#but also this could still be expanded upon

[silent-browser]

Sooooo.... I continued it... But not really. Also I never continue things so fair warning if there is a drop in quality.

I was rewatching Scara's introduction and got to the point where he talked about the "Third Betrayal" and only JUST NOW realized that he doesn't understand death because he is a puppet and was probably still super young at that point and it usually takes normal human children a long time to come to terms and fully understand their mortality. He doesn't have to do that because he was originally built to last as long as possible. He had to be built that way to house a gnosis. And as a result death would have been a very hard concept to fully grasp.

Sure he understands that of you hurt someone enough they go down and possibly even stop breathing but they'll get up soon enough right? I mean how else would his enemies have so many people to fight for them if those still people didn't just get up and go back to what they were doing before? (Which was fighting him) He would probably need something big to force him to really understand death in a very short amount of time. (Hehehe)

Say perhaps if his precious Companion were to get injured for the first time in some random skirmish against hilichurls and he dismisses it. He's seen mortals leak the red before but he doesn't see it as any more than an annoyance when it gets on his clothes. His Companion insists on stopping to "clean up the wound" which he agrees to. That red stuff can really stain good clothing and other mortals look so weird and weary if you try to interact with them while still wearing the stains. And, even more importantly, such stains may get in the way if his future cuddle time.

After they are done fiddling with the wound and some random scraps of fabric they continue on but strangely enough his Companion doesn't seem to be doing as well as before. The injured body part seems weaker and is starting to become warm, sore and puffy. They have started to apply strange plant mixtures to the offending area, claiming that these poultices would help the injury "heal" though it seems to be doing the opposite. It was when they were about to leave the supposedly beautiful Qingce Village (he thought his companion looks 100× better than this random village of old people) that his Companion stumbled in their step before looking up at him and saying "please don't get mad" before dropping to the ground.

Scaramouche had never been so afraid. Not after being abandoned by his mother, not after loosing his friend, not after every hard fought battle and not even after loosing the gnosis he so craved. He watched their precious, delicate, achingly mortal body fall and screamed. He saw visions. Vivid as if he was right back to when they happened. Visions of soldiers felled by his blade, visions of Dottore's lab after he was done experimenting with delusions and the effects they had on mortal bodies and visions of the child he had once called friend laying still in that suffocating shack.

Near by villagers came rushing over to the small campsite that the two strange wanderers had insisted on setting up instead of staying in a guest house, to find a very distraught looking young man clutching on to his softer spoken companion as if they were his life line. Villagers quickly leapt to action and gently guided the young man to bring them to a cleaner space than the open air campsite and, with much coaxing and promises that he can remain by their side during the examination, to let go of them so that a local doctor can take a closer look at them.

When it is confirmed that the seemingly insignificant wound they had gotten from that hilichurl fight not to long ago was now infected and a much more serious problem than it once was Scara is devastated. How could this happen? Why did it happen? What does this mean for his Companion? What exactly is an infection? He almost holds this poor doctor hostage until he gets all of his questions answered and he understands the situation better. Once the poor doctor is release from the room and scara has a moment to think...

'Their injury is infected. They got injured in a fight. A fight that I obviously didn't protect them well enough in. Therefore they got injured because of me. That must be why they told me not to get mad. They knew that I failed to protect them. They knew and yet they still traveled with me. They don't want me to get mad.... At myself...'

He spends a lot of time stewing in that mental space. Thinking about things he could have done better in the fight. Thinking about all of the signs that something was wrong that he didn't notice. All of the winces when ever his hand brushed the injury when he want to hug or cuddle them. All of the herbal poultices used in vain to keep the infection at bay. All of the moments taken to rest that he misinterpreted as more head pat time for him. All of the selfish actions he took that might have made it worse. Thinking about what might have happened if they weren't anywhere near other people when they collapsed. Those thoughts scare him the most.

The only time he spends outside of his own head is when the local doctor comes by to redress and check on the wound. During that time he pays close attention to what the doctor is doing so that he could replicate it in the future, should he fail to protect them from another injury again. He gains a sudden interest in medicine after all of this.

After a week or two you are deemed healthy enough to travel once more, something scara is particularly excited about. Traveling will mean less of your attention is focused on other beings and a new chance to prove himself worthy of your praise and affections. A chance he will never take lightly ever again.

Scara becomes more protective after this experience. Insisting on looking you over after every single fight. Doesn't matter if you were even involved in the fight. Doesn't matter if his own limbs are hanging on by mere threads. Doesn't matter is some random guard or adventurer had gotten involved as well and were more obviously hurt. He is checking his Companion over for even the smallest scrape so that the ever looming threat of death could never claim you.

Not that he exactly had the right word for that feeling yet.

[camellcat]

right, so, as I was questioning the whole "why did the clockwork droids say rose was compatible?" it made me think of a fun fic idea where the droids are able to scan rose earlier and find her “compatible” or whatever, and now the episode is about finding a way to stop the droids, hoping that they don't lose their attention of trying to get rose, and making sure neither rose nor reinette are murked along the way

and, yeah, if the droids are focused on rose, they could just hop in the tardis and leave. but then, where does that leave history?

but at the same time, dilemma for the doctor by staying and consciously, actively deciding to put rose in harm's way, which I feel could be another fun “I could save the world but lose you” “do it” except a hell of a lot more tense between the two of them

like, I can just see a very upset and snappish doctor having to choose to stay on the ship with the droids bc this bit of history CAN'T be rewritten, except...

rose, and everything that just happened with sarah jane smith, and remembering that rose can very well leave him and die and will die eventually but could die NOW if he doesn't figure out how to save the day quick enough

and rose, also on edge from last episode, but also bc oh my god she's being hunted down like game for this insane ship repair. but also, would never ask him not to choose this, just also please please figure this out as quick as you can doctor bc she'd really rather not die ta

or like, imagine him going into rose's head, but it's horrible for them both bc he wants to soo bad, but not like this, never because of this. and she's just had bloody casandra rummaging around in there just a while ago, it can't be nice to have even MORE picking through her thoughts and memories. and, ohhh, I bet he'd be furious at how much rose has been messed with by casandra and the droids and then by him himself even if he means well, only wants to help

anyhow, I just think that'd be fun to read. surprised it's not been done before!

[thisgirliscatastrophic]

What am I thinking about right now?

Daisuke talking to a crest and Hikari being possessed by homeostasis.

[twinstxrs]

boo *exu calamity au’s your bad kids*

[rozugold]

Hi rozu. I have another thought about your genus loci Tommy art that's probably just me being in hyper writer brain mode, but-

the way that his shirt in the second image of him and Tubbo is so...plain. It doesn't look like his usual tee with the red sleeves. It isn't a cardigan or anything. It's just a comfortable looking plain t-shirt that he's probably sewn to fit his current size at the end of his physical existence. Because he knows he won't need clothes for much longer. He knows they'll either vanish or be left behind as soon as he merges with the landscape, so he's not wearing anything that he'll get attached to or making it pretty or giving it any personal touches. IDK it just. made me think for a sec,,,,ough

OUHGG…

[woolydemon]

for ppl that know my tf fan lore you would think I'd be ryu/kita pilled since I was blur/bee CEO but actually I was driven by my shock/bee instincts to be drawn to ake/kita instead <- none of these words are in the bible

[unproduciblesmackdown]

winnie & bagel

[gothamcityneedsme]

also. The start of the game forcing u into the genesis comic feels. Very silly. its a tonal jump from the death to like have sudden narration. It shouldve been framed differently idk. Or just. Not inserted into the story. Anyways.

Love the beginning of this game. Setup is so good. I love Jacob and Mirandas intros. Jacob as the one who tells you the truth, who has a moral compass vs Mirandas sole purpose and drive for two years being to bring you back to life regardless of her impression or opinion of you personally.

[chisatowo]

I've been compiling my favorite splatoon songs into a playlist, and I just realised it's been fucking forever since I've listened to the splat 1 ost, I have no fucking clue which songs I like and it's a bit late to be listening to the whole ost rn, god I wish younger me actually payed attention to the ost and had opinions on it gkfmdkd

[kaleschmidt]

Actually with the last post I made, I'd like to break out this tier list

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[oceanxveiined]

At her very core, she is the very definition of “jack of all trades, master of none”. She has a acquired a multitude of skills—dance, inventing, song, penmanship and composition, combat, strategy, and investigation, among others—but there is always someone within the Snake Eyes group who will always surpass her in some regard. So why does Ozzy keep her around?

Well, if there’s something she has above everyone else, it’s her tenacity and her daring

[peachedtvs]

ALASTOR TENDING TO LICKING YOUR WOUNDS ft!Alastor

✧ After an accidental paper cut, Alastor loses control momentarily and licks up your blood. 0.9wc

Imagine you and Alastor are staying up late one night, trying to decorate the hotel as a celebration for surviving the recent extermination.

All of this was your idea, Alastor simply tagging along as he was intrigued by how you were planning to decorate the hotel with mere ribbons and colored paper in a single night. The new renovations have expanded the hotel extensively, almost doubling its size—intriguing him on how your little passionate project could even be possible when done alone. If you were successful, Alastor could be content by the way Charlie's face would light up in the morning. If you failed, Alastor could soak up your disappointment! It was a win-win for him.

You furrowed your brows, hunched over a coffee table in the hotel reception, kneeling on the floor as Alastor sat reading not too far from you. You were focused on delicately carving the page before you, fingers delicately wrapped around a sharp paper-knife.

Outside, the rain was pouring. You never were a fan of thunderstorms, the booming sounds from outside snapping you out of your deep concentration every couple of minutes—some of the blaring clashes pairing with a bright flicker of light that made you flinch. Alastor found you amusing, being so passionate in something no one had asked you for, in something that would be unnecessary and also unnecessarily difficult for you to be done alone. The fact that you were pulling an all-nighter for this endeavor was even more entertaining, as you'd become all cranky once the next afternoon would come.

You let out a harsh sigh, your chest falling so far it seems as though you deflated. You regained your composure, holding your two hands close together as you pressed the page down into the table below—holding it in place as you carved a particularly intricate piece in the page when a shockingly loud crash thundered from outside. You flinched much too harshly this time, your wrist slipping and the paper-knife nicking the side of your index finger. You hiss, dropping the bloodied paper knife onto the table as it stained the pure white page below.

Alastor swore the air became heavier.

He didn't know what had so severely caught his instincts, but his wide eyes immediately darted to you before he could even process the situation—eyes locked onto the deep red trickling down your index. You hadn't even begun to notice him yet, hadn't noticed the way the air in the reception hall seemed to shift at the scent of your blood, how the light momentarily flickered.

You had such a sweet aroma.

An aroma that threatened Alastor's sanity.

Alastor's breath hitched sharply, snapping the book closed by the spine as he laid it as gently as he could upon the side table by his seat. Before he could even process it, your wrist was gripped into the palm of his hand—held firmly as you looked up to him.

The blood from your index trailed down the appendage, dipping down to the joint of your thumb as you looked up to him—startled by how quickly he had moved without you even noticing.

"Ala—"

"It would be wise to be more careful with that knife of yours, my Dear." He brought your wrist closer, his eyes locked on your hand. "Your clumsiness has put me in quite a difficult position." You looked at him intently, still sitting on the ground while Alastor was bent at the waist, holding your wrist up to meet his lips—when his tongue gently ran up the side of your palm before cleaning the blood smoothly. The moment he had your taste on his tongue, he felt his sanity slip away.

This wasn't like his usual respectful self, but he was unable to concentrate. Your flesh was euphoric. The kind he'd savor for weeks, the kind he wouldn't even need to cook or prepare beforehand. Fresh off the bone sort kind of sweet, a sickeningly addictive taste paired with a perfectly prominent metallic tang that had him wanting more.

Although, he was much too fond of you to rip you apart.

And so, Alastor vouched for slipping your finger into his mouth. His long tongue wrapped around the digit, a sting from his saliva sinking into the wound had you wince—your face looked beautiful in pain.

Alastor knew you trusted him, explaining why you hadn't pulled away. Instead, looking at him with a shocked and confused expression—ignoring your pain in his favor, just like the kind little soul you are.

Alastor pulled away, plucking a handkerchief from his pocket to clean your hand completely.

"My apologies, mon cher. I hope you didn't mind my little midnight snack." Alastor smiled to you, clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his lost composure. Although, he couldn't hide the lack of light in his eyes, and he couldn't suppress the wretched thoughts that clouded his head. He wanted to sink his teeth into your neck, to hear your pilant sounds of pain as he carved his bite into your flesh. He wouldn't tear into you, no. Simply mark you, border on the edge of savouring you in his mind completely and staying the gentleman he was raised to be.

In his own strange way, Alastor cared for you.

He wanted to wrap you into his embrace, overwhelm you as you'd tried to shrink away with nowhere to escape from him. He wanted to engrave your taste deep into his memory, to dig into your arms as he'd hold you scarily still.

For now, the only desire he could fulfill now laid upon his desk. A thin tendril of his shadows had swiped both the blood-soiled page and paper knife from the coffee table behind you and delivered it to his bedroom.

Alastor was no sentimental man, but he'd treasure a memory of your flesh to the grave.

You're watching...

© Peached TVs 2024

[lovverletters]

Been waiting for this lol

*Ahem* I introduced Yan husband! Finally, after years of waiting and stalking and murdering (if that's cool), he finally has you! He worships you every day and reminds you how lucky he is, and he tells everyone how he's so lucky and how you're perfect!

Yandere! Husband

A/N : Thanks for requesting! Hope you like it, 🌻 anon!

T/W : soft yandere, stalking, implied murder, non consentual photographing, stealing items, this is late asf

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"Honey, do you remember how we met?"

[Name] asked their husband of 6 years as they flip through their old journal, reliving their countless embarrassing, bitter and sweet memories of their youth.

They had been sifting through the storage closet earlier when they stumbled upon a box containing their old belongings dating back from when they were still studying in high school until they got married to their husband, Derek.

"Of course I do, it's the day I met the love of my life" He says with a smile on his face.

"Psh.. you're so cheesy Derry" [Name] swatted their husband's shoulder playfully, flustered at his words.

"What? I'm being honest. Every moment spent with you is unforgettable" A dark glint was present in his eyes as he uttered his reply.

How could he ever forget the day he met his beloved [Name]?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Derek had been in his senior year of high school by the time he met [Name].

They had only recently moved to his hometown and enroll to the high school. He could still recall their timid expression as they asked him for directions, at that moment Derek brushed off the encounter as a one time thing.

He was graduating and they were a junior, he'll probably won't see them again.

Until Derek started to bump into [Name] more frequently albeit it being only a coincidence. [Name] would notice his presence and greeted him with a small wave everytime they pass by each other in the hallway or waiting in line during lunch.

Eventually, he finally spoke to them one day. It felt odd for him to be around them yet never uttering a single word.

It was the best decision he ever made.

"Uhㅡhey" Derek cursed himself inwardly for choking on his words.

[Name]'s eyes widened, spooked to hear him talk to them. They mustered up a crooked smile after recollecting themself to reply to him.

"Derek, hi. Sorry, I was on my phone that I didn't notice you behind me"

From then, something shifted in him. Their conversation faded into a white noise in his ears as his thoughts became fixated in [Name]'s voice.

He had heard them speak before but it felt different when they're talking to him. Their voice engraving itself into his brain like an earworm.

It doesn't stop there, their interaction expanded as their friendship blooms. [Name] would seek him out on subjects they were struggling on despite having other student who would eagerly help themㅡ his heart swells with pride knowing that it's him whom they're relying on.

Derek would also began inviting them to his football practice as an excuse to invite them for an ice cream laterㅡ and to also flex his athleticism in hopes of receiving praises from them.

He's not stupid, he knows that he likes themㅡ loves them. Maybe he had been a fool for underestimating his feelings for them.

It had been an unfortunate timing that he had never been able to confess to [Name] as his graduation passes and he was wrapped up with preparing for his higher education.

Those times away and distance from [Name] were hellish. Derek felt his sanity wanning with each day passes and his thoughts were constantly thinking of [Name].

What are they doing, Where they're at, Who they're withㅡ They don't have a partner don't they? They didn't replace me did they?? I'll kill that bastard who took my placㅡ

He finally cracked after stalking through their social media page and seeing the other student having grown close to them within months of his absence.

Derek decided that he's had enough sitting around in the sidelines with an aching heart. He'll make his move and insured that [Name] will be his.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"I then drove back to back from my university to yours for years until I finally had enough and decided to ask you to move in with me" He traced the picture they took on their first day moving into his house.

[Name] snorted and pinched their husband's cheek, laughing as they teased him.

"Silly, you, I can't believe you rent out an apartment just because you can't be away from me anymore"

Derek huffed and flipped to the next page, tracing [Name]'s photo as he always does everytime he sees it.

"I love you too much, it hurt's to not be around your presence. I feel like I was going to die with each hour passes without you"

"Mmh sure, how come you never died after leaving me everytime you have to go back?" [Name] attempt at poking at their husband again.

Only to receive an unexpected answer.

"I never left" Derek uttered. No elaboration whatsoever.

Silence follows after as the cogs in [Name]'s brain turn to process what their sweet stupid dork husband just said.

Derek closed the journal shut and stood up, planting a kiss on their temple.

"I'm going to prepare dinner now. You better come and eat when I call you before continuing your clean up! No buts and ifs, okay love?" He gave them another kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

Come to think of it, Derek had re-entered their life at a time where their newfound friend tragically passed in a mysterious incident. [Name] had been devastated and clung to Derek for comfort before it eventually delved into them being in a relationship with the man.

Everything was perfect. Too perfect if they had to be honest. It's almost as if he had planned it.

They shook off the thoughts and continued sorting through the old boxes when one of the contents surprised them.

It was the items they thought they had lost or threw away. But how could Derek have it when they had lost it before they begun dating. The polaroids were also odd as Derek weren't around during their senior year when it was takenㅡ if the dates marked was correct.

"Honey! Dinner's ready"

They'll ask him about it later.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[smokesandsonatas]

wait so do all of the in-laws want grandchildren…?

I don't see all of the TWST in-laws pushing their sons to have children. But some of them, due to differing circumstances, might encourage or even require (You) Yuu and their son to have children.

Here's a list of characters that I think may face such expectations from their families:

Draconia Family: Malleus is one of the last known surviving members of the Draconia bloodline, alongside his grandmother, the current queen of Briar Valley. There are only 2 Draconias left, as far as we know. As royalty in the fae world, lineage is crucial for both political stability and the continuation of magical traditions. It would be expected that Malleus, upon marriage, should have children to secure the continuation of the Draconia line and ensure that the legacy of the fae kingdom persists. His family—and the broader fae community—might consider it his royal duty to produce an heir to maintain the kingdom's strength and heritage. Ensuring that they will still have a Draconian ruler should time come to pass.

Shroud Family: The Shroud family carries a heavy legacy of responsibility and duty, they need to continuously manage S.T.Y.X. As keepers of Tartarus/Phantoms, tied to life and death, it’s likely that they would expect a successor. In the case of Idia, his introverted nature might make this pressure even more overwhelming. I imagine Idia might be reluctant to bring another Shroud into the world given their curse. However, the need for a capable heir to continue the Shroud family’s responsibility is expected of him.

Kingscholar Family: As a member of the royal family of Sunset Savanna, Leona’s position as the second prince places him in a complicated situation. Though he is not the crown prince, there might still be an expectation for him to have children, especially if something happens to the direct heir (If Falena's direct line, Cheka is affected). Royal families typically focus on ensuring the continuation of their bloodline, and it does not exempt him from the weight of these expectations. There could be pressure from his family to contribute to the royal line’s security, ensuring the Kingscholar's leadership for future generations.

Al-Asim Family: The Al-Asim family is one of immense wealth and power, with a significant focus on maintaining their influence and control over their business empire. As the heir to this massive fortune, Kalim is likely to face pressure to marry and have children to secure the family’s continued prosperity. Having an heir would not only ensure the Al-Asims remains powerful but would also provide continuity in leadership, safeguarding the family’s wealth and influence across generations.

Ashengrotto Family: Though Azul's family is well, 'normal' in this context, there may be societal or even personal expectations for him to have an heir, particularly if his business empire continues to grow. Azul, particularly his maternal lineage are notable mages in the Coral sea. I imagine there will be unsaid pressure for him to continue his Ashengrotto line. He is a shrewd businessman and Azul may view having an heir as securing a legacy, someone to inherit and manage the empire he will build in the future. His goal to have an heir is maybe more of a personal ambition rather than familial or societal demands.

Leech Family : The Leech twins come from a very different perspective, the other chaotic, while the other one relishes in chaos. It is said that their family manage successful businesses in both land and sea. If we consider the Leech family as akin to mobsters or powerful figures in the merfolk world, their business operations likely extend across various places, possibly using both legal and less-than-legal means to expand their influence. With such a network, there is a strong sense of obligation to ensure that the family's control and legacy continue into the next generation. In this case, Floyd and Jade, despite their chaotic nature, would be expected to contribute to the family line to preserve the power structure their family has built.

Or Jade, and Floyd would just want to have children just for the fun of it. Who knows, really. ;))