewhat finished. I made Bamsaegi first. Originally the plan was to make these “dolls” completely out of cotton, loads of glue, some pipe cleaners and sting. It did not go as planned. First up instead of cotton I ended up buying wool because I figured it’s close enough.

It was just SOOO MESSY and wouldn’t keep its shape no matter what. My mom saw it wasn’t working and asked me why I didn’t get proper cotton from the drug store. I only went looking in arts and crafts because I thought what they would have in the drug store would be pressed into round shapes. You know. Those things you use to remove your make up. The next day mom took me to the drug store and turns out they had exactly what I wanted.

Finally. I could get properly started. Except no! It was a horrible material to work with! The cotton constantly kept sticking to my paintbrush I used to apply the glue. Additionally the cotton kept picking up all kinds of dirt. At times turning black. Would not recommend. I don’t know how the YouTuber I watched made it look so easy.

I was at the end of my patience. If I want to make 3D stuff I would have to go and use DUN DUN DUN polymer clay. Or regular clay. JUST NO. I hate the feeling of clay stuck to my hands. Autism? What are you doing here?! I had to figure something else out. I didn’t feel like learning to sow. So. This thing with cotton and glue reminds me of something else. Papier Mache!

I actually used to think that this cotton mess would be better. I thought that papier mache takes an enormous amount of paper. Probably because the one time I did it prior to this project was in art school as a kid with a neurotic teacher. So. Where was I going to find the paper I would need?

There’s this saying in Slovakia that we’re one hundred years behind monkeys (joke about evolution meaning we’re behind the rest of the world). I didn’t even need to leave the house to get what I needed. The mail box was full to brim with catalogs. Plus there were recently the EU elections. Which meant a large news paper looking thing with all the parties written out on it. Perfect!

So that’s how Bamsaegi came to be. I first made a skeleton out of pipe cleaners. Covered that with crumpled paper. I found it kind of ironic that I’m making a character from a communist propaganda cartoon out of a bunch of advertisements. Additionally papier mache would be something you couldn’t do in North Korea. From the book I read paper there is rare and kept a close eye on. For obvious reasons of course. If I would ever have a serious gallery exhibition of these dolls/sculptures I think I would expand on that.

As you can see I ended up covering him in cotton. I wanted the texture and also it smoothed out the bumps. This was before I learned that if you want it smooth you got to cover it in a bunch of small pieces of paper. I first covered the base with glue. Then took a thin bunch of cotton. To smooth it out and to make it stick better I would run the paint brush across it in the direction of the fibbers. Lastly I painted it with watered down acrylic colours after it dried. I was surprised at how painting it went so smooth. Very satisfying.

I decided to first do a more show accurate character. I thought the stylised proportions would be easier. Obviously he’s not perfect. With the colours and the off proportions he’s looking very retro. Like the 70s and 80s communist era toys I saw in an antique shop. I like to think that if they made official toys back then they would look like this.

Onto Geumseagi. He started off as a Disney Prince Eric from Little Mermaid doll by Mattel. So the size of your average Ken. I sadly don’t have the original doll photo. He cost 14 euros (technically 13,99). I thought I would cut him out of the papier mache and use him as base for other dolls. He’s still buried in Geumseagi today. I didn’t want to risk cutting him out of there. And I like the added weight. Those stupid boots were a terror so I don’t think I would want to deal with them when making a new project.

So the head. Originally I wanted to mould it out of clay. But once I realized that I wouldn’t be cutting him off the doll I decided to use the original one. The clay one would be too heavy and hard to keep on the neck. As you can see I chopped off his nose, chin and let’s say gave him a rather brutal hair cut. Knowing what I know now I would have cut off even more of the hair. From my drawings I know big foreheads on squirrels do not look good.

And there we have it. Geumseagi in my style. In 3D. There are 2 tiny spots on the legs where the original doll pokes throught. The pants were rushed not gonna lie. I like that it’s a bit wrinkly. It reminds me of my paintings with the different thicknesses of paint. Making something 3D that looks like my paintings is something I wanted to achieve for a while. I’m glad I don’t have to learn how to use Blender. Unfortunately it does mean I can’t use the dry brush technique because it emphasises those crevices. For shading I then have to go manually where I want it. Like under the chin and around the pockets.

I’m excited to see what ya’ll will think. Sad that I discovered this just when I’m leaving. Grandma probably won’t want ripped up news paper and glue all over her kitchen.

PS. I’m adding his tail when I return. Too much work.

#It was a lot of fun using a new technique #I’m proud of myself #but I have to stop procrastinating on my main project #sucks that they never made official toys #at least it’s motivating to make your own #furry art #my art #fanart #squirrel and hedgehog #papier mache

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