#and so is making a mockery of what humans are capable of both with their bodies and technology

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 52

(Grim needs help to put on the Diasomnia uniform due to the many belts and clasps that need to be fiddled with. Lilia designed the uniform and ensured that it was long enough to cover Grim's paws in an attempt to make it cuter on the kit.)

Warnings: yandere, multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, platonic yandere vs romantic yandere, inky related problems, glimpses into the past, heavy subject matter

~~~~

Dropping into the scene you did was as disorienting as being teleported suddenly into it. The walls were creaking and groaning in strain from the intense winds outside, rain pelted the building and almost cracked several windows. Outside the sky was a sickening black and green as the trees barely seemed capable of staying rooted due to the weather.

You had been dropped into this scene with little understanding of who it was that was close to Overblot, but that was quickly answered. The elder Shinigami was burning an intense red, the color abnormal on the typically placid male as his flames seemed to engulf his upper half. It was more than slightly unnerving to see the male so angered as he had been a consistently calm and patient soul whenever you interacted with him. Even his black wings were engulfed in fire that crackled and let off an intense heat.

Across from him- and more than likely the cause of this anger- was Malleus. Malleus' face was almost engulfed in black scales, his lips pulled back in a toothsome mockery of a sneer as a deep reptilian hiss rumbled from his chest. His tail slammed on the flooring and splintered several floorboards from the force of his strength. The Dragon's electric green eyes smoldered in their sockets as he let out another guttural snarl.

Both looked ready to attack at a moments notice.

You saw Alexandros using his wings and figure to shield Lilia as the two huddled close, buffeted by the sheer strength of the two males. If this was allowed to continue, one or both would Overblot and Sage Island would be destroyed in the wake of their battle. Though you could potentially stop an Overblot, you knew you had very little chance of being able to stop an Overblotted Malleus or Hades.

What could possibly snap them out of this anger? What even caused them to be so furious with one another?

It didn't really matter at the moment. What mattered was saving every innocent life on Sage Island, even if the cost could potentially be deeper than you anticipated. It always seemed to be.

As you moved to get between the two, Papa Hades was acutely aware of your presence on what was quickly becoming a battlefield. Instead of rage, fear filled his eyes as he realized the very real danger you were in. Where the elder could have soundly subdued the Dragon on his own with limited casualties, you could very easily be one of those casualties now that you were present.

An inky substance was starting to form around Malleus' eyes and mouth, his entire body pulsing with anger as it began to slowly infest his veins. It seemed to blind the Dragon that pulsed with dark energy. As more inky blot began to leak from his mouth and eyes, a sickening feeling settled in your gut. The goal was to stop the Overblot and the storm without death taking any of these volatile beasts.

A faint sensation tugged at the back of your mind, an odd feeling overcoming your body as if every ounce of fear had been turned off. There was a kind of settled numbness seemed to float around you as you faced the Dragon that held his head in agony. Malleus was being consumed by his fears and anxieties manifested into reality.

Outside the storm raged and the entire world seemed to scream in anguish for Malleus. He wasn't the only one who would suffer from his Overblot and you couldn't allow that. You were in the best position to calm him without anyone dying.

You had managed it so far, and if it worked for Vil...

It felt like sound had turned off around you as you approached Malleus, the Dragon staring up at you with blackened eyes and agony on his face. Part of your hyper aware mind understood that there was an intense threat to your continued existence the closer you got to him. A smaller part of you understood that it was likely Malleus who stepped out of line with Papa Hades, but it was also Malleus who would kill others before calming. There was a kind of resignation to the way you approached the Dragon, knowing what you had to do and why.

You didn't even hear the others calling your name as floorboard ripped up around you in what felt like slow motion.

As your arms wrapped around the Dragon, you could feel him tense and writhe for a moment. The ink around his eyes seemed to lessen for only a moment before pulsing further through his veins. There was no other option you could see now, as your proximity alone was not enough to calm the Dragon.

He seemed to be fighting himself in an effort to regain control but he was losing the battle. Perhaps, with your direct intervention or sacrifice, you could stop this before it became a tragedy.

Just as it was with Vil, the moment your lips touched Malleus' there was an overwhelming flood of blot into your mouth and eyes. It was painful as the blot eagerly pushed past your tongue to take residence deeper within your body and flood your very being with the dark ichor. Even as your figure writhed out of your control, you could feel your body going limp in the arms of the Dragon. The last thing you saw as darkness consumed your vision was a pair of horrified green eyes.

~•§•~

Malleus was wrenched from the suffocating shadows back into his proper state of mind. Like breaching the surface of a frozen lake, he was left gasping for air yet unable to take in a breath. A metallic tasting ink was bubbling up from his lungs and from his mouth with near agonizing pain as the world fell back into place around him.

The wind slowed to a stop as the storm died down almost instantly, leaving him to try and piece together his frazzled and fractured mind. What had been enemies abound faded away into the worse for wear dorm he knew as belonging to you.

Several things occurred to his brain in rapid fire. The first that he realized was that your scent surrounded and engulfed him the same way a warming blanket would surround and soothe a swaddled babe. Your scent alone sending sobering awareness through the great beast.

The Second thing he realized was the fact that you were in his arms with your lips pressed against his. Despite the joy leaping in his heart, that happiness turned to fear when he realized the blot was escaping his body into your own. He tried to stop it with little success, your body going limp in his grasp as your eyes glazed over in a pitch black film.

He had seen you absorb blot from Alistair, and he felt that same fear as your body convulsed and struggled against the blot racing beneath your skin. Dark spiderwebs of blot skittering across your flesh, visible even beneath your skin due to the deep pigmentation. Panic settled in his gut as a choking sound came from your soft body, laying like a marionette cut free from the strings that bind it.

A broken doll in the shape of the only creature he felt he could love.

~•§•~

You tumbled through the disquieting and somewhat familiar darkness, disoriented as you spin through shadows and plummet in an ocean abyss. The vague sensation of cold scales or perhaps clammy skin against your own flesh darted through the shadows. All light had been blotted out and you couldn't even tell which way was up or down. Even as the shadows caressed your free-falling body, a part of you wanted to fight the darkness surrounding you.

The shadows themselves seemed to last longer than prior as did your time in the darkness, adrift in a sea of giant beasts that you couldn't even see swimming around you. There was a kind of life to the darkness, as of every creature who had Overblotted had been added to this ocean of shadows and consciousness. Eventually a shape seemed to be swimming towards you from the darkness, wide jaws opening as it approached before you were unceremoniously dropped into a scene.

Away from the shadowed ocean of blot, your eyes managed to focus on the world around you as it slowly stopped spinning. Items and objects fell into place as you heard the soft sound of crying. With nothing else to do and no way to escape the visions of the past, you decided to seek out the source of the sound.

Sitting alone at a long table was a young and cherub-faced Dragon who was crying into his hands. His chubby and short tail curled up over his stomach as the young child sobbed. Standing in the shadows, refusing to comfort the child was an array of adults in masks. The masks themselves looking like twisted and grinning beasts as they watched the young Dragon cry his little heart out.

"I'm sorry, Malleus, Queen Malefica is in talks with the neighboring countries about-"

"I want Grammy! Where is Grammy?"

"She's busy, young prince-"

"Where is Lily? I want my Lily!"

The child only cried harder as ice began to form, the guards trying to flee only to be frozen in place as the ice crawled up their legs and rooted them to the ground. You could see your breath as you shivered, trying to not slip on the iced stones beneath your feet and approach the child. Though the guards could not react to your presence due to the ice engulfing them, the little Dragon was acutely aware of your approach.

He lifted his little face, his tears making his black hair stick to his rounded cheeks as he sniffled and whimpered. His chubby little hands curled into tight fists as he whimpered. As if he knew you meant comfort and safety, the cherub Dragon climbed down from his tall chair and tottered over to you with his hands held up.

Though you knew Fae aged differently and he was likely far older than he looked, it felt like the young toddler before you couldn't have been a day over four. You scooped up the child into your arms as he cuddled into you, resting his pudgy cheek against your shoulder as he whimpered. The whines slowly quieted to soft coos as the young Dragon cuddled into your hold.

Slowly, the ice began to recede from the multitude of guards as little Malleus calmed down. Holding him allowed you a better look at the Dragon, his limbs round and soft as they held onto you tightly. Even his tail was short and rounded with baby fat, barely able to curl around your arm. How long as he been relegated to being alone? Surely Lilia or his grandmother didn't leave him to his own devices from this tender young age?

As the Dragon in your arms began to purr, light faded back into darkness as a new scene met your eyes.

You stood in what looked like a throne room, a little Malleus still as small as the first vision was sobbing as he desperately reached out his arms. He was held in the grasp of a woman you have seen before back when the representatives came to check on your wellbeing. It was Malleus' great-grandmother Maleficent.

Despite how she held the squirming Dragon toddler, Malleus was clearly unhappy and thoroughly upset.

"Lily!"

The Dragon screamed his little voice out as you looked where his chubby hand was reaching. Lilia stood there, his hair longer than it had been with faded red highlights instead of the usual pink you had grown used to. The Bat Fae looked pained as if his heart were being pulled out of his chest as several guards seemed to be pushing him back and away.

"No! My Lily! Come back, Lily! COME BACK!"

Both Fae that you had come to care for were being ripped away from one another, the cries of the infant pulling at your heart and clearly pulling at Lilia's heart. They both seemed to want to be together yet were being pulled apart despite how much they wanted to be reunited.

As Lilia was pushed away and out of the throne room, Maleficent was trying to soothe the sobbing Dragon. Malleus was clearly upset, the rolling thunder around the castle shaking the foundation as the child screamed his heart out. What you couldn't understand was why they were forcing Lilia away. What had the Bat possibly done to deserve such treatment?

"LILY! LILY COME BACK!"

"Hush, Malleus. We cannot allow someone who abandoned Maleanor to be with you. Even if it was to bring your egg to safety, he should have known better than to leave her behind. We can't risk your safety, even for a Hoard member."

Malleus was inconsolable, sobbing and whimpering as he continued to reach for where Lilia had been. As you turned to try and see if you could find the Bat Fae, the world shifted again.

Now you were standing in what appeared to be that first dining hall, sparsely decorated for what was shaping up to be a somber party. An impossibly large cake sat on the long table, every seat empty excepting for three. At the head of the table was Maleficent, a patient smile on her lips as she spoke softly to a still very young Malleus to her left. To the right of her was another woman who looked quiet similar to Malleus and Maleficent. Odds are, she was his grandmother Malefica, who he spoke of fondly.

Little Malleus did not look happy, even as a large slice of cake was set in front of him. If anything, he looked downcast and almost miserable as he regarded the countless empty seats. It seemed the two women also noticed the little Dragon's less than joyful mood at the innumerable unoccupied spaces. It seemed to only be a reminder of how alone he really was.

"Come, Malleus, enjoy. The castle Baker certainly outdid himself this time. He is quite the valuable find given his skill in confectionary work."

"... Is Lilia not coming?"

This made Maleficent's smile fall, a pitying look in her eyes as she glanced at her daughter before back to Malleus.

"Malleus, you know Lilia isn't allowed to be here. But we're here and there should be no interruptions, so we can spend all night with you."

This didn't seem to cheer the Dragon up as tears filled his eyes. Clearly, he was only upset by her words and not comforted. It seemed like every time you saw little Malleus, he was alone or was having someone he cared about taken away from him. No wonder the Dragon was so territorial about the few Hoard members he actually had given his intense isolation from such a young age.

"... May I be excused?"

"... Are you sure? You've barely even touched your cake."

"... Why have a cake if there is no one to share it with?"

The air turned cold once more, making you shiver from the icy wind that seemed to seep into your bones. Truly, the Dragon seemed crestfallen and looked like he was about to cry again. Even as he curled up in his seat, it was clear that no monetary gifts or sweet treats could perk the Dragon back up from the sorrow he drowned in.

The scenes seemed to shift more rapidly now, countless images and moments of Malleus all alone as he slowly grew in isolation.

Even as Lilia began to appear more often, the damage was already done. There was a kind of resigned sorrow to Malleus as the years scrolled by. The child seemed to never quite perk up, a placid and distant expression etched into his face as countless birthdays rolled by with next to no one to share them with.

Eventually, the rapid scenes slowed before coming to a halt with you standing in front of a forested cottage. Lilia stood watching over a pair of familiar boys as they tumbled through the grass and fought one another playfully. Standing over the smaller Fae's shoulder- as if intentionally isolating himself- was Malleus. He looked similar to how he did as you knew him, that stoic expression burned into his face and a kind of dullness to his eyes.

"... It seems Sebek and Silver are growing well."

"Of course! Now they both have a buddy to scrap with, they should shape up to be excellent young men."

"... A buddy..?"

"Hm? Did you say something, Malleus?"

"No. Nothing at all."

The Dragon looked almost jealously at the pair, watching the small Raiju leap at the Cervitaur and tackle him into the grass. Both erupted with laughter as they continued their rough housing, Silver clearly much faster than Sebek. Perhaps Malleus was jealous because these young children had what he was denied as a child; a friend.

He watched the pair play, seeming to long for the same kind of connection yet unable to truly relate to the younglings that tumbled and giggled. It made you begin to wonder what kind of life Malleus really had. Sure, his physical needs were always met and he was always kept safe as he grew up, but his emotional needs seemed to have fallen to the wayside.

The Dragon grew up and lived a lonely life, longing for the emotional connection of a friend yet always denied such social bonds. The scene began to melt away into yet another vision of the past, this time a familiar building looming around you. What you saw in this vision confused you, as you stared at the very familiar nest in front of you.

Malleus was there and he finally wasn't alone for once. Instead of the lonely Dragon, Malleus was sitting in the nest he constructed for you, an affectionate smile curling his lips as he slowly pet the shape he was seated next to. You recognized yourself slowly, feeling an odd out of body experience as you watched the Dragon pet your sleeping cheek.

"I don't have to be alone anymore... I will protect you from everyone, and no one will be allowed to take you. My Treasure... You will know a fruitful life of plenty and never need to long for more... My precious Crown Jewel... My glorious little Hoard member. My (Y/n). They will never be able to take you from me... I never have to be alone again."

The Dragon smiled as he leaned down, planting a feather soft kiss to your forehead before the scene slowly spun away from you like a light fading out. It felt like you had been watching the depressing anthology of Malleus' life for years, the sheer number of lonely birthdays added up well beyond several hundred as you felt a sinking feeling in your gut. He was already territorial and possessive simply based off of his instincts, but a lifetime of being deprived of friendship from those he wanted most left the Dragon struggling with every level of emotion.

Your affection was his crutch and he needed anything you could give him. From the fleeting hugs to the gentle head-pats, even to the way he got to hold you while he slept at night. The Dragon had no cuddle companions beyond those that were brought into his Hoard through association other than you. Much like a dog with a treasured stuffed animal, he couldn't emotionally understand the concept of losing you for any reason.

You wondered if he would even understand your life expectancy compared to his own.

As someone who never was allowed to experience uncomfortable emotions due to his extreme effect on the world around him, he was not only emotionally repressed, he was stunted. Never able to experience the natural highs and lows of life, Malleus has been crippling his own emotions for the sake of others his entire life. Even with Lilia returning to his side later on, the early trauma of Lilia being taken away was devastating to Malleus. It must have only fed his instinctual anxiety of others taking away those he loved.

Based off of how much he struggled to relate to others at the school, it was apparent that he would only continue to struggle in life. If it weren't for your own addictive qualities he may have needed years to warm up to you fully. Your aura stabilized the worst of his moods and kept the Dragon pacified, giving him something soft and comforting to cling to.

This was becoming too much for you to bear. Silently hoping and begging the Human Ghosts to find the right mirror and set you free. If you became any more enmeshed with the Dragon or any of the elites in this school you would have an even harder time escaping them. The concept of returning home was seeming so distant to you now as you watched the Dragon purr contently in the darkness of your room.

~•§•~

No one was willing to approach the stressed Dragon, the black scales of the winged beast shined in the low light of the room. The elder Shinigami standing next to Ortho to monitor the soft Human from a distance. Despite the immense intake of powerful blot, you seemed to almost be in a trance of sleep. Hours passed as you lay silently in a deep sleep, your body laying up against the large Dragon's stomach as he whimpered a soft mournful song.

Not even Lilia could approach to console the stressed force of nature. Though Hades had been certain of his own victory against the Dragon, he also knew there would be inevitable and unavoidable deaths. Your proximity to the Dragon kept Hades at bay, knowing the volatile Fae could become overwhelmed at any moment. The beast's wrong doings would come to light, but now was not the time.

The storm had died down from a hurricane, but now a frost began to settle in around the building as the clouds turned cold and the winds picked up a chill. Despite the bite of frost, you were kept toasty and comfortable thanks to the Dragon guarding your body. Malleus was whining gently to you as he fought against the dark thoughts that invaded his mind.

How could he have endangered you like that? Would you look at him in fear or would you let him try to explain himself? Would you wake up?

He didn't know how much blot you could handle but he just hated the fact he hurt you at all.

Azul steamed quietly in his seat on the far side of the room, Kalim refusing to settle as the two dorm leaders stared at you in worry. What had started off as a good evening for the pair of Housewardens quickly fell apart into a worrying state of limbo waiting for you to wake. Kalim felt responsible for your state and believed he should have gone with you when he first granted your wish.

The pair weren't the only ones who showed up to visit and wait for your awakening, most of your guards doing the same. They all knew something was wrong thanks to your collar pinging them and the impact of the hurricane that had hit Sage Island so quickly and fiercely. Though they also knew that challenging Malleus was a fool's errand and so they waited at a distance.

All of them waiting for their most precious soul to wake up from the seemingly endless nightmares.

[wistfulnightingale]

Unmasking an Angel (or, Free to be who you really are)

[Part 2 of "Loneliness, In Good Omens"]

The world does not easily accept difference. Many of us experience that on a daily basis. When we find others who make it safe to be genuine, even if it's just one singular person, we create a Precious, Peaceful, Fragile Existance for ourselves. It is worth fighting for. It is worth Everything.

Aziraphale and Crowley found this with each other. They live in a universe where control and conformity is paramount, where defiance and compassion and "fraternizing" with the enemy are offenses that risk harsh punishment -- or even total annihilation. Yet, step by step, through acts of trust and courage across millennia, Crowley and Aziraphale created their own interior world where they can be truly themselves with each other.

Both of Our Ineffables had to create masks in order to survive. Crowley's is cool, smooth, swaggering, with a heavy pretense of indifference, and a charming range of accents and phonetics to match the situation -- sometimes just for fun, but often to downplay himself and blend in. In short, Crowley is HOT, and the Bad Boy mask hiding all that tenderness just makes him even more attractive to us susceptible humans.

Ahhh, but, Aziraphale... Some of the fandom isn't so swept away by Aziraphale's mask.

The Angel has to protect himself in a different system. One that demands unquestioning obedience and conformity. Rebellious swagger is NOT rewarded.

Aziraphale pays a heavy price. Rejection, scorn, mockery -- second class to the other angels. Misunderstood and underestimated by everyone except Crowley. Even by some of the fandom.

But what is behind the mask? And why do we struggle so much to understand him?

The mask Aziraphale is compelled to hide behind is made of traits we generally don't admire or value: fawning, subservience, docility, obedience, with a goodly dash of heaven-pleasing insincere flattery. In Hell, these traits would get you stomped on, or at least trapped at a dead-end desk job (Sorry, Fur-Fur!). In Heaven, this is expected behavior. Sandalphon is a master butt-kisser, and look at the status this mafioso toady has...!

Dress alike, act alike, follow the rules. Spout the Party line. Respect authorities, even to excess. Look reasonably capable and brave, as an angel should, but not so brave or capable that you attract attention or jealousy. Care only about what WE tell you to care about. Which is pretty much no one but us and God. Maybe God.

Present yourself as angelically strong, but not so strong that anyone above you views you as a threat. Unless you fawn all over them, like Sandalphon playing up to Gabriel or Uriel going beta with the Metatron. Know when to make yourself look weak -- or, better yet -- invisible, to allow the powerful people to keep feeling powerful. Appear intelligent enough to carry out your tasks, but never seem more intelligent than those who control you.

It's an impossible situation. A repressive, authoritarian system. An abusive and toxic environment. And like any survivor in an abusive system with an undercurrent of simmering violence, Aziraphale does what he must to survive.

But who is he, really? Underneath the trauma, and the mask?

We get to see so much of who Aziraphale truly is in S2. Safe (or relatively safe, for now) with Crowley, we get to see so much more!

His playfulness,

his compassion,

his analytical nature,

his courage...

his stubbornness...

and how much he trusts

& adores Crowley!

(Did you kinda go, "Wait a sec'! Some of those are S1"? Yeh, the whole right column. Couldn't resist!)

Actually, as we can see, all of those traits and more were shown to us in S1 as well...!

When we don't understand someone's external behaviors and the reasons for their choices, it's easy to get caught up in the misunderstanding. Like the archangels, we can start seeing someone only for how they're not who we think they shoud be, rather that seeing who they actually ARE.

Aziraphale was one of the angelic oddlings from the first. He had those lovely traits at his core already. Before the Beginning, he wanted to protect the naive Starmaker from harm. In the Garden, he had compassion for the humans who were being punished for their "disobedience", and risked himself even then.

Having Crowley's acceptance and support helped Aziraphale to not only hold onto to those qualities, but to allow them to grow until they became a strong and confident part of who he is.

It's difficult to grow in an atmosphere of isolation, or hostility. Being accepted and LOVED helps provide the Freedom to figure out who we are, and who we want to be.

Love allows us ALL to flourish.

LOOK AT YOU -- YOU'RE GORGEOUS!!!

Thanks for sticking around and giving this a read! If you're interested, I've written more philosophical ramblings, about loneliness, forgiveness, and other deep ponderings in Good Omens.

Facing Loneliness (Reaching Out in Courage)

Finding Forgiveness (Text Barrages & Apology Dances)

Forgiveness & Absolution (Holy Hot Chocolate, Jim!)

The Courage of an Angel (Sometimes the Ordinary is Extraordinary)

[ifishouldvanish]

Been thinking about Dracula v. Olrox parallels, but also the perpendiculars.

Both characters are powerful vampires who lost the people they loved most and sought retribution for it, but while Dracula tried to destroy the world around him, Olrox (who has already had his world destroyed) stops at going after "the one responsible".

"There are no innocents! Not anymore! Any one of them could have stood up and said: No, we won't behave like animals anymore." - Dracula, S1E1, "Witchbottle"

"Your mama took someone from me I loved, just as much as you loved her. So, she had to die. Oh, I could kill you too. And I will one day. But not tonight." - Olrox, Nocturne S1E1, "A Common Enemy In Evil"

I think about the way the people of Boston were celebrating independence that night and how that compares to the way the Archbishop in Targoviste thought it was a good idea to celebrate the anniversary of Lisa's execution/Dracula's warning—how in both cases Dracula and Olrox are confronted with displays that seem to dismiss or even make a mockery their grief and trauma.

But I also think about the way Julia seemed to be expecting Olrox, versus the way the people of Targoviste seemed to be surprised that Dracula would make his good on his threat and to have believed that they had "defeated evil" that day.

"One year. I gave you one year to make your peace with your God. And what do you do? Celebrate the day you killed my wife. One year I gave you, while I assembled my armies. And now I bring your death. You had your chance." - Dracula, S1E1, 'Witchbottle"

It makes me wonder if Olrox had issued a similar threat to Julia. The man he loved supported the revolutionary cause, and it makes me wonder if Olrox clung to that little morsel of "he almost made me believe in it, too" and was waiting to see how things played out. If American Independence would deliver the promise his lover believed it would. Just as Dracula gave the people of Targoviste one year to recognize the errors of their ways and do better— because Lisa so much believed that people were capable of as much.

It makes me think about the contrast of the Targoviste celebration plainly condemning Dracula and dark magick and evil—the cruelty of Lisa's burning having been the point—versus the way the celebration in Boston erases and ignores the cruel, rotten foundations of colonization by sweeping it under the rug of the ideals of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

"He burned with such passion. About the world, about how the people, "the people", that's how he talked, could win this thing called freedom. Even people like him. People whose land had been stolen, I mean. Like mine was, oh, so long ago. But he fought with them, the revolutionaries. He fought with them. He almost made me believe in it too." - Olrox, Nocturne S1E6, "Guilty Men To be Judged"

And it makes me also think about the contrast of Dracula, whose grief drives him to depression, withdrawal, and suicidal tendencies—versus Olrox, who continues to seek out connection and be driven towards survival at all costs. Despite the grief and trauma of not just losing the man he loved, but witnessing millions of people like him suffer the loss of their entire worlds and ways of life to colonization the same way he did.

I think about Dracula as the classic vampire trope of this unnatural, immortal thing who has overstayed his time in this world, finally accepting the fate of all living things to die in the end—but I think about Olrox as an inversion of this trope: this wonderfully human, passionate thing who is brimming with a will to live despite existing in a world that wants him dead, that wants to bury all evidence that he was ever there at all.

"My boy... I'm- I'm killing my boy. Lisa, I'm killing my boy. We painted this room. We... made these toys. It's our boy, Lisa. Your greatest gift to me... and I'm killing him. I must already be dead..." - Dracula, S2E7, "For Love"

"You're not just a beast consumed by lust for blood. You have a mind which can think and a heart which can love." - Olrox, Nocturne S2E1, "A Living Legend"

I think about how Dracula struggled to live as a man in a society he saw as savagely cruel, versus Olrox who is undeniably 'human' in a society that refuses to see him (and more broadly, anyone like him) as anything but savage (a 'dragon ', a snake, an 'animal who lost its soul').

I think about how despite everything, Olrox is resilient. Olrox endures.

Obviously we don't know the specific circumstances of why Olrox turned his lover, why Julia killed him, etc., and obviously her death was highly traumatic for Richter to witness as a nine year old boy. But if Olrox's arc in a potential S3-4 is to die, then the writer's room is gonna catch these hands. He does not need a redemption arc—certainly not one that effectively echoes, "The only good Indian is a dead Indian". He needs justice.

Like begging on my hands and knees Nocturne writers, please do NOT fuck this up 🥲🔪

[dandylandon]

Chat I'm gonna rant so if this doesn't make much sense soz divas. (He/him pronouns for the doctor) this is a batman/doctor who rant if you only know one property the analysis still works just knowing both helps.

Rose becoming the doctor (allegedly (I'm coping)) doesn't work because it now frames the doctor as an aspiration for the companion therefore making the doctor better, smarter and wiser than the companion instead of them occupying their own space within the story, the doctor isn't human he has humans to learn from to enrich his own experience and be smarter, because the doctor doesn't know everything, he's smart but he doesn't know everything.

Same with the Robins and Batman, bruce is very smart yes but he's also apart of the elite white class so he doesn't actually know much about the roughness of Gotham so a circus preformer, a street rat, a highly intelligent child of the same class, and a foreign child raised to be a killer shapes his world view, he as a singular human cannot experience every nuance of the world, this leads to situations forming where he cannot finish the riddle or save the city because he literally doesn't have the puzzle piece that say Jason Todd could have.

This is why I have an issue with the Robins being the next batman and why i prefer cass or azrael to take over, the Robins aren't batman and batman isn't a Robin, they're both very important when bruce is alone you can feel the absence of a Robin, and so can bruce.

When the doctor is alone he talks to the companion even though they aren't there, because he needs this person to bounce off, and without them he cannot complete the puzzle.

The Robins don't become Robins to climb up to being batman, they graduate they become nightwing, the red hood, red robin, and hopefully damian gets this too because damian isn't the heir of the batman, he is a robin so he must graduate and move on become something new and fresh, same with batgirls they graduate from bruces training camp.

The companions in doctor who either graduate or die (Robins too but yknow) Sarah Jane doesn't become the doctor, she takes the lessons the doctor taught her and protects bannerman road and London when the doctor isn't around, if Sarah Jane became the Doctor it would feel like an insult (the doctor having Sarah's face which we're assuming that's what the doctor is doing to rose) because its a mockery of who Sarah Jane is, she's a human woman who lost her best friend off the pier, she's a skilled journalist, she has her traumas and loves because she is fundamentally human, she is a mother fiercely protective of her son Luke her daughter sky and their friends and she can die causing a ripple in the family, Sarah Jane was a mortal and if the doctor took her face, it would be disgusting because it treats her accomplishments as nothing compared to the grandiose nature of the doctor, the ever important doctor, the smarter one, the braver one, the only person who matters.

Before timeless child the doctor was a no name child of galifrey, he was a rebal and bored of the social order of galifrey so he left stealing something, the doctor is important just because he's curious, compassionate and disobedient not because he's an alien, which is why he connects with companions they're also bored with human society, they're yin and yang and you can't have a yang without yin, so making the yang a yin is stupid now you just have half a circle with a hole in it.

That kinda ate

But yeah stupid decision, RTD is lazy, I don't think he's a hack because I fw like every other show he's made, queer as folk, Bob and Rose like he's capable I just think he doesn't care much anymore and I don't blame him it's been 20 years and they put alot on you to revive the show and as a fan you thought you could, but if he really cared he wouldn't have accepted it, he would've passed it to a younger writer and that younger writer would recruit all their friends...kinda like what RTD did, yknow be a younger man who made alot of your writing friends because you all made doctor who fanfiction so now you're all in the industry and you hire each other and then your friends friend writes of the show creating this tight knit community amongst writers who have fun taking risks. That's what doctor who needs...doctor who needs me apparently, its a hard job but I guess I'll take it.

The Doctor and Bruce Wayne are the architects, the Companions and Robins are the apprentices, you don't replace the architect with the apprentice you watch proudly as the apprentice goes and builds their own name using you as a guide because you've taught them so much.

This much thought into batman and doctor who should make it so if I do lose my virginity I receive back like a cashback scheme.

[nhothicket]

is it too late for Halloween?

Some close ups and silly spare thoughts about this half-baked au below the cut ^v^

Some thoughts:

It's extremely important for this au that Etho is very enthusiastic about his clowning, okay? Nobody's forcing him to do this he is a PROUD CLOWN.

The setting is probably somewhere in the 80s-90s at an amusement park with a carnival vibe. I thought it might be fun to have all the Halloween hermits be canon, but I also see this being a world unaware of the more supernatural goings on, so I'm not sure if that could pan out. Maybe some sort of veil from the supernatural might be in play? Who knows.

Anyway! This is about Ethdubs not those other nerds.

> So, in this amusement part there's an oddities attraction of sorts. There resides Bdubs, he is a haunted heart preserved in a jar, not an actual attraction though just set dressing for the creepy shed vibe. As the story goes this jar has been passed around for decades, but its progressively gotten heavier despite being untampered with. The preservatives have gotten thick and changed colors over time. This is actually just Bdubs' spirit taking its sweet sweet time to manifest, as he slowly materializes around his heart, the preservatives turn to ectoplasm.

Most of the time he's sealed up in the jar, thanks to this mystical veil regular people usually can't hear him grouching about the tight space. The jar itself is part of his haunting, which means its technically part of him and he can't pass through it. So, until Etho realizes the disembodied voice he's been hearing come from the little building is not all in his head, Bdubs was stuck there.

> Bdubs' more human less goopy form is also a bit translucent in that form and he's not at all solid. If Etho were to poke him in the arm his finger would go through with some pressure. A firm hug would be fine at first, but he'd quickly start sinking into the ghost. It takes a lot of energy to be that physical, so Bdubs hardly does it. He's capable of leaving his heart in the jar and being a more traditional wispy ghost in that image, but... he feels left out when he can't touch things, so he'll usually choose being a bit gooey over being a beautiful beautiful man.

His heart is the only part of him that is completely physical. It is a real object in the world still, he's possessing it. It's what allows him to be more physical, so if someone were to reach into his chest and pluck it out he'd turn into a wisp. (He and Etho have both done so repeatedly to make bad jokes about heart stealing). How did Bdubs' heart get in a shady unmarked jar? Who knows. The people who ran the place probably don't even know its a real human heart anymore.

> Bdubs frequently lies about how old he was (recalling and inserting himself into historical events he wasn't even born for), Etho humors it.

> Bdubs died before Etho was born, this is the subject of mockery on both sides. (Etho would've been born maybe a decade or so after Bdubs died, he's in his 30s at present)

> Etho's gimmick is being comically good slight of hand and magic tricks. He's not supernatural, but he's like fantastical in his competence when it comes to looking magical. Etho invents (realistically jmpossible) contraptions to make his magic work.

> Horse drawn buggies would've been on their way out as Bdubs was growing up, so he could be nostalgic for that, I thought it might be cute if Etho took him out on one of those horse drawn tours as a surprise. Don't mind the clowny guy carrying around a jar with a heart in it.

> Another funny thought I had, Bdubs asking for a grand sarcophagus after getting jealous of the attention a new mummy is getting in the attraction. Etho doesn't buy him a sarcophagus, but he does get him a novelty canopic jar from the gift shop of a nearby museum.

Okay, that's all for now. ^v^;

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The vow

it’s still late and I have just watched the finale. Let’s write one more fic. Obviously it has spoilers.

Agatha looks at the pile of dead witches, their voices recently linked in tight harmony, and feels nothing, neither satisfaction nor guilt, only aching, empty void where her heart should have been.

Someone slow-claps from the trees, and there she is, Rio in her false human guise, the thing Agatha once thought herself capable of loving. “You’re still at it, huh? And with a new trick, too! I do love to watch you work, Ags, no one does it quite like you.”

Agatha hasn’t seen her in six years, though she has to assume she’s come for the soul of every witch Agatha has killed in that time. An act of surprising kindness, to not be constantly reminded that Death was waiting and this time, not for her.

The kindness fixes nothing. The only thing Agatha has ever truly loved is gone. “Give me more time,” she says, her voice dull, leaden. She wonders if begging will help, knows it will not. When she woke to find Nicky gone, she begged, she screamed, she threatened, she asked to be taken instead. All of those pleas went unanswered.

“I have never given time before,” Rio says, stepping over the bodies, moving toward her. “I never will again. It violates everything I am. It upsets the natural order of things.” There is an out-of-character uncertainty in her tone. “I only did it because I love you.”

Ah, here, Agatha feels something, the urge to hurt, to rend and tear, a cruel urge to drive every stake she can into Rio’s black heart. “You don’t know what love is,” she says.

Rio rolls her eyes, but she’s stopped moving, an armslength away. “Yes, yes, now that you had a child, you know love as only a—“

Oh, there is a feeling, awful, gut-wrenching, death by a hundred cuts, the words ‘had a child’ echoing in her head in endless mockery.

“You have never loved anything!” Agatha screams, feels weak for doing so, vulnerable, exposed.

Rio lunges at her with such speed, mask falling away, nose melting off, skeletal face inches from Agatha as she drags the witch closer. “I love you! You, Agatha Harkness, among all the mortals, all the gods, all that is and ever will be, I love you!” Agatha Harkness does not flinch before Death. “You took everything from me.”

Rio releases her. “I had no choice. It was his time.” She hesitates. “…and not everything?” Tentative, hopeful and Agatha—

Oh, how Agatha laughs. Every witch should have a good cackle, but Agatha laughs like a scream torn from a dying throat. “Never,” she hisses, leaning close, her voice gravelly. “Never again, my love.” The word is a hissed mockery and Rio flinches back, so Agatha strides forward. “I hate you. I despise you. I will swear you a vow, as you once asked me to.”

“Agatha…” Rio, her tone familiar, warning, trying to stop Agatha from making a mistake, as though she wasn’t Agatha’s greatest mistake.

“I vow this. I will never kiss you, touch you, lay with you, speak one word in kindness or look upon you with anything but hatred.” And now she is almost enjoying herself, pacing forward as Death steps back, a parody of a smile stretched across her face, eyes glittering with madness.

Rio swallows, looks away, the breath of her false body coming in too-fast gulps of air. “Someday you will come to me anyway.”

She starts to taunt, then pauses. “Would I see Nicky again?” Agatha blurts. “If—“

Rio gives her a challenging smile, knife suddenly in one hand, two fingers crooked to invite her closer. “Come and find out, Ags. Come and see what’s beyond the veil.”

“Answer me first,” Agatha snarls.

“Kiss me and maybe I will,” Rio says.

Agatha sneers. “Never again. In life or death.”

Rio searches her face for a long moment, looks at her with hints of increasing desperation. “Life is long,” she decides. “Even you aren’t that stubborn.” She isn’t sure, though. They have both seen evidence of how stubborn Agatha can be.

“Watch me,” Agatha says, spinning on her heel. “Watch me and want me, and know that you’ll never have me, not the way you did, not the way you want. If you had a heart, I’d tear it from your chest. But we both know you’re completely heartless.”

Rio watches her stride away in the woods, head high, shoulders back, and politely pretends she doesn’t hear Agatha’s sobs as soon as she’s out of sight.

“Of course I have a heart,” she murmurs. “It beats for you.”

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

obey me: shall we design a male mc?

Hi everyone! Here's me designing a snarky male MC just so I can have him fall in love with Diavolo 🤣 I can't draw him but I really hope you like him!

Character Bible: Agni Latham

Basic Information

Full Name: Agni Latham

Age: 19

Occupation: College Student (Art Major) & Bartender

Current Status: Exchange Student in Devildom

Personality Overview

Agni presents as a sharp-tongued, profanity-loving spitfire who hides a deeply compassionate heart. His rough exterior masks an emotionally intelligent young man who's learned the hard way about the importance of paying attention to others' emotional states. While he's quick to swear and call out injustice, he's equally quick to offer support and protection to those he cares about.

Background

Human World History

Worked his way up from barback to bartender starting at age 18

Developed reputation for creative cocktails and flair bartending

Best friend and roommate Alex died by suicide shortly before Agni's arrival in Devildom

The loss of Alex profoundly impacted his approach to friendships and emotional awareness

Carries significant guilt about missing signs of Alex's struggles

Keeps a private sketchbook of drawings of Alex

Bartending Skills

Exceptional ability to read people's emotions through drink choices

Creates unique, personalized cocktails for friends

Specialized in both normal and magical cocktails

Known for "Emotional Support Cocktails" with minor healing properties

Maintains a secret recipe notebook for demon-specific drinks

Key Relationships

Leviathan

Extremely protective of Levi's emotional well-being

Created special non-alcoholic anime-themed drinks

Actively learns about anime to better connect with him

Fiercely defends Levi's interests against mockery

Regular gaming session companion

Mammon

Acts as financial and emotional support

Protects him from bad deals

Created special drink "The Greedy Glow"

Keeps emergency comfort drinks for Mammon's bad days

Teaches him about valuable liquors

Diavolo

Developing romantic feelings for the Demon Prince

Created "Royal Sunset" drink inspired by him

Becomes one of few people to see beyond the prince facade

Offers emotional support during late-night conversations

Uses bartending as a way to help Diavolo relax

Special drink-order code system for "need to talk"

Relationship characterized by mutual understanding of carrying burdens

Signature Drinks

Regular Menu

"Otaku's Delight": Non-alcoholic blue raspberry cream soda with magical anime effects

"Mammon's Jackpot": Golden tequila cocktail with success-flavor notes

"The Greedy Glow": Gold-flecked specialty for Mammon

"Royal Sunset": Inspired by Diavolo (never served)

"Starlit Memory": Memorial drink for Alex, made on his birthday

Magical Properties

Color-changing effects

Minor healing properties

Mood-enhancement capabilities

Magical ingredient incorporation

Dream-touch elements

Character Traits

Strengths

Emotional intelligence

Protective instincts

Creative talent (both art and mixology)

Direct communication

Loyalty to friends

Vulnerabilities

Survivor's guilt

Tendency to overprotect

Difficulty accepting praise

Uses profanity as emotional shield

Insomnia and anxiety

Quotes

"Listen here, you stuck up son of a bitch- I don't give a damn if you're the Avatar of Pride, you can't just treat people like that!"

"You know what's fucked up? Sometimes it's easier talking to the literal Prince of Hell than it was talking to my best friend."

"Your father can fuck right off with those expectations. You're doing your best, and that matters."

"Yes, you're a scumbag, but you're MY scumbag, now sit down and let me make you something special."

"For fuck's sake Mammon, you don't just slam premium whiskey like it's cheap shots!"

Agni's Character Journey

Learning to balance protection with allowing others their agency

Processing grief and guilt

Finding love while carrying past trauma

Understanding the difference between caring and controlling

Discovering how to be vulnerable again after loss

[kjzlstuio]

Hello I saw your post, how about tsp headcanons or maybe anything about your au?

OH SHIT SOMEONE PERCIEVED MY AU

I feel like everyone that gets into tsp has an au for their own interpretation and story, so minee uhhhhh I had a plan to make a whole fic + illustration series for it, but I dont have the time or motivation so I'm cool with infodumping. Actually, getting it all down now would make it easier to release content for it, so win win !!

SUPER LONG INFODUMP INCOMING

My au is mostly a character exploration of Stanley and Narrator after years in isolation before it starts getting meta. From adjustment to their new lives, to the evolution of their relationship through insanity, and finally discovering the truth of their world to break free.

The first few chapters are dedicated to Stanley's adjustment from his real life to the game. Chapter 1 follows his daily routine, his commute, his entrance into the building, and suddenly, the silence of his branch. His job wasn't very interactive in the first place, inputting what he was told into spreadsheets or other, but simply pressing buttons is a gross simplification of it. The oddity of the situation hits him, and the narration begins. Truthfully, the Narrator's words align with his thoughts, so while he is uneasy, he does as told because he'd do the same. The Freedom Ending is full of revelations and emotions as he reflects on his life, corners of the office he hadn't seen. Stanley steps outside, the daylight grows brighter, and he resets. Following this is Stanley's spiral through emotions. He doubts the voice in his mind being his own, looks everywhere for clues about his situation, inputs into the pink screens and tests out the story slowly. From barely diverting to a room or two in anxious desperation, to completely opposing the Narrator in anger and spite, Stanley branches into every ending plus some. While it's true that his life had fallen into monotony, the Narrator mocks and berates him not only through dialogue, but through the contents of the world. The building became nothing but a maze of halls, his capabilities as a human limited to button-pressing, his ability to speak lost completely. It was as if The Stanley Parable was made solely to mock his existence. The Narrator and Stanley battle for control of the situation. Stanley reclaims his pride and autonomy through defiance and causing the Narrator suffering while the Narrator retaliates. However, the Narrator always seems to default to wanting a good ending for them both and fulfilling his goal of greatness and artistry. Stanley soon grows to realize this as their time loops progress, and with time, conflicted feelings for the Narrator give in to gratitude and solace in their isolation. (I remembered I had this RP with myself midway through writing, so this might be the best place to put it. Stanley's going through the wringer with his emotions, and at a point, you can get too exhausted to feel what once enveloped you so intensely. Between his anger and his gratitude, there was definitely points of exhaustion. Additionally, even as he "gave in" to the game, he was still exploring every inch, wondering about the true nature of their existence.)

Stanley never would have regained his ability to feel if not for the Narrator. If anything, he should be grateful that his lonely life was brought to someone's obsessive focus. He wouldn't have overcome his anxiety to adhere to instructions, wouldn't have dared explore outside what he was expressly given permission to. Wouldn't have felt so intensely with fear and wonder and anger and self-actualization. He had them to thank. And only them. For years. They only had each other. They couldn't help it that it naturally evolved into something more. Stanley's fear of the situation evolved to desperation once he realized the pattern. Desperation for an exit to insanity for what his life had suddenly become. Insanity to anger, focused onto the source of it all and the mockery of his life. Anger to understanding as the Narrator's intentions became clear to him. Understanding to gratitude. Gratitude to adoration. Adoration to obsession. So on. And the Narrator notices these changes. The Stanley Parable in their eyes isn't a mockery, but an artistic piece and aid dedicated to Stanley. For some reason, even unknown to them, they're very attached to Stanley from the start. While upset to see their piece ripped to shreds by Stanley's choices, in the end, Stanley grows bolder, more expressive, and the Narrator loves to see it. All of this development is slow and takes place within the decade before the next game installment. The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe is introduced to Stanley in the midst of their odd relationship. Not quite a thing, not quite hidden from each other. They've grown into this routine of cycles, and by now, their endings and interactions with each other far outnumber those in the game. When the new content is added, Stanley doesn't know how to feel. The Narrator had been developing it behind the scenes with unknown outside help for a while. Stanley had long given up on interacting with any other sentient beings ever again, so the new content is overwhelming and scary in that sense. The new stimulation is welcome, but new characters? Even hints of an outside presence, seeing the meeting room covered in notes and speculation over collectibles from unseen employees freaks him out. The need for connection leads him to attaching to these inanimate objects, much like his bond with The Adventure Line. The way humans find comfort in one another through touch and interaction is the same way Stanley feels over the Bucket. Stanley eventually comes to realize that the unknown and overexaggerated connection he felt to it was true. The Bucket is a person. In fact, the Adventure Line is a person too. The Wife mannequin is a person. The Settings is a person. That Cardboard Baby was probably a person too. Who knows. Stanley pieces this together from outside reviews of the game, the story of Employee 432, and the Curator. The company he worked for is the same developer of The Stanley Parable and it ran experiments on its workers and environments in plain sight. The Stanley Parable is an interactive recording of the pocket dimension created by these experiments with Stanley's own experiences being put onto store shelves.

There's a whole subplot with the Settings gradually forming a bond with Stanley as well, and it comes to a head when Stanley attempts to escape with the Narrator. Stanley and the Narrator have a heart to heart about everything. The Narrator feigned ignorance to the Escape Pod Ending, but now knowing everything, Stanley wants to escape more than ever. Without him, this fake world can't exist, and all these people will be freed with them. The Narrator gives in with some time, final reviews of their work together, but for some reason, Stanley remains. The Settings wants to make their time endless, but the world rots without the Narrator there, and the Settings eventually has to let go. Stanley wakes up again in his office. He fears that the game isn't over, but stepping foot outside his door, he hears the rustling of objects, the voices of people, and he stumbles through the office, now back to its original form, with all his coworkers within it. It's awkward knowing they've seen so much of him, and over a decade in isolation has destroyed his ability to interact, so Stanley avoids them all in a mad search for the Narrator. When they finally lock eyes, Stanley doesn't know what to feel, but he feels his voice come out for the first time in forever, and he cries. Everyone sets off to reclaim the lives they've lost, wishing Stanley and the Narrator well as the two awkwardly return the gesture. The Narrator, for once, is at a loss for words, and they part ways before exchanging contact information. Stanley stays with his parent for some time, lost and haunted with his experiences, and the Narrator reclaims what he can of his old life, spending many days waiting by the ruins of their company building for anyone who might return. It doesn't take long for Stanley to come back. Living in the real world again is overwhelming, and he took it a day at a time with the help of his family. Coming back to find the Narrator, Stanley shares everything. While it isn't their fault, he can't just forgive them for everything. His feelings are torn all sorts of ways, and they settle with staying friends, there to help each other acclimate to life again with everyone else, but mostly each other. They make it official after some time. Even though it isn't the best decision. They can't let go of everything or each other, so it's a very codependent type of relationship despite how it looks on the outside.

There's a lot of details I left out obviously. There's a whole Curator and Mariella plot, even more details about Stanley and the Setting's dynamic, all of the secrets in the game that Stanley experiences and their corresponding emotional developments, more character exploration for the Narrator and more of how the world worked (The Narrator was actually an invisible floating mass btw), I COMPLETELY FORGOT THEIR IRL RELATIONSHIP BEFORE THE GAME JESUS. But yeah, that's the gist of it. I'll definitely make more content of it soon.

Phew

MS Paint Concepts

[televisionenjoyer]

where’s the list

Oh gladly. Gonna pull up the post that kept me up at night about it. This might be long so ↓

1- There's a common misunderstanding that those of us affected by the united states' system and governments and culture have a direct hatred towards the individual people themselves, which is not particularly accurate.

2- Any instance of individual hatred towards usamericans is precisely because of this sort of behavior tbh. I know OP's intentions aren't inherently evil or whatever, but it just feels both like an insensitive mockery towards those affected by the US's imperialism, and a huge sign that says "I'm uncomfortable talking about my country's wrongdoings and what I as an individual could do about it."

3- There is literally active action you can take about many of these. Get political. Educate yourself on whatever matters you think need to be resolved (whether it's whatever internal issues you have, or external issues such as the present day consequences of plan condor, or the economical extortion the country holds over the global south in order to exploit their resources, etc). The more educated you are (sidenote, talking to those affected might be a great idea) the more you can educate others, the more people become aware of an issue, the more power you hold over your country's political forces. This is literally how all social movements happen. Of course it's easier to empathize over things that are happening inside than the things which happen outside, but were you so pressed about the way the rest of the world perceive your country, you've at least shown a minimal interest.

4- Using the term "american" in a post that claims "we have no control over everything the rest of the world hates us for" completely invalidates the whole statement, taking into account latinoamerica's fight to reclaiming the american demonym. Of course this could have been a slip but, yeah.

5- it's totally fine if you don't want to get political or get involved, we all know how much we can manage our lives in terms of how much we do for ourselves and how much we do for others, activism is merely born as a desire to do good things for others, and everyone focuses it on the people they particularly hold affinities to, and to the extent they're capable of. This is human behavior. I'm not saying everyone should dedicate their whole life to political activism - being alive on itself is pretty hard! But the thing is by making this sort of post you're already getting political. It's literally that simple. Now you can do it in useful and constructive ways 👍

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Nineteen: Scarborough Fair Pt. 5

“Look Snow White, the Evil Queen is out for your blood right now and we dwarves are doing what we can with the crap hand we’ve been dealt with. Sure I had no clue that it was legal to own an elephant rifle in this country, but it is what it is. Plus, Envy is going to be alright, the asshole is likely having a time with eating people and cattle at this point, we should be grateful that the reptile didn’t get fire breath too.” Freddy snarked a little, smirking just a little bit just to hear Dolly chuckle a bit at the fairytale comparison. 

 “Okay…that’s fair, Envy being able to breathe fire would be horrible given the area we’re in…” Dolly chuckled a little while longer before perking her one good ear and standing straight up, looking closely at something.

 “Dolly? What’s wrong?” Freddy attempted to stand up before being gently made to sit down by Dolly who was much more tense than before. “Freddy, stay still and don’t make any sounds, something is here.” Dolly had clearly gone into apex predator mode as she kept still, hearing something coming through the brushes of the forest.

 “Shit, we need to run and…” Freddy whispered before getting cut off by Dolly, who chanced a glance at him for a split moment. “No, Freddy. Remember what I’ve told you so many times when I took you out to hunt, never act like prey when around a predator.” Dolly whispered sharply out of fear of possibly losing Freddy suddenly.

 Freddy went silent as his eyes finally focused in on something massive slithering amongst the trees as though it were grass. It was hard to tell where the head was as the rustling became louder as it got closer to where Dolly and Freddy stood. The familiar smell of fish left out too long in a baking sun started to make its presence known as something large, brown, and caked in dried blood plopped right in front of the two Mancers. It was a buck, a rather large buck that was relatively still fresh despite the dried blood covering it like pieces of a flaking paper mache project. Dolly carefully covered Freddy’s mouth to prevent him from making prey-like screaming sounds as they both looked up above where the dead buck came from. A massive, green, snake-like head loomed over them with a smiling maul of sharp, jagged teeth as though they had been chewing rocks non stop. Fins and horns adorned the serpent’s head like a mockery of a crown as its massive, violet, fish-like eyes staring down flickered a bit with recognition. It took a moment or two for Dolly to get past the dead fish smell of old human blood that had coated this serpent to recognize whose scent she was smelling. 

 “Envy..oh my gods..Envy what did that wretch do to you..?” Dolly gasped as she looked at the monster Serpentine dragon named Envy.

 “Oh Gods…the reptile has leveled up…” Freddy was about to do the reasonable action of pissing himself out of horror.

 “Shove…off…you filthy Face Fur…” Envy hisses through the opened maul like a messed up ventriloquist puppet.

 “....How the hell are they still able to speak…?” Freddy had officially pissed himself upon hearing Envy’s voice coming right out of the messed up nightmare snake.

 “Freddy, cut it out…this is a good thing, Envy can be communicated with still.” Dolly was amazed and thankful Envy clearly had speech capabilities still, the possibility of being reasoned with was strong.

 “Push…the Face Fur off a building?” Clearly the goal of Envy getting to see Freddy being shoved off a building was still a massive deal to them even in that state.

 “....Oh you fucker…” Freddy narrowed his green eyes at the serpent who was still very much hellbent on making his life a living nightmare.

 “Good to know Envy’s single mindedness is still intact..” Dolly was in awe just how deep Envy’s need to see Freddy being tossed off a building was.

 “I have a question now…how the hell did Envy even locate us?” Freddy’s narrowed eyes widened a bit upon realizing that Envy the homicidal dragon was able to find them. “Smell…I can smell….I’m..still…hungry…You eat deer, right?” Envy pointed their massive muzzle at the fresh buck carcass that was waiting to be butchered up.

 “....That was rather sweet that you remembered my comfort meat was venison..Okay, getting back on track, Envy we’re all here to help you out, okay?” Dolly started to open a proper dialog that would hopefully avoid getting Envy gunned down by an elephant rifle.

 “You’ll get me food…?” Envy’s mind was clearly on being fed, likely being some fresh human morsels to chow down on. “Not exactly…but we can totally get you food after we get you out of that massive serpent form.” Dolly gently said, trying to lead Envy into ease about how this thing will work out.

 “By who…?” Envy the unhappy monster was listening carefully to the deal. “Well here’s the thing, you have two choices, yay you! You can have Freddy over here to free you from your scaly predicament or one of the Elrics can help you out if you’re willing…” Dolly put on a warm smile in hopes of selling this deal to only get a snort in return. “Nope…” Envy started to move their massive form back into the forest, not wanting either of those spoken humans being brought into this let alone being touched by either option. 

 “Envy, please don’t be so stubborn, those are the only three options we got here.” Dolly called after as Envy retreated into the woods.

 “I’m getting more food….be back soon…” Envy hissed out as they slithered away, surprisingly fast for a massive creature of Envy’s degree. 

 “Oh my god Envy don’t you slither away from help! Plus I’m capable of hunting just fine!” Dolly called out, her pride as an apex predator being poked at by a massive dragon with severe mercury poisoning.

 “Dolly….even as a massive, deranged, horrifying dragon of perpetual suffering…Envy is still a giant asshole.” Freddy scrunched his nose up a bit as the lingering smell of the dried and old human blood lingered in the air still.

 “They’re just not liking the options…but you know what, Envy is going to be back, we can talk reason into them eventually.” Dolly clearly was still hopeful that conversation is gonna be the key with helping Envy.

[t1gerlilly]

It’s kind of hilarious to me how people try to make the case that Stede is feminine and moral and Blackbeard is butch and evil, when Blackbeard is a huge diva and Stede loves that about him. Plus Stede’s delusional optimism is just as batshit crazy AND he’s as unrepentant and just as amoral if far less competent.

They both contain multitudes, dude.

The other thing I find really cool about Stede is how adaptable he is. Like - I went to a women’s college and I can tell you just how freaked men get in an otherwise totally normal situation where they don’t control the space and aren’t immediately assumed to be in charge. Most guys have literally never been in that position in their entire life and the smallest things make them freak out. (Damn but do I have stories). But when Stede is working as a crewman or front of the house at Spanish Jackie’s he just makes the best of the situation and adapts. No egotism or hysterics. I just LOVE that.

Plus, I’ll be honest, I love masculine confidence. And the kind of guy who lets other men control him - his options, his experiences, and his self definition has always seemed weak to me. Like - so many men are terrified of being seen as tender or soft and …it just gets ridiculous. Because men are people too - capable of tenderness and softness and kindness. Denying that is cutting out your own heart. Plus, empathetic behavior is key to successful leadership. Not just among humans, but in most primates. Read Frans de Waal if you don’t believe me. It’s just awesome to see guys cooking and cleaning and talking about their feelings and wearing what they like. And having it be…unremarkable or supported. No mockery, cruelty, or abuse. Nobody having to give up what they enjoy or stifle their curiosity, or make themselves smaller so they fit into the space other people want them to take up.

[killersnarl]

// sfw alphabet for nine under the cut because i am sick and cannot work on cooler content rn 😔 go crazy

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

as a baseline i’d say he’s a very affectionate person. he’s not afraid of initiating it either, even in tense or violent situations he can be very warm and cordial. in situations like these i think a lot of people can take it as a mockery or some sort of weird threat, which can be partially true, but not always. sometimes his comforts are genuine but just happen to scare the shit out of people, he doesn’t give up tho.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

i’ll say that he’s very elusive and just disappears for days at a time sometimes. he’s a very hard person to be friends with because he’s notoriously hard to get ahold of. you’d never know much about him or his life, but he’d end up knowing everything about yours.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

nine is naturally a very touchy person i think, that’s kind of just how he is, very into tapping on shoulders and such. when he does actually hold people though it’s very very lightly because he’s always conscious of how much force he’s using. he’s automatically very heavy handed so he really has to be aware of himself.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

there will be no settling down ever. he’s mediocre at cooking it’s definitely not that bad but he’s no chef, i would trust him to cook me food and not kill me while also having it taste relatively good. nine is a very very clean person so even though his spaces might be kind of cluttered sometimes he’s very good with cleanliness upkeep. i will say there’s at least 5 empty water bottles on his nightstand tho.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

the most horrible way possible actually. nine will do almost anything to convince people to dislike him because he loves self sabotage and ruining everything that makes him happy. no matter what he will find a way to make you leave him eventually.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

don’t even get me started on how deathly allergic he is to the idea of commitment

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

very much so. physically it can be a litttle difficult because he has to be very careful with how much force he applies all the time but he does his best and usually he does it very well, very soft touches. emotionally he can be very gentle with people which might be surprising, even if he’s dropping his whole murder monologue bomb on you he somehow finds a way to be very calm and gentle about it a lot of the time.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

nine hugs are warm and all encompassing. very very nice and cozy if nine hugged me i would immediately fall asleep. he’s very soft and cushy. and i think we all know he doesn’t mind people initiating physical contact with him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

genuinely do not know if he’s ever seriously told another human being that he loves them except for his mother. it’s not that he doesn’t like or love people, he just doesn’t express it that way. i think part of him thinks it’s embarrassing to the other person so he just never verbally expresses it seriously.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

there is not a jealous bone in his body actually i don’t even know if he’s capable of this. maybe when he was like 17 and always mad idk. it’s actually comical he is not jealous or envious of anyone he’s like 31 and has already accepted that he is a depraved useless person that deserves nothing.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

very good actually. he talks to them like tiny adults and they tend to like him cause he’s big and nice. i will say he might curse around them though because he forgets.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

this is assuming you’ll ever see the day where you find a way to wake up before he dips

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

it varies very heavily because there’s a lot of things that could be happening at night and some of those things are nice but some of them are scary.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

never ever. he will actually go to great lengths to avoid telling people about himself, his only interest is knowing about other people. he’s somehow mastered switching the topic of conversation onto others.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

nine has absolutely incredible patience and he does not get mad ever, not outwardly at least. there’s not really anything for him to be mad about regardless. he’s a very calm and patient person no matter how intense the situation might be, he’s really just never in a rush. however in his late teens he was very different.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers everything, more than you probably remember about yourself. that’s the one joy he’ll allow himself to have, knowing things about people and asking questions about them. it’s a little scary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

we all know how nine feels about the concept of relationships

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

very actually. nine doesn’t want to be protected in the slightest, but he does want to protect other people. he doesn’t want any harm brought to people that haven’t done anything, but i will say that most people have probably done something in their lives.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

nine does not do dates or anniversaries or gifts. on a broader spectrum it’s not that he doesn’t try at things it’s just kind of that he’s pretty mediocre. if you asked him to draw a cat for you he would definitely do it but it would be ugly.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

okay well i would say the constant self sabotage and destruction is probably not good. and when i say constant i mean constant sometimes it’s so stupid. sometimes he’ll get his favorite soda and then give it to someone else just so he can’t have it.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

very but not in the way you’d expect. he’s concerned because he wants to keep himself ugly and hide his face from people. he doesn’t really put any effort into making himself “pretty” aside from basic cleanliness and hygiene but that’s only because when it comes to his body he’s a complete clean freak. plus all his clothes look pretty stupid.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

no ! to be honest he will never feel complete because he will not allow anything to make him happy and he likes it that way. there will always be something missing and he’s destined to walk the rest of his life like that. he thinks of himself as some sort of pyramidhead like figure, some sort of executioner and purveyor of doom cursed to do this until he can’t walk any more. there is no suffering but there is no lack of suffering.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

i can’t make headcanons because i made him so here’s some ezzy made:

dad mannerisms. he makes the most heinous dad-like noises when he sits down or gets up.

exclusively wears those dc shoes with the tongue halfway up the calf.

nails and nail beds are disturbingly well kept.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

the one thing that really grinds his gears is people who are ungrateful to be alive. he’ll make you happy to be alive in the most unnecessary and gruesome way possible. he does not like it when people don’t appreciate the gift of life and living and he especially doesn’t like it when they attempt to throw that opportunity away.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

overall he’s a very sleepy guy and he does have a bad habit of taking cat naps and not having an actual sleep schedule. i think i can also mention his horrible snoring and sleep apnea LOL

[heartfullofleeches]

I hope you don't mind hypotheticals, but I had an idea. What if, through some miracle, love of the reader became intrinsically linked to not just Lee, but her physical form as well, to the point that it might even influence Lucille if she were to become a separate consciousness from Lee. Imagine then the two becoming separated physically, yet Lucille has a completely human body, whereas Lee still has some shapeshifting capabilities you mentioned a while ago. Imagining Lucille as a separate entity that, while more aggressive and distant, is still attached to reader to the same degree Lee is, to the point of "cooperation" being achievable.

(What an interesting idea! I did some slight editing where Lee has the "human" body as she is the "host" personality. Hope you don't mind!) Tw: heavy body horror elements, small mentions of cannibalism and self harm.

-

The young woman stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. Lee, or at least the one who calls herself by that name, gazes into her own sunken eyes. The memories have started to blur together; the ones that make her who she is- and the ones she choose to forget. The crimes committed in the name of love and hunger. The reality of what she is, lying right beneath her skin.

Branding a kitchen knife, Lee braces herself for what's to come. She stabs the blade into her flesh, pulling it up the length of her arm. It takes a moment for the wound to bleed; a single, misplaced second her body takes to replicate a normal cut. It doesn't matter. Even without the passable anomaly, she can see what hides within her body. The red tendrils that make up her entire form; mending back together to repair the muscle and tendrils she'd torn through. She had even felt the knife hit bone.

Lee lurches over the sink, gripping her arm in disbelief. She didn't want to accept this- who she really was, but every time she closes her eyes she sees the what she has done or rather, what the other her had done. The other Lee, who snuffed the hungers of both her stomach and heart. Lucille.

Lee was weak. She couldn’t act on her true nature herself, she couldn't stand between you and the other people who longed for your affection, but Lucille could. She had everything Lee didn't, except for a heart - until recently. Lately, that starved, animalistic side had found a new appetite it needed to satisfy. The lust for companionship.

Lee's love for you had bleed over to that side of her; turning that sentient urge into its own complete conscious mind. A hostile entity with only two goals and would go to any extreme to reach them. Evolve and to protect her new found heart by any means. Lee didn't want that kind of life. She wanted to be free from the desire to consume human flesh and to live a normal life with you. She wanted to be human.

Lee digs her nails into the skin of her shoulders. She wanted to get rid of it all. This body made of roots and stolen flesh. Her fears of being unloved. Lucille- but she knows she's not strong enough to stay hole without it. That she'll fall apart, and become something completely incapable of earning your love. All she wanted was that, but it went so fat beyond the human understanding of the word. Even now, she could feel that other side of her growing; swallowing her doubts as it had done in the past. What is she if not a mockery of nature.

Breathe...

It speaks- she speaks. That voice in the back of her head that now had its own agenda; its own name. Lucille tells her to calm down; to gain control of her emotions. Lee doesn't want to. She just wants it out. Her inhumanity; the burning desire of being by your side.

"Get out. Get out!"

You need me.

Her nails break through the flesh; splitting tears that rip down the curve of her spine. Her entire body hurts. It feels so heavy. Something, something is growing from the root of her spine. Fingers protruding from the holes in her flesh; extending into the length of an arm as the roots within her body mend into another form. She falls to her knees as the mass continues to grow. A torso- a face. It separates from her as it grows beyond what her body can take; writhing on the bathroom floor as the rest of its tendrils weave together into a humanoid form.

Lee exhales; holding her shivering body as her eyes remain glued to the floor. She can feel her mangled flesh repairing itself as the entity on the other side of the room stands. Hesitantly, Lee looks over at it.

It was like a copy of her, but at the same time not. Its body was still the bright red color of her roots; holes littered throughout the woven structure of its new form. It had no face, only two narrow, grey eyes that bore into Lee's soul as their eyes met. Lucille lets put a shutter of a hush as she kneels before Lee, wiping the tears that stream down the other woman's face.

"Shhhh."

"W... what are you?"

"You already know the answer."

Lee looks down at her shaking hands. "What... what am I?"

"Human..."

Lucille lifts her her arm, stabbing a finger into her "flesh". It doesn't bleed, the roots simply merging back together when she removes her hand. She points at Lee's, blood dried into skin and staining the sleeve of her shirt.

"We are not the same, but we coexist as we have a common goal."

"You mean... them?"

Lucille nods. "Amongst other things. You have a face, a heart. Something we both do not possess, but you coward from what needs to be done. You are my face, I am your impulses. We are one"

She holds out her hand. "Do we have an agreement?'

Lee looks around at the floor. At the blood stained into the tiles. Not a drop of it came from Lucille. She takes her hand.

"...Yes."

[daandyli0n]

Hoo Boy, Here We Go. bear with me, this'll be a bit long:

so to make this as short as possible:

Wilbur, Local Single (Trans) Dad, Kinda Fucking Sucks. and by "kinda" i mean Definitely.

Fundy comes home with what looks like a regular human boy (Clem), but is actually a young demon (Clem used magic at the time to hide herself cause uh. People Are Assholes To Demons, To Put It Lightly). soon after, Fundy Also comes home with a young piglin hybrid boy named Tubbo.

Wilbur, Essentially, Fucks Up Three Whole Kids On Accident Somehow

Clem was the closest to him despite all of this. This Is Important For Later, Keep This Part In Mind.

Phil ends up killing Wilbur (haven't decided on the exact circumstances yet) in front of the three of them.

Clem takes this very hard.

the real Ghostbur just kinda leaves, basically going "Bye Losers, have fun with the trauma 👋😊" and nobody ever really hears from him again after this.

Clem's coping mechanism? Create This Idealized Version Of Wilbur In Their Head That Effectively Acts As Her Judgement (acts more or less like the Ghostbur we all know and love)

Fundy, now eighteen, leaves with Clem and Tubbo, who are around 14-15.

Few weeks later? Clem and Tubbo, who are perceived as just a couple of random lost children, are taken into The SMP to be given a home. Fundy attempts to follow after them but is denied entry. freaking out because he basically thinks Clem and Tubbo got kidnapped, shapeshifts into a fox and sneaks inside the server's borders that way. This Causes Problems, But That's For Another Thing.

fast forward to Exile. Clem's Going Through It. Kinda Starts Hallucinating Wilbur (like, ACTUAL Wilbur. not the idealized version it created in their head to act as an advice-giver), And It Shakes Her Up BIG TIME. she begins to effectively make a "new version" of Wilbur to differentiate from the actual one further. like, the way she envisions him is different and Everything. white hair, eyes are more brown than straight up amber yellow, freckles are stars, heck! Even A New Name! (Kasper) just. Enough So That They Don't Have To Think About Wilbur And Get Distressed Anymore.

(this was basically Clem's period of "Oh, I'm more fucked up by That than I thought I was, huh?" about the Wilbur Bullshit)

fast forward to Prison. Clem's been revived. It's Not Taking It Well. At This Point, Clem's Too Tired To Pretend To Be A Normal Human Anymore, So Everyone Knows About The Demon Thing.

Clem, now distressed enough that they're willing to try anything to not be left alone with Green Bitch over here, remembers that Eryn used to send her some instructions on how to do some rituals and stuff. because Fun Fact! They Are Capable Of Just. Summoning Things Into Existence.

you see where this is going?

Clem Does The Thing™ And Now Kasper Actually Exists. the problem is that this requires a lot of energy on her end, and she hasn't practiced her magic too thoroughly. so she basically almost passes out.

Kasper is confused as fuck. Dream is also confused as fuck, thinking that Clem just revived her Shitty Older Brother that she's been begging him not to revive. except. y'know. This Ain't Wilbur, And She Didn't Revive Him.

yes, this Does, in fact, mean that Dream is under the impression that Clem is capable of reviving people, and it just takes a lot for her to be able to do it. for the record, She Cannot, In Fact, Fucking Do That.

Kasper makes a commotion, Sam gets alerted, gets VERY confused as well, and then gets both of them out of there.

so uh. There's All That

Stuff Kasper Has Had To Deal With Since Then:

comparison's to Wilbur (it takes Tubbo and Fundy a while to get this)

Fundy's Daddy Issues (Kasper wants to try and be the father Fundy never really had. You Can Guess Why This Is Difficult)

Phil Now Being Pissed Because He Thinks Kasper Is Basically A Mockery Of His Dead Son (how many times does he have to say "I'm Not Wilbur" for people to get it?)

Dream, Don't Make Kasper Tap The Sign ("I'm not Wilbur, and Clementine can't revive people")

so. basically, I Like Ghostbur, I Miss Him, And I'm Trying To Ignore Canon And Cope With Some Bullshit.

i know you're more into Fire Emblem at the moment, but. well. got a Bit into dsmp again. left for a bit 'cause of a Certain Recent-ish Situation that basically tainted a character for me, so uh.

Trampled Dandelions lore is getting a tad bit (very) rewritten.

so if you'd like to hear about this one specific point of it:

i like to call it "This Is How I Cope With c!Wilbur Getting Ruined For Me"

basic summary is that Wil Haunts The Narrative (yes, all of it. i promise i can explain how i make this work), Ghostbur (or uh. A Version Of Him, to be more accurate) Is More Of The Main Character Now, And This Still Causes Family Drama And Problems

fair enough (and do not worry I’m always into c!prime the most)

[dumbledore-and-grindelwald]

This is an absolutely amazing scene because of the way it establishes part of Albus and Gellert’s conflict.

We know that Albus is in favor of using as little force as possible in any situation? But what is force? To Albus, using force is pushing the boundaries of one’s power in service of a goal. To Gellert force is power and power is force. He deeply believes that wizards are meant to use their gift at its fullest. There is an almost religious zealotry in his conviction.

In essence, Albus and Gellert have different definitions of sin. To Albus sin is succumbing to temptation and embracing one’s poisons: The kind of love that requires blinding oneself, arrogance, naiveté, but most of all, tring to escape one’s humanity. Albus does not believe in defying nature, as much as he sometimes wishes it was possible, and he does not believe in invulnerability. He tries to stay away from this version of sin and failing to do so is what leads to his death.

On the other hand, Gellert himself believes the opposite. He believes that wizards were given superior gifts for a reason, He thinks they are the top of the food chain and of civilization. Muggles are suvages; unreasonable creatures who destroy in their attempt to smother what they don’t understand and to make up for their natural inferiority. Wizards suppressing their powers and hiding goes against the natural order of things. If wizards can beat death, that’s part of nature too; otherwise it wouldn’t be within their capabilities. Turning one’s back on that and not fighting for their kind’s dominance is what he considers the greatest sin.

Of course, it feels that Albus’ idea of sin is shaped with the logic of a man doing penance, while Gellert’s comes from the perspective of someone who considers himself an avenging angel.

Interestingly enough, we are introduced to reanimation before the Global Wizarding War even begins. Albus mentions in the book that he pretended not to know that Gellert wanted to use the resurrection stone to raise an army of Inferi. Naturally, Gellert never got his hands on the stone, but we see him having already touched upon reanimation and there is time for him to develop the ability.

Albus does not believe that death itself is the worst that can happen to a person. Nevertheless, I think that an army of Inferi will touch a nerve; especially if a character from their group is among the dead, which would make the effect even more chilling and heartbreaking. To Albus ‘to hurt is as human as to breath’, and he knows the hurt that comes from yearning for dead loved ones to the marrow of his bones. We also know that he wanted to use the resurrection stone to see his dead family. Gellert resurrecting bodies to use them as puppets, as weapons, would be a blow to Albus; it would be a mockery of his humanity and a depravation of one of his most fundamental desires that mark him for the entirety of his life.

I genuinely believe that these themes will haunt as in the upcoming movies and will lead to a breaking point for both characters, but especially for Albus.

[singsongraptor]

Yesterday someone compared AI "art" to photography. I already ranted on it but one of my friends, an artisan herself, tried to defend the shit reasoning that AI is similar to photography, that I shouldnt be offended by the comparison, and that the pushback against AI was similar to being close minded about digital art as a traditional artisan who was trained to make most of her materials (fabric on a loom, glazes, etc). She also made a statement that a lot of art was made through plagiarism, a statement that is particularly offensive to me as a Black artisan, coming from a white artisan, considering how much white people steal and plagiarize from Black people in multiple industries and have done so for centuries, including stealing our lives through slavery.

I'm going to copy here my responses to her. So this will not be a "proper" essay and is not directed at anyone on here.

AI "art" is theft and plagiarism, full stop. It is run *entirely* on theft and plagiarism. There is nothing original or skilled about it. There's no practice or education required. There's no emotion behind it. It is NOT art. It cannot be art.

And, just because some art was made via theft doesn't mean more theft to make something art-adjacent is ok like what kind of messy reasoning is that?

The comparison is insulting to me as a photographer because I work hard at my craft. I work hard to learn about cameras, about photography as an art, about framing, lighting, aesthetics, about post processing and the programs used for them.

An AI doesn't and cannot understand any of that. There's neither effort nor genuine learning. It merely mimics what it's programmers have told it "looks nice" based on the theft of thousands of hours of real artists' work. It cannot dream or imagine, only mix and warp what real people have dreamed and imagined, taking food from their mouths and devaluing the effort and skill they actually cultivated.

AI art is a mockery of art, because it literally cannot create. It can *only* steal and is a glorified copy-paste-morph tool.

I find this comparison offensive because it DOES take away from photography. It actively denigrates how photography as an art is accomplished, and the effort and education and time and technical skill and artistic eye that must be developed.

My camera is not less complex than the glazes and fabric you learned how to make. To take good photos requires you to understand the breadth and depth of your camera's limitations and capabilities, along with your lenses. It requires knowing how the various settings and components work together to capture your intended shot. Understanding color and light are critical, as well as understanding how the camera and the human eye see and utilize both.

Understanding perspective, and other artistic concepts of drawing, painting, and even sculpture, are valuable knowledge points that need to be developed just as much for photographers as artisans and artists, particularly if you're trying to capture motion and small subjects, or unique perspectives, such as in macro photography, which is the kind I do the most.

Post processing is its own skillset, not just in managing the programs themselves but in how they can be used to craft the piece you want from the photo you took. And that's just digital photography. Analog photography is an entirely different ballgame and the dark room skills are not something that can just be picked up by any schmuck with a smartphone or a film camera.

Reducing the years I have spent educating myself and honing my craft, learning hundreds of concepts and skills, which I still can improve and seek to improve every day to "choosing some elements and settings" is a vile insult to me personally and to the field of photography as an art form in general. My camera is not generating art, I am. It is me. I am the one with the skillset, not my camera.

The AI doesn't have any skills either. It has done no work, it has no understanding, just like my camera. The difference is my camera is a tool like pencil and paper, or clay and glaze. The AI is a computer making guesses on what "looks nice" by taking millions of hours of actual humans' effort, education, practice, imagination and labor and smashing them together. Don't insult me and my craft please.

One last thing. You said: "people bringing up algorithmic theft have obviously never spent any time looking at other art, or seeing how much art begat other art through theft."

Coming from you, a ⚪️ woman, to me, a Black person, that is incredibly insulting and insensitive. Your people have been stealing from mine in every single industry, including and especially the sciences, art, music, and artisan trades like fashion, for centuries. Your people have stolen my ancestors' entire lives and legacies. They continue to steal our ideas and our intellectual property to this day. All while suppressing and denigrating our cultures and contributions to a massive variety of fields.

Your people do not even see us as capable of contributing to various fields unless we're godlike in skill, cater and pander to your judgment, and distance and debase ourselves from our people and communities. And still your people will steal and take credit even then. Your people's mediocrity is celebrated while our greatness is maligned and denigrated. Ignored. At least until what we made or discovered is colonized.

AI art is a tool sure, but only insofar as it's the extension of colonization and capitalism. Please do not try and justify its use because "a lot of art came from theft." I, far more than you seem to realize, am aware of that, if only because my people cannot even get into our fields while yours get awards and recognition from what we've made.