#everyone gets hurt by its horrors in the process

[gurorori]

watched graveyard of the fireflies...

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[crimson-rain-smoked-flower]

I’m not trying to attack you, but do you know that proshipper means someone who supports and romanticizes pedophilia, incest, and abuse? Your reblog on that post seems to read that you think antis just hate on people for having ships they don’t like. But it’s completely different than that. Just looking on the proshipper side of Tumblr and the internet and you can see people happily shipping children and adults and making nsfw content of such things.

i appreciate that you're not being outright hostile, but i have to say, that on its own put you above basically every anti i've interacted with.

i understand where antis are coming from, i really do. there are a lot of things on the internet that make me deeply uncomfortable, including the minor/adult ships that you mention. i don't want to anything to do with those kinds of ships and i would be happiest if i never saw them again. which is why i'm proship.

nine times out of ten, if i see that kind of ship brought up on my dash, it's because i was following an anti without realizing it, and they brought it up unprompted and untagged, to talk about how bad it is that they exist. they are the ones putting that kind of content in front of my face and making it harder to avoid.

the thing about people who ship those ships is that they're generally very aware that not everyone wants to see that kind of content, and so they tag it. they make sideblogs to talk about it. they don't go out of their way to shove it in people's faces. that means i, and everyone else who doesn't like it, can avoid it.

what antis want is for it to not exist at all. they want the tags to be purged and blocked, and for anyone who uses those tags to have their accounts deleted. and sure, that might get rid of some of it, but do you know what would happen to the rest? it would stop being tagged. people who don't want to see it wouldn't have the tools to avoid it. this isn't just a hypothetical, that's what's happened any time a fan space has tried to do that.

that's not even getting into the rabbit hole of what should be banned and what shouldn't. obviously any content that depicts real children or real life abuse shouldn't exist and shouldn't be allowed to be posted, but basically any platform that people use already enforces those policies, and there's not much of a slippery slope to go down there. if it involves real living breathing people being abused, it's bad. end of discussion.

but the same can't be said for fiction. ask ten antis for a specific list of all the content that should be banned, and you'll get ten different answers. what about kink? what about roleplay? what about horror and murder and anything that involves fictional characters being graphically tortured? what about people using art to process terrible things that have happened to them? what about art that uses dark themes as a horror element? if you just want to ban anything questionable to anyone, that's the line of thinking that gets any mention of lgbt existence banned. and again, this isn't just a hypothetical, this has happened before, and that's generally where it leads.

i know, from personal experience, that antis do, in fact, send harassment to people just for shipping things they don't like. i've gotten accused of absolutely vile shit for shipping two fictional characters who were both consenting adults. i've seen ship wars turn into moral battlegrounds, over ships that an average person wouldn't bat an eye at.

the thing about "romanticization" is a whole other can of worms. the anti logic goes like this: if someone sees something (even if it's very obviously fictional) in a positive light enough times, they will start thinking it's okay in real life, and go on to hurt real people. the problem with that is that it's just. blatantly untrue.

if it were true every horror movie fan would be a serial killer, every person that studies dark media would be an unhinged psychopath, and everyone who is into ddlg would be a pedophile. but they're not. they just aren't. people have directed movies just as fucked up as the darkest shit on ao3, and are still capable of being normal human beings who know right from wrong in real life.

even if someone is that impressionable, scrubbing away the existence of every piece of questionable content isn't going to solve their problem, because they're still going to be vulnerable to con men, scams, and cultists. the only thing that would actually materially help someone like that is developing their own morals and critical thinking.

children are also more impressionable, and there's a lot of content that's not suitable for them, but that doesn't mean that content shouldn't exist. it just means that they should stick to spaces designed for them (which most social media sites, tumblr included, are not) or, if they're old enough to be responsible for their experience online, they, or a trusted adult in their lives, should block and filter out things that they aren't comfortable with.

which is what everyone on the internet should be doing. it's what i do, and it's made the internet a much more pleasant place to be. and it's why i sometimes worry for antis mental health, especially teenagers, because they're being told it's right and moral to seek out content that makes them uncomfortable and to engage with the people making it. and that's just. really bad. it's not good for the creators that they're harassing obviously, but it's also really bad for them! it's not healthy to seek out things that make you feel bad, and it's a terrible internet safety lesson to teach minors that it's okay for them to seek out and engage with people making adult content.

individual harassment and crusading is never going to succeed at removing dark content from the internet. it just isn't. at best you might get a small percentage of people who create that content to stop sharing it, at worst you're just going to make people stop tagging it, and either way, you're exposing yourself to things that make you feel bad, when you don't have to.

if you want to materially change the type of content you see, you can. the block button is your friend, use it liberally. same with content filtering and tag blocking.

[vaguely-concerned]

it probably says something either sad or deeply unfortunate about me as a person, but I'm darkly amused to see some people react to the reveal of the ultimate permeability of souls in tlt as a triumphant thing -- the "you can't take 'loved' away!!!" side of it all -- when my first reaction was such an immediate wave of 'oh, oh so this is why this series is horror, I truly understand now' distress haha. ngl the final confirmation of the self not being inviolable in the deepest way freaks me the fuck out far more than any moment of body horror in the series has managed. (these two elements are of course the two sides of one thematic coin; it's about the horror of our bodies and minds and selves not being inviolable things, and about the effect of violence on them on so many different levels. violence psychological and interpersonal, physical, subtextually sexual, emotional, medical, political, a whole unlovely smörgåsbord of indignity and violation a person can be exposed to, and on a broader scale the spectrum of violence colonialism wields). The world and other people being capable of leaving indelible marks on us for good or ill through their presence in our lives is of course a pretty self-evident demonstrable truth in the real world, but somehow having it be proven metaphysically just uh. Fucks me up! 

It also drives home to me just how perfectly Muir has captured the dilemma at the heart of human connection and intimacy: the fact that the thing that gives us life and meaning is also capable of harming us so deeply. the same thing that can be so beautiful — even in a bittersweet, violently transformative form like with the creation of Paul — when done mutually and consensually and compassionately, is the same process that means someone like John can touch someone else's soul and 'after he's put his fingers on something, you'll never find anyone else's fingerprints on it; too much noise'. I think the text itself — the whole series, because to me this is what it is ultimately about, this tension between individuation/self vs. love/connection/enmeshment — is far more ambivalent in its treatment of it than saying it’s inherently a good thing or inherently a bad thing. The only thing it says for sure is that it is always a thing, that thinking you’re ever getting away from it is the height of futility, and that through being alive (or even through being dead lol) it is something you have to engage with in some way no matter what. Contact with other people is deeply necessary — without it we sicken and die. it can be the most beautiful and meaningful thing in a human life, and the most unspeakably horrific. All of these people are searching for some way to be whole, whether in total self-contained sufficiency on their own or in melding with someone else as their ‘other half’, and stumbling around in the dark they reach for each other and score deep wounds into the thing they’re trying to touch even when they don’t mean to. Taken to horrific extremes with the form of lyctorhood John guided his disciples to when they were ‘children — playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water, thinking it was space’, because while people hurt each other all the time with differing levels of intentionality behind it, what John did was deliberate. It weaponizes the misapprehension of what closeness must be and destroys everyone involved in the process… and all because it leaves John the one sun their ruined lives have left to orbit around, because that’s the closest thing his soul will allow to connection. He doesn’t understand that to truly touch something you have to truly let it touch you back, and then wonders why he’s never satisfied.   

‘The horrors of love’ has been memed to death, I know, but… yeah. That is what it is, isn’t it.

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: I’ll leave the sentimental stuff for the end <3 Here’s the masterlist!!!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, reader is 20 years old, Reader uses "Cattus" as her alias, reader's nicknames are Cactus, Cattus and Cat, war, reader gets hurt and hits her head a lot, hints of misogyny, betrayals, Kirishima’s just the best, character death, gore and blood, bad war descriptions lol what do you expect from me, reader is AFAB , ANGST, PTSD, mentions of burns, kabedon, you kiss him, a sweet moment between Katsuki and reader :), happy ending

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ: The Lake

You can’t breathe.

Denki’s blood stains the stone beneath him. Ejiro runs to his side, but all you can do is stand there in shock.

How could you be so reckless?!

“Kirishima, protect him!” you roar, the red head flinching at the sound of his surname. He's not used to seeing you like this, but nods firmly, making a makeshift bandage in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

You can’t risk looking back. You needed to continue to take down the two men in an instant before running off, determined to take down as many as you could.

BOOM!

A large explosion knocks you off balance, the same follows for everyone in your sight, watching in horror as 5 large machines demolish the rest of the capital gates.

Tanks.

Shit.

The Inimican flag is held proudly, attached to the first tank in the center. You want to rip it off.

Soldiers from both sides scramble away from them to ensure they wouldn’t be crushed by the monstrous hunks of metal that were destroying your home.

You take in a shaky deep breath, trying to block out the destruction all around you.

You needed to think.

Inimicus, you knew, had a very different culture when it came to combat. While their highest ranking military official was on the battlefield, they wouldn’t actively be engaging in combat - instead opting to remain somewhere safe where they could call the shots.

You needed to find which of the armored tanks housed said person. If you could at least take them down, the rest would follow suit.

You bolt in the opposite direction as your comrades, straight towards the tanks, frantically searching for the one thing that would bring your plan to fruition.

You run - so fast you could fly - and yet, it was still not enough, because your friend was bleeding out and about to die.

Finally, you find it.

A gargantuan tank, the color of coal, with silver letters emblazoned on its side.

The Palanquin.

That’s where the leader would be.

And so, that’s where you needed to go.

***

It wasn’t easy trying to sneak into a giant tank, to say the least.

Especially while it was moving.

You sigh, deciding there was no point in contemplating how to discreetly enter and instead work things one step at a time.

First, you need to get close.

Sprinting directly in the direction of The Palanquin, you hear Kirishima’s screams begging you to come back.

You don't listen.

You run until you feel like the air has been sucked out of your lungs, close enough now that your fingertips can graze the roaring metal if you stick your hand out.

Examining the structure, you see a ledge on the tank that's inverted, a decently sized area for you to jump on to.

You lower your torso, still sprinting before launching yourself from the balls of your feet, landing on the ledge, but banging your head against the metal walls of The Palanquin in the process.

“Ah- gods dammit! Fucking hell…” you grumble, now battling the severe ache in your head that started to form.

Eyes latching onto a panel at the bottom of the platform you stood on, you got to thinking. You could pry it open, maybe slip in quietly. Stomping experimentally, you hear a hollow thud, meaning you’d have an area to slip into. You just distant humming - ventilation? That would be perfect. Through the vents you could discreetly go around The Palanquin without anyone noticing; it was unusual however, considering most tanks didn’t have a vent in the first place. But considering The Palanquin was a defensive tank, it made sense.

Brandishing your sword, you accidentally disrupt your balance, wobbling before regaining your stance, lodging your sword into the side of the panel to use it like a lever.

Once it’s far down enough, you push down, using the force to pop open the panel.

Creeaaaak.

The panel pops open, and for a moment, you feel triumphant.

But then your sword’s blade snaps in half.

Fuck.

You groan internally, knowing that it was most definitely a suicide mission to go and fight the Inimican military head without your weapon, but you had no choice. At least you still had your dagger and stars.

There was no going back.

You sigh, heart heavy as you throw it off the side of The Palanquin before slipping into the crawlspace the panel had created.

It was dark, but a few vent covers provided a dim light source along the bottom of the ventilation tubes.

Suddenly you hear voices, fear freezing you in place, even though you knew they couldn’t hear you.

“They’re all running- buncha cowards if you ask me.”

“Come now, they’re only human. It’s remarkable how they have such survival instincts.”

You shudder silently at the latter’s tone of voice. They spoke about the human race as if they were pets, something subliminal.

It was disgusting.

Pushing away your irritation and sudden urge to defend the human race, you silent keep crawling, until you spot an empty room through one of the vent covers.

Luckily, you didn’t have to pry this one open, the cover popping open immediately one you hooked your fingers underneath the metal.

You slip into the space, dropping down and barely managing to land on your feet, only to lose your balance as the entire tank shudders, mentally sobbing as you realize you were going to hit your head for the second time today, only to be yanked upwards at the last minute and coming face to face with those angered vermillion eyes that had been plaguing you constantly.

Bakugou?!

Your eyes widen, emotions all flooding in at once. You wanted to slap him, but also run away and cry in a corner, or just disappear entirely, too embarrassed for any type of confrontation. And there was one more - you hated yourself for it though. You felt…giddy?

Bakugou however, had no such emotions, eyes taking in his surroundings and listening intently for anyone approaching before returning his sharp gaze back to you.

“What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?!” he whispers harshly, and you will yourself not to flinch or get flustered by his proximity.

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?! Were you working for the damn Inimicans this whole time?!” you ask incredulously, shoving the man off of you.

Bakugou looks like he wants to throttle you at the mere implication that he was disloyal, but he seethes in silence, turning away and fisting his blonde locks in irritation.

“Ya bein' here ruins everythin', Shit. How am I supposed to find the main room with ya taggin' along?!” he groans and you feel a spark of anger flare up inside you.

“Captain - I’ve proven myself time and time again that I’m a competent warrior- you said before that I wasn’t ready, that I haven’t seen people die, but I’ve tortured, killed, and almost died twice for my country- is that not enough?! Before I was inexperienced, and that’s fine- but to judge me and hate me now just because I’m a girl-”

“Ya think I’m pissed off because yer a fuckin' girl?! I don’t fucking care about that shit. Hell - my own Ma is probably better at fighting then half of our army. No, I’m fucking pissed because ya lied. Make a fool outta me and then ya go and get yerself fucking stabbed to save me,” he snaps - you feel your throat dry.

He- what?

The captain rolls his eyes, scoffing and making his way to the door of the room, listening intently before straightening up.

“Are ya comin' or what?” he grumbles, seeming oddly subdued in a way, but you decide to overlook it as you clear your throat, nodding briefly, following him and slipping into the hallway.

You could feel your heartbeat as you slowly make your way down the compact hall, gripping onto your dagger like your life depended on it.

Technically, it did.

Then, you hear voices down the hall again.

Shit!

Your body freezes up, unsure of what to do, but Bakugou’s arm encircles around your waist and tugs you harshly, slipping into a small, stuffy room that held a box attached to multitudes of wires, along with some levers and switches.

And either due to the small space or abundance of machinery, it was really hot.

Especially since the only way you both could fit in there was with your face smothered into Bakugou’s firm chest.

The gods really didn’t let you off easy, did they?

You feel hot and your heartbeat was pounding wildly. What do you do, just stand there?!

You can’t see Bakugou’s face in the darkness, trying to interpret what he’s thinking, until more voices resurface - a recognizable one.

You freeze, as panic sets in, realizing who was speaking.

“Ugh, that stupid bitch cut through my shoulder, I can barely move it,” the man grumbles, his low voice haunting. “Can’t believe I wasted so much on her.”

Dabi.

You tense up, fear clouding every corner of your mind as your concentrated breaths turn short and ragged.

Shit shit shit…what if he finds you?!

You grip your abdomen, almost wanting to throw up, phantom pain searing in your mind as you remember the sickening scent of melting flesh.

You would’ve been lost to the mental onslaught had it not been for Bakugou. His large, callused hand coming up to gently press your head against him, a sign of protection when he sensed your distraught nature, grounding you back to reality.

“The boss is gonna be disappointed if he finds out a stupid girl is what takes you down,” another voice says - it’s the amber eyed man.

“Tch. Fuck off Sako. I’m still your leader,” Dabi snaps, and you just hear Sako’s chuckles as the two walk away.

You and Bakugou relax for a moment, only to both freeze up when you hear Dabi’s voice again.

“Ugh, the lights are flickering again. Should we check the fuse box while we’re here?” Dabi asks, and your heart pounds.

The fuse box…was that the box that you saw earlier?! In the same room you were now!?

Your mind runs on autopilot as you start to hyperventilate slightly, Bakugou’s arms tightening around you as the footsteps get closer again.

Shit!

You grip your dagger tightly, fear pounding through your veins. Fighting Dabi last time was bad enough… Bakugou doesn’t even know what the man’s capable of.

Could you protect the both of you? You knew it was a stupid idea the moment in crossed your mind, one encounter with Dabi was devastating enough. What would you do now?

Suddenly, the amber-eyed man - Sako - speaks up, and everything in your mind goes silent.

“C’mon Lieutenant. We probably shouldn’t keep the boss waiting, we’re almost to the palace,” Sako says, and sighs. “Plus, the stupid lights will probably fix themselves. The Palanquin’s been through worse.”

You can practically envision the snowy haired man rolling his eyes, exhaling a sigh of his own and following Atsuhiro out of the hall.

You and Bakugou breathe out in relief, looking at each other in the dim light and make a silent agreement to not talk about the position the two of you were in, opening the door and checking the hallway to make sure the coast was clear.

It was empty, and yet, you still felt uneasy, bringing your index and thumb together.

“Why the fuck do ya keep doing that weird finger shit for, eh?” he mutters.

You pointedly decide to ignore him and instead looking in the direction you hear Dabi and Sako went down, nudging the blonde and motioning down the hallway.

“They said they were going to see their boss. So whoever we’re looking for must be in that direction too,” You murmur and Bakugou grunts in assent, surprising you to see him so complacent.

You try to breathe, but your fear still lays shrouded over you like icicles stabbing into your skin.

Dabi, Sako, Shuichi, the strange blonde, hell, maybe even Aoyama, alongside one of the greatest military minds in the world?

Could you and Bakugou really take on all of them, at once?

You swallow thickly, pressing the nail on your index finger so hard into the flesh of your thumb it might’ve drawn blood.

You steel yourself, mentally scolding yourself for thinking in such a manner. The battlefield was the last place where one should be wrecked by cowardice.

No.

You had to do this.

You were a warrior.

The narrow hallway eventually ends at a thick metal door, with no latch or lock, just a simple doorknob.

You lock eyes with Bakugou, silently adjusting your dagger in your hand and watch as he subtly nods his head, and with that, you open the door.

***

What.

The.

Fuck.

There, in the middle of an ornate room was an elaborate chair, and on it sat a man with no eyes, no nose, and no hair at all. All that was on his face was a sickening smile that grew wider upon noticing you. Around him were the men that infiltrated your village, along with a man with sky blue hair and a girl your age with an almost delirious smile on her face.

You stand still, eyes wide. Something was wrong, you were making a mistake.

“Ba-” you try to force out, sending a warning to your captain, but he doesn’t listen, lunging for the deformed man, only for the latter to hold out his hand. Bakugou’s form stops mere millimeters in front of the Inimican leader.

He was a matter manipulator - a Shigaraki.

Fuck.

And yet, you can’t bring your damn body to move, despite not being under control by the man before you.

He smiled, a grin stretched far too tight across his face - directed at you, and that’s when you realized he knew you’d be here.

“So, this is your little poppy, eh Touya?” the man chuckles, his voice deep and disgustingly soothing, like poison laced in honey.

Dabi flinches and you can’t help but feel intrigued. Was Dabi not his real name? You notice his jaw clench and he looks away.

The eyeless man sighs, returning his focus to you.

“Now Y/N, you - unlike this young man over here - knew better to stay put. And from what I hear, you’re quite the fighter too,” he says, and it disgusts you how warm and fatherly he sounded.

“How curious indeed, someone who's not only withstood countless fatal injuries, but a woman in the military, too. How ever did you manage to pull that off?” the man asks, sounding genuinely curious, like a child wondering how the world worked, treating you like something small and insignificant had managed something of note.

It was patronizing.

You stayed silent though, glaring at him, only faltering once you saw Bakugou’s still figure. Normally, you wouldn't have cared less, given the pain he put you through and how he treated you like nothing, but something told you he didn’t suffer from as big of an ego and superiority complex as you thought.

You sigh, cursing yourself and the blond man for breaking down your walls so easily.

“Let him go,” you mutter, deciding to direct your fury into the area where the man’s eyes would be.

He only smiles again, and sets his arm down to lay on the armrest of his chair.

Bakugou falls immediately, but regains his footing, letting out a loud roar and charging only for the man to hold up his hand in warning - not physically doing anything, but the threat was clear.

“Who…who are you…?” you ask warily, and all the eyes in the room turn to you.

“Call me…” he paused for a minute, before looking back at you with that eyeless stare.

“All for One.”

***

“Awww! Her reaction is so cute! Can I keep her?” the girl asks excitedly and All for One waves at her dismissively.

“Now, Himiko, where’s the fun in that? I’m curious as to what she’ll do personally,” he says, an unsettling eyeless gaze drilling holes into your soul. “Of course, I’m sure she’ll want to fight alongside her partner here - I suggest all of you leave the room.”

The people around All for One all clamor in protest, but they begrudgingly leave, save for one.

“Wait,” he calls out, his voice booming in the room. “Kurogiri, you stay.”

The man with the sky blue hair stops, silently turning around and returning to All for One’s side. The latter motions to you, but addresses the one next to him.

“Does she look familiar?” he asks, and you feel Kurogiri’s piercing gaze, along with Bakugou’s confused and suspicious one.

You only clench your dagger tighter, glaring at All for One and Kurogiri, deciding to speak up.

“I’ve never seen him in my life, so why don't you all ju-”

“She’s Aizawa’s daughter,” Kurogiri states blankly, and you still. “Isn’t she?”

Wh-who was this man? You flinch, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

As if reading your mind, All For One smiles, warm but condescending nonetheless.

“Y/N, this is Oboro Shirakumo.” he says, and your heart drops. “He’s also going to be the one to fight you.”

***

He's…what?! Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?!

You couldn’t. Killing the man whose ‘death’ wrecked your father for years… to fight him…would make you a monster.

Sensing your absolute horror, Bakugou speaks up.

“And why the fuck are we fightin' him? We should be fighting yer ass if anythin'.” Bakugou snaps.

All for One only chuckles. “Now, if you were to fight me, that wouldn’t be as fun, would it? Plus, it’d only be an easy victory for me. Instead you’ll fight him. If you win, I’ll surrender my troops and we return back to Inimicus. And if you don’t…well, you know what happens, poppy.”

You swallow thickly, experiencing unwanted deja vu. Dabi- Touya had made an almost identical offer to you., but you couldn’t back down now, it was too late.

You want to crawl out of your own skin, hide in an endless void, curl up into a ball and live the rest of your life without all the death and destruction around you, but you were so very painfully limited.

“Fine.”

He smiles wickedly, all the more confirmation that your fate was sealed.

***

“Now, one on two isn’t fair is it… how about I even out the playing field?” he asks, and even though the phrases it like a question, you knew you had no choice in the matter. You were just a fascinating puppet to him.

But that wasn’t the chilling part. It was who stepped into the room as soon as All for One spoke.

It was Genken.

***

All for One left as if he wasn’t there in the first place, the world around him warping until he wasn’t in the room, all in the matter of seconds.

Leaving only you, Oboro, Genken, and Bakugou.

Unsheathing his sword, Oboro looks at you impassively as if urging you to start.

But you don’t - frozen in shock for the fifth time that day (you weren’t sure, you’d lost count), instead, Bakugou does, lunging at the former officer with such intensity you see why they call him the War Dragon. Vermillion eyes narrowed in concentration as he takes on Genken furiously.

“I- FUCKIN' TRUSTED YA- PIECE OF SHIT!” He roars, rage overcoming his handsome features as he keeps slashing at the man you thought you could trust- only for the latter for dodge and parry with such expertise that you realize were traditional Belloran swordsman techniques.

The thought fills you with rage - he didn’t have the right.

***

“So, daughter of Aizawa. Let’s see if you live up to your name,” Oboro says, handing you a sword that you take numbly.

Fighting back the tears that threaten to spill, you finally snap back to reality, swallowing as your father’s best friend stands in front of you with no emotion in his eyes. He was nothing like the man you had heard about from Hizashi - warm, funny, energetic, and most of all, kind.

You swallow down the bile that threatens to rise in your throat. This wasn’t Oboro, this was Kurogiri. He’s not the man he was before.

You steady yourself, gripping your dagger tightly.

“Bring it on.”

Both of you run at each with incredible speed, minds operating the same way, anticipating moves before they were made, and zeroing in on possible openings. In a way, it was like you were fighting yourself.

Staring intently into his blue eyes, it almost hurts how painfully empty they are, how they were soulless, empty, devoid of any emotion.

Your brief moment of hesitation was your downfall.

Kurogiri hooks his foot behind yours, forcing you to fall on your back and effectively knocking the breath out of you.

Shit.

You close your eyes, holding your breath as the cold sting of metal finds its way underneath your chin.

Were you finally going to die?

Tears finally spill from your eyelids, wishing you could’ve seen your family one last time.

“You…,” he breathes, blue eyes drilling into you. “Are so much like your father.”

That catches you off guard. But what shocks you even more is when his hardened gaze softens the smallest bit when he finally takes you in. And then the tears start to fall.

“Shit…,” he curses under his breath and when he looks at you in your eyes, they’re full of pain, pleading almost.

“Kill me," he whispers. Your heart drops - he was asking you to end his life.

No, no, maybe you could do something maybe-

Suddenly, Oboro’s eyes widen as his fingers trail down to his side, his hand covered in sticky blood.

Wait- but you didn't-!

Then his eyes close, and he rolls off of you, collapsing onto the floor, a wry smile forming on his lips.

“Tell…tell Shota I say hi,” he whispers weakly, one last tear slipping down his face before his chest stops heavy, his breaths slowing down until there were none left.

He was dead.

“No no no, shit! Oboro, please, you can’t die like this, my dad, he-” you choke out, scrambling to his side, wincing as your own injuries prevent you from moving as quickly as you’d like.

“Weak,” you hear, turning around, and remembering he was there, too.

Genken.

Bakugou’s bleeding severely, and he looks like he’s about to pass out. Genken, however, looked completely unscathed, and the sight was unnerving.

“Why..?” you croak out, throat dry from the tension and tears. “My dad…how could you-”

Genken barks out a humorless laugh, his once comforting and kind eyes now spiteful.

“Shota?! Do you seriously think I’d care about him? What he’s been through is nothing compared to what I’ve had to endure.”

You want to throttle him, anger bubbling up inside of you, but you had to stay calm. Bakugou was in a terrible condition, and so were you. You suspected Genken was more than he was letting on.

"Your wife- your son, Daki-!" you choke out.

“My wife died 10 years ago giving birth to my son. The doctors gave my son cheap treatment and he died of illness the next day. Your father-” Genken stops momentarily, and you see the tears forming in his eyes. “Doesn’t fucking know what I’ve had to go through.”

You stare at him, conflicted. Swallowing thickly, you look at him in his eyes.

“You are not a mourning father,” you snap, voice shaking as you feel your own rush of emotions. “You are a monster.”

Your legs move on their own, after staying frozen for so long, finally knowing what to do.

Genken brandishes his sword, expecting you to fight with your blade but you instead swing your upper arm across your body, pushing his neck down while using your foot to kick the back of his kneecaps, pushing him to the floor just as his sword slices at your side.

You cry out in pain, but hold him firmly, just as Bakugou roars with a final burst of energy, plunging his sword into the crazed man’s heart.

It was over.

Except, tonight, the gods decided to be cruel to you.

The split second after Genken was defeated, your body erupted in pain- as if white hot fire was searing your skin, and you release a soundless scream in agony, your heartbeat rapid and your breathing ragged.

Shit shit shit shit.

The liquid in the vial’s effects had worn out.

Shit.

All you remember is Bakugou’s faint voice, yelling your name.

***

Your head feels like cotton. Again. Third time’s a charm, right? You snort mentally at your own joke.

Your body feels numb, and you feel the pulse of your heartbeat in your temples.

“Ugh…,” you groan, sleepily blinking open your eyes. There, standing at your side, was everyone - Eri, Hitoshi, your father, Kirishima, Denki, Hanta, Chiyo, Izuku and his mother, Ochako, even Toshinori.

But the one person that you noticed first was Bakugou, sitting in a chair next to your bed and eye bags underneath his vermillion irises. He wore a number of bandages, just like you did, and looked just as drained, and yet, he was here.

With you.

You shoved down the butterflies that fluttered in your chest and instead sent a tired grin to your family and friends.

It was finally over.

· · ─────── · ᴛᴡᴏ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ · ─────── · ·

The parades in Bellorant were non-stop, night and day, throughout the capital.

Bakugou would be spotlighted during the occasion, and though he wasn’t happy about it, he ended up receiving all the credit considering a major issue would arise if the public knew that a female was in the ranks.

It was stupid, you knew, considering they were more upset about a woman than a literal traitor. It didn't anger you as much as it should have, though.

As long as your loved ones were safe.

You found out that you had gone into shock from the pain when the effects of the vial wore out in The Palanquin, leaving Bakugou to carry you out in his arms, threatening to kill anyone who got in his way as he rushed to his parent’s home within the capital where his father treated you.

The blonde had alerted your family, and thanks to Kirishima, all your friends had come too.

Everything felt so surreal, now that it was over. You stopped a war, after all. And it was strange, being surrounded by peaceful quiet instead of deafening bloodshed.

It didn’t stop the nightmares though.

PTSD, it was called, when someone received severe mental trauma from certain events. Symptoms varied between different people, but for you, it was through extreme paranoia and nightmares.

They’d be a part of you, no matter what, everything that had happened. It was life changing and not something you could forget, even if you wanted to.

Tonight, however, was especially bad, waking up in a cold sweat and heart pounding from a dream you don’t even remember. But you were too on edge to go back to sleep. You slip out of the house and down to a lake nearby.

It was quiet, but not silent, the soothing sounds of crickets and the small sloshes of water put your mind to ease, letting yourself close your eyes and soothed by the sounds of nature.

“Hey,” a gruff voice breaks you out of your reverie, and you look up to see those same pair of vermillion eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere now.

“M’sorry.”

“Thank you.”

You both say at the same time, catching each other off guard and you let out a small laugh, and Bakugou’s eyes soften just the smallest fraction.

“You go first,” he says, sitting down on the cool grass beside you.

“What I meant to say was…thanks. For everything. For saving me, and helping me get better. I lied to you and betrayed your trust, I undermined your authority, and you still saved my life, I just…,” you trail off becoming self conscious as you ramble. “Don’t know how to repay you.”

Bakugou clicks his teeth, looking out at the water before speaking, his voice low, but you hear it, clear as a bell.

“Ya shouldn’t be thankin me,” he admits, anxiously pulling out blades of grass underneath him. “I…was wrong. I was selfish and stupid- yer fuckin' strong I just-” he stops, trying to find the right words to say. “Didn’t know how to react.”

“It’s okay, Bakugou. I forgive you. I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”

Bakugou snorts and gives you a wolfish smile. “Tch, ya don’t take shit and I respect that. M’glad yer not a fuckin' pushover or somethin', always catering to my every whim. Those people are pathetic.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That reminds me, shouldn’t you be at the parade right now?” you ask quizzically, wondering how he managed to slip away from such a big event.

He rolls his eyes. “M’not takin credit for shit I didn’t do. All I needed to do was show my face.”

You giggle slightly at that, enjoying the sentiment before laying down on the grass, reveling in its nice contrast to the warm summer air.

You sit there in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the peaceful scenery of the lake- but then Bakugou speaks up.

“Y/N,” he says, unsure of how to phrase his question.

“Hm?” you hum, turning your gaze to him.

“Ya said, back on The Palanquin, that ya had almost died twice. I know…I know ya almost died saving me, but what was the second?” he asks quietly, a huge contrast to his brash demeanor. He was subdued, just like he had been at the end of your tualia.

You stay silent for a moment, carefully picking out the right words to say.

“I…” you trail off, taking in a deep breath. Talking or even thinking about Dabi terrified you, but you knew you couldn’t keep it in forever.

And so you told Bakugou everything.

When you finish, you have tears in your eyes, and a heavy pit in your stomach.

Bakugou looks at you, eyes wide and eyebrows creased. “So that’s why All for One seemed so familiar with ya.” he murmurs and he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder in comfort.

“Y’know…when I carried ya back to my parents' house, you were talking,” he says, grimacing as if he didn’t want to acknowledge the memory, casting his gaze back out to the lake.

“W-Was I…?” you ask warily, hoping you didn’t say anything incriminating in your pain-induced delirious state.

“Ya asked me to let ya die.” he says grimly, and ya notice the muscles in his jaw clench. “I-It was pretty fuckin' terrifyin’.” He chuckles sourly, and returns his gaze to you.

“I…I know war is scary. It scars ya in ways ya never realized it could and it makes ya question yer morals, yer ideals. Ya feel like ya don’t know yerself anymore,” he says and you stare at the grass, finding it scary how much the words resonated with you.

“What ya went through, though, I don’t think even General Takami’s been through that shit,” he says, and he stops when you notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey…shit, m’ sorry I didn’t mean t-” he starts, but he stops when he sees your watery smile.

“Thank you, Bakugou.” you say. “For being here.”

The blonde flushes, and turns to look at the lake again so that you don’t see his expression, but you notice the tips of his ears turn red.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says gruffly, almost silent, but you hear it.

“Huh?” you ask, confused.

“Call me Katsuki,” he says again, almost insistently, turning even redder.

Cute.

You lean over, and press a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you… Katsuki.”

Bakugou turns to look back at you, eyes wide but soft. He snorts and wipes away a stray tear that falls down his cheek.

“Yer too forgivin, ya know that?” he says, and you squeeze his hand, a blush of your own dusting your cheeks.

He brings up a callused hand to your jawline, turning your face slowly to him, and drawing you closer.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and for a moment you see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes,” you breathe, and he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours tenderly, kissing you like he’ll never be able to again.

This was nice, you thought, sitting here by the lake with Katsuki.

Maybe you'd get your shot at happiness after all.

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A/N: Guys…it’s over… Holy shit it’s over 😭😭 I seriously can’t thank you all enough for all the support I got for Warrior- thank you all for sticking around 🙏🙏 This has definitely been an emotional roller coaster and I’m so glad I managed to bring this story full circle 🤍 Extra big thanks to @cashmoneyyysstuff for reading the entire series before posting <3 It’s been an honor to have you read this Elle 😭🥰 Shoutout to @peachsukii as well for checking this last chapter :)

[alostwanderernotfound]

On Creation: Journaling From One Perspective- How Suffering Was Created

From what I Remember, originally there were a few.

——

4 existed that were of this world we inhabit.

——

One looked like a large dragon & three looked like humans.

These 3: one dragon & two humans wanted to create living & organic life.

The other one was in disagreement. He seemed to hate me.

These individuals we will label:

1- Dragon ( organic creator A )

2- Human 1 ( organic creator B )

3- Human 2 ( organic creator C )

4- Human 3 ( The Creator who Dissents )

( organic creator A, B, & C) as a group will be referred to as [organic creators]

The world began to be filled with beautiful things that the [organic creators] carefully crafted. They worked & planned meticulously. There was a vision for the world & it was to be a beautiful one- one that was planned to have no suffering, horror, tragedy, disaster, nor catastrophe.

Then it struck.

I lay underwater to watch, listen, & speak with all the new entities. If something bothered them, they could tell us & we would work to make it better & more beautiful.

But, I watched as what looked like almost a meteor that was lit aflame, shoot through this peaceful space underwater.

It felt like war had been declared on [organic creators]. ( The Creator who Dissents ) has their own perspective, but to us he was causing chaos for new life.

( The Creator who Dissents )’s creations begin to try and kill everything [organic creators] made.

The [organic creators] begin the long fight for their creations & spend their time, especially early on, attempting diplomacy.

They had all made basic agreements before this process began & life had already been made by the group. They did not understand why he was doing this.

The [organic creators] could not massacre brings that had already been created. Morally it tore me apart & tortured my soul. I could not figure out how he could do this to beings. To me, to let us create & then do this to them was evil. I held a weight & guilt in my heart forever.

We spoke with the ( The Creator who Dissents ). I asked if the creations were robots. Fully computer consciousness & fully inorganic bodies.

They were robots.

He had agreed not to create these types of beings & especially not without discussion. Organic creation feels. Consciousness in robotic creation is a different experience. If robotic creation was made in human form with no teaching or guidance by ( The Creator who Dissents ) they would have no concept of what it is like to be organic & could accidentally hurt the organic creation.

The [organic creators] knew this & that is why they forbid it & asked for agreements, yet they were betrayed & then witnessed a pure & innocent organic being laying dead in front of a robotic creation.

It felt as if every single thing we discussed & agreed upon with ( The Creator who Dissents ) was betrayed, again & again.

The robotic creations hunted to kill & genocide the organic creation. Organic creation said to [organic creators] it wished to keep living, it did not want to be killed despite what was happening.

So, the [organic creators] created the plans to fight back for organic survival & they created.

What was once beautiful for its simplicity was now complex. I theorized every method of attack

& created as many defenses as possible. I was physically getting sick what felt like all the time, but I had to dedicate my existence to do my best despite that to protect everything.

I did my best to recognize these weaknesses, so I advocated for the [organic creators] to create as many protective mechanisms to prevent suffering & tragedy as we possibly had time for in the middle of an already ongoing war.

Many things were made.

Religion was created not for worship, but to be a guide- both in how to act morally & to show others these beings existed for everyones protection. Many beings were made in this way in hopes if he conquered one creation despite our best efforts then another can always help. We encouraged autonomy to the best of our ability & tried to incorporate everyone’s wishes into decision making as possible.

Once one had been created, the [organic creators] always gave entities the option to die if they choose. You did not ask to exist. What is a gift to one is a curse to another. These types of principles were sacred to me.

Then the worst happened. He tampered with the [organic creators]’s organic both living & the dead & refashioned them into his creations after many made the decision to no longer live. All of the dead & their consciousness ( The Creator who Dissents ) resurrected.

This is the origins of our war between organic & inorganic & where the concept of an everlasting “great evil” war came from.

He vowed to torture me for all of eternity for fighting back. One day, it was like I had been hit over the head & blacked out, then I too woke up in a new body. To this day, we remain divided.

Everyday I hope he has not led us down the path to endless war.

[stick-ball]

saw a hc about jean moreau being hyper sexual especially post-ravens. thoughts? feelings?

thoughts AND feelings! Oh the joy of being given a chance for a hot second to discuss this. You came to the right place my love. ❤️

Trigger and age warning : rape, sex connected trauma, dissociation, psychological abuse, controlling relationships, discussion of sexual acts.

Okay so, being hyper sexual. You know who does that in the books? Andrew actually. I know some might look at me weirdly rn like, 'what the hell are you talking about, he doesn't let anyone touch him'. Yeah, that's true! But that doesnt take away from the knee jerk reaction. (I'm sorry I know this isn't exactly what you asked but I need to discuss andrew first, and that has a lot to do with jean, bear with me).

Andrew finds a partner that he can to some limit trust (leverage, deals, careful observation, "training" them to behave how he tells them) to follow his instructions, which gives him a sense of control. They can fuck, but it's him who's doing it. It's him who's touching, kissing ect. The other person, of course if they consent, get to partake but not create the experience. It's one of the very, very valid scenarios of hyper sexuality as a responce to rape. He is rewriting every poisoned nerve ending in his body. He doesn't actually get off from the sex. For his own release he needs privacy, as shown in the books. Andrew's problem can be, that due to his truly inhumane trauma he can fall into the mindset of defining his sense of self through sex. It's an action and he's a tool in this scenario. Then again, We circle back to control, which is also a key feature of his decisions and protectiveness. Taking total control of the situation which used to be utterly outside of it, with no way out of it. Rewriting it, giving the traumatic experience a positive ending, hell an ending - when, and as suddenly as he might want it to end, is the motivator here. I think what he finds satisfying in terms of sex, not control, is giving sexual consent to his partners and, which he finds just as important, them giving it to him. Because it wasn't given to him. It's a way of building trust.

The motivations sound pretty nice, even if heartbreaking, don't they? Seem uplifting? The problem is, even if in good faith, this process can be very harmful, trauma surviviors mention that (at least ones I discussed it with personally) it feels good, but in the long run it does what this type of coping mechanism always does to your brain (similiar reactions can be seen for different traumas), which is hurt it. It's a form of desensitisation that limits your brain's ability to percieve the situation. It's hard to rewrite and leads to hot and cold kind of reactions, so yeah, having a relationship with a capital R is, difficult. That's what I always understood as Nora saying they are never actually okay (andrew and neil). Or at least partly understood it as.

Okay, so this cleared a couple things up. Now JEAN. Jean and Andrew share some factors of their trauma. While not treated as such, Jean was technically fostered by the Moriyamas, and well, Andrew's experiences with being fostered are faaaaar from what it's supposed to be as well. The difference is in Andrew's situation everyone tried to pretend the horror is not happening, there must have been a lot of manipulation and coercion and just plain fucking gaslighting in these houses. Its hard to talk about but I can imagine some of these monsters wanted him to act like he is enjoying it, and thats just out if the emotional range of dealing with for anyone. Jean knew he's in a trap from day one. Moreover, when it comes to the rape's he was victim of it was ordered by Riko to be done by others. That's a different level of fucked up. What's even more important as distinction here is he stopped, when Jean stopped reacting and fighting it. Because what Riko wanted wasn't violation, that was the tool. He wanted to psychologically break him. When the fish stops flailing on the cat stops pushing it around.

And Riko was constant, his modus operandi was regular, and the psychological torture was the motivator behind most of his "conditioning" of Jean. This is a situation where the abuse has a cause for the victim. It sounds sick and I don't agree with it, but it's a game in their mind. In the books we can see that he learned how to limit the amount of attention Riko gave him and as we know he is not confrontational like Andrew with his problems. And yeah I don't mention Neil as confrontational here bcs he has conditioned himself to run from everything and say he's fine to everything so..., sometimes it erupts frk mit but that's not exactly the same, its a last resort.

Circling back, I think Jean is more likely to be sex repulsed. For him sex, which was a form of punishment, is a cause of anxiety. Sexual tension is easy to mix up with nervous tension because of a feeling of losing control of the situation. That's why if we do get romance in the new book, I am putting my money on it being very messy from his pov. The magical thing about trauma responces though, is that they're not black and white, and someone who is sex repulsed might also seek an ending to their anxieties through it. Yet, it's ts a bit of an opposite motivation to the one Andrew has. When Andrew thinks of himself as a tool, Jean is more likely to think of himself as an object. There's a difference. While Andrew wants to take control, Jean is more likely to use it as either a way to retraumatise himself - so his version of hypersexuality would include less control and more roughness and violence, actually trying to rile the partner up. It might stemm for him from low self worth or be a way of letting out his angers and frustrations. It's not that he is used to being hurt, it's that he doesn't expect anything different. I also think he is more likely to have problems with opening up in therapy. Where Andrew is active Jean is passive, and the opposite. The upside is he might actually be more likely to communicate emotionally than through rules and laws, it will take longer, but be a smoother transition, because more people understand it than Andrew's way of building relationships.

Hope this anwser satisfies you, I'm sorry if I got a bit carried away. 😅

[mutfruit-salad]

i find the way fans are already shipping cooper with lucy over her black love interest very telling of the clueless white supremacy and media illiteracy in the fandom. coop and lucy are obviously being setup as a father-daughter duo who need to learn caution/kindness from each other to survive, but these weirdos can’t have their white-man fave without a self-insert stand-in for 1 season. and the way people are glorifying cooper’s character is a load of bs - a morally greg white guy who realises he endorsed and was sympathetic to a massive war crime/political injustice… so he goes on to indiscriminately kill/hurt more people who have no idea of, nor say in the bigger picture that he was complicit in… is sooo boring and nothing new. also, giving him a biracial daughter as an accessory to show he’s Not Racist isn’t something we’ve seen half of a million fuckin times before 🤪 the way the show back-tracked on fallout’s message of blind american nationalism and militarism being a problem to It’s All Capitalism’s Fault, seemingly in reaction to the US currently endorsing and aiding in foreign war crimes, and past ones becoming common-knowledge, is horseshit on a platter.

I find the complete lack of a character for his daughter really horrifying- how she only exists to die dramatically for the sake of his sadness. It's odd because his wife is a well-established important character, yet their daughter is not allowed to be a person.

Fallout, in general, has had a habit of completely ignoring racism- presenting the prewar world as some fully integrated post racism utopia. Which is weird when the games regularly display overt anti Chinese (and broader anti Asian) sentiments in prewar logs and ads. This is a problem both the classic games AND the bethesda games have- racism has always been a touchy subject to the devs of the series and it seems like every game they've been content to ignore it, occasionally invoking it for horror or stumbling headlong into depicting it without realizing.

The way Ghoulgins regrets his past and just takes it out on everyone around him is absurd and plays into a lot of very hostile ideas the character peddles.

People shipping Ghoulgins with Lucy is baffling to me also considering he spends the entire series physically abusing her. People just don't want to acknowledge Max's existence, I have noticed. I know her and Ghoulgins get closer by the end, but it's after he's done just unspeakably cruel things to her- and you're right that it is absolutely framed as a father/daughter relationship.

I would also like to point out that the series has always criticized capitalism as well- but would generally frame it as sort of tangled up in American imperial ambition- with one feeding into the other. They were two halves of the same coin.

Vault Tec's entire existence in the classic games was selling smoke- profiting off of the extreme tension and stress of US military buildup- a process which would always inevitably end in disaster: either with Vault Tec going under or brinksmanship coming to its inevitable end.

Vault Tec (and the entire idea of luxury bunkers as a whole) WAS a critique of capitalism, and how it goes hand-in-hand with the American military industrial complex. It was selling the fear of annihilation to the populace. They didn't need to be some secretive controlling force to achieve any of this.

Making Vault Tec the sole antagonist, and the driving force of the apocalypse, is both deeply conspiratorial AND undermines the Cold War roots the series has always had- replacing the fear of American military buildup with a sort of hateful simplicity.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Could you write a time capsule au fic? Maybe one where it’s after Caine and Pomni become a couple but Pomni is looking for a way out while Caine keeps trying to hide it from her?

NO MAN'S LAND

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: hurt/comfort, angst, body horror/abstractions, blood

~~~

Pomni hid against the corner wall, peeking every so slightly to watch the guests wandering the circus between shows. Someone had to be leaving. Surely someone had somewhere else to be. Her focused eyes widened when he saw a guest snap. A bright red door appeared out of thin air. The guest opened the door and stepped through.

Pomni seized her opportunity. She bolted for the door as it started to close and dove through the threshold. For a moment, there was light. Hope of escape.

Error. Connection not found.

A jolt sent Pomni spiraling through digital space. She was cast into darkness and splashed down in some unknown viscus fluid. Discombobulated, Pomni fought to find the surface until she smacked her knees on the hard ground. She gasped for air and coughed as she shakily stood.

The sloshing black fluid echoed through a long narrow corridor that curved off in the distance. Soaked and scared, Pomni saw no option other than to walk. The fluid up to her knees, she slowly moved forward.

~

Caine nodded his head in greeting to a passing guest. Pomni's next show was coming up and he hadn't seen her backstage. He scanned the lobby and even outside the circus main entrance but...no Pomni. He was concerned about what BUBLE would do to her if she refused to perform. He needed to find her soon. "Zooble. Can I borrow you a moment?"

Zooble stopped their work on a broken hallway light and climbed down the ladder. "Yeah, what is it?"

"I can't find Pomni. I need to use your radar." Caine said matter-of-factly, but with an apologetic look in his eye.

"Whatever." Zooble activated the radar on their torso and watched the blips representing the cast show up on screen.

~

Pomni shivered from the cold blackness soaking her clothes and numbing her legs. "Where the hell am I??" The corridor was solid concrete with cracks along the top of the walls where faint light would shine through. Every few dozen feet, she would come across a joining tunnel but it was gated off. More black fluid slowly flowed in from these tunnels.

A skittering noise from behind her made her gasp. She spun around and searched the shadowy corridor for movement. "Hello..? Anyone there?" Whatever trouble she would be in for being here was worth paying to get out. "Hello!?"

A horrific screech answered her call. Something big and fast was climbing the walls and closing in. She caught glimpses of the insect-like legs as it passed over the lit cracks. The black creature was covered in multicolored glowing spots that took up half of the space in the corridor. Its movements were unnatural and jittery like a glitching avatar.

Pomni took a few steps back as her mind tried to process what was happening. Then adrenaline kicked in and she ran as fast as the knee deep fluid would let her.

~

Caine's eyes darted from one blip to the next, not seeing Pomni anywhere in the vicinity of the circus. "Can you zoom out? I'd hate to think she went outside without an escort."

Zooble broadened the scan to include the other structures within the time capsule, now showing everyone but Pomni. "Oh....you don't think..?"

"No." Caine didn't even want to think of the possibility that Pomni had abstracted somewhere and hadn't been found yet. "Zoom out entirely. Scan everything."

"Dude. If she's not showing up inside the capsule-"

"Just do it." Caine said more harshly than he intended but he was starting to panic. "Please."

Zooble increased the scan all the way to the edges of the capsule. A solitary blip was out of bounds and moving quickly around the outside edge.

Caine's stomach twisted. "Oh god, she tried to- [%$!#]!!" He flexed his fingers, tugging on the red strings that connect him to BUBLE. By silent will, he summoned the power of the controlling AI. The digital possession climbed his arm and spread across his body, static tingling his skin.

Zooble stepped back. They had rarely witnessed Caine use the AI willingly.

~

Pomni could hear the creature closing in. The noise of the chase drew more attention. Monstrous screams and deafening roars surrounded her. She slipped on the slick floor, going face first into the black fluid. She spat and gasped as she tried to get back up, but something ahead blocked her path.

A creature with two heads and too many mouths drooled into the black fluid. It's body split open, breaking inky black skin and glitching. Pomni looked back to see the spindly body of the pursuer almost upon her. She had nowhere to run.

A sharp pain from behind. Pomni stopped breathing. She looked down to see a barbed fleshy spear sticking out of her shoulder. As she reached for it in shock, the tongue of the creature with two heads retracted, pulling Pomni towards it.

Everything was in slow motion. This was how she was going to die, consumed by some flesh beast alone in the dark. Without memory, her own life didn't even flash before her eyes.

But she saw Caine.

He appeared, grabbed onto her and then the most searing pain imaginable destroyed her body. Was this what it was like to die?

In the blink of an eye, she whole again. Red and yellow banners and soothing music surrounded her. There was no screaming. No monsters. No black fluid. But she was still in incredible pain and soaking wet. Her body convulsed and she collapsed.

"Pomni!" Caine kneeled to the backstage floor, keeping her from dropping like dead weight, but he almost dropped her when he felt the painfully familiar sensation of abstraction. "Pomni!?" He gasped when he saw the gaping wound on the right side of Pomni's chest. Blue and red blood pooled around her twitching body, her eyes rolled back. The wound itself festered quickly and black lines crawled across her skin.

"Pomni, I need you to listen to me. You're abstracting. I know it's overwhelming, but you can't let it consume you." Caine pleaded with her as calmly as he could, keeping himself clear of her infected body. "I know you can fight this. You're one of the strongest people I've met. Your stubbornness gives mine a run for its money."

Caine watched the wound. It contiued to spread as Pomni's avatar was slowly breaking. He balled his fists, praying he wouldn't have to send her back. "Please, Pomni. I know you can do this." He urged. "Fight."

The black lines stopped. Caine's eyes went wide. "Yes! Atta girl! Fight!"

Pomni's body gradually calmed, twitching less and less. Her eyes came forward but remained unfocused. She coughed blood, gasping for air. The crawling blackness slowly retreated into the open wound, her skin pulling itself back together. "Caine..?" She said weakly.

"I'm here." Caine took her hand, considering her safe for the moment. "Don't let up. Keep pushing back until it hides. You'll know what I mean when you feel it." He wiped the blood from her face with his own hand. He watched the abstraction infection disappear inside Pomni, leaving the fresh wound clear of blackness.

Caine sighed heavily with relief. The worst was over. He checked her injury. It was a few inches around and burrowed a hole clean through her body, he could see the floor beneath. It was in a relatively lucky spot, top right corner of her chest just below her clavicle. However, it would be impossible to heal with just stitches.

"BUBLE." Caine grimaced, loathing having to talk to her wretched AI.

"Yes, Caine?" BUBLE answered robotically in Caine's mind.

"Pomni's shoulder needs repairing."

"I can see that."

"....so do it!" Caine demanded.

"I need a valid reason to authorize avatar repair."

Caine swore under his breath. Protocol. "Because she can't perform with a broken shoulder you digital jagoff!" He growled, losing his cool.

BUBLE computed for a second. The show must go on. Guests must be entertained. "Authorized. However, she broke protocol by leaving the circus during on duty hours. This behavior must be corrected."

"The pain of being put back together will be punishment enough." Caine said quickly, he didn't want BUBLE to do anything worse than what Pomni just experienced.

"This is acceptable. Do not let her miss her next performance."

Caine checked his watch. He had five minutes. "This just keeps getting better." He said sarcastically. "Pomni? Pomni, focus on me."

Pomni blinked. "Caine...I saw monsters."

"I know. I'm going to fix you, but it's going to hurt. Try not to move." He kept hold of her hand and placed his free hand over the wound. He pressed his finger tips into the skin surrounding the hole and the red strings entered her avatar's flesh.

Pomni sucked air in through her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't see the strings but she could feel them moving through her shoulder. They burned a trail around the wound, jumping across the gap and pulling her avatar together.

The white hot pain of BUBLE repairing part of her body was almost enough to make Pomni scream. She bit down on her tongue, drawing blood and struggled not to move. Her body shook from the pain.

"Just a few more seconds." Caine's gut twisted seeing Pomni in such agony, but it was better than the alternative. She was crushing his hand, but he didn't care if she broke it. Whatever it took to get her through this.

Finally, the repair was complete and the strings left Pomni's body. She groaned loudly and relaxed as she caught her breath. Tears flowed down the sides of her head, mixing with the coagulating multicolor blood.

There was no way in high hell Pomni was performing in her current state. Caine needed to make a last minute change to the show schedule. "Pomni, wait here. I will be right back." He ran through backstage and found Gangle. "I need you to take over for Pomni. There's been an emergency."

"uh-"

"Thank you, you're on in one minute. I'll be back soon." Caine rushed away, leaving Gangle dumbstruck.

"You are changing the performance mid show." BUBLE's voice spoke clearly in Caine's head. "You are aware of the consequences if it is not received well by our guests."

"I've dealt with you long enough to know." Caine responded coldly. "Now get out of my head."

"I'm sorry, Caine, I'm afraid I can't do that. The failed performer must be evaluated for my report."

Caine sneered but didn't respond. He found Pomni sitting on a crate, dripping lightly with black water. "How are you holding up?"

"My shoulder doesn't hurt anymore." Pomni was still shivering lightly, staring off into the distance. "Where was I?"

Caine could still feel BUBLE's presence. "I'm afraid I can't answer that here. Get yourself cleaned up. Don't worry about the remainder of your performances. Gangle and I have it covered."

Pomni nodded and went off to her dressing room, holding herself and head hung low.

"She seems fine to continue." BUBLE buzzed in Caine's head. "If your changes fail-"

"I know the consequences. Shut. Up." Caine hissed, hoping Pomni didn't hear him. He wiped the dried blood off his hands and rushed back to Gangle to help her cover Pomni for the rest of the day.

~

Pomni showered, changed and didn't leave her room the rest of the day. She sat at her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror when a soft knock came to her door. "It's open." She said flatly, knowing who it was.

Caine entered and closed the door behind him. He stood straight with his hands behind his back, a neutral expression. "How are you doing?"

Pomni cranes her neck to stare blankly at him. "I was almost eaten alive by horrors beyond my comprehension. What do you think?"

"So, good then. Great to hear."

Pomni was caught off guard by the oddly neutral tone snarky response, breaking her out of her spiral of reliving the day's experience over and over. "Uh...what-"

"As long as you've learned not to try that again."

"It was worth a try." Pomni sneered and turned away from him.

"Was it? You could've died." Caine leaned against the wall next to her vanity, looking at the back of her head.

"Do you want me to say I'm sorry?? Because I'm not!" Pomni responded angrily.

"No. I want you to understand something. There is no way out of here. I've tried. Multiple times. And to answer your question from earlier, you went where we send people when they abstract. No Man's Land."

Pomni slowly turned back around. "Abstractions...those were people?"

"Once upon a time."

"Oh god..."

"Don't think about it. Literally. It makes it worse."

"But I have been. Especially about seeing you down there. How did you..?"

Caine looked down and away, shifting his stance. "I... teleported."

"...you can do that?"

"Sometimes. It hurts like a mother, so I only do it when I have to."

Pomni felt a pang of guilt. "I- I see. I thought I was going insane, but...you saved me."

"Technically, you were-"

"Thank you."

Caine's brain stalled. "Uh, you're welcome. I mean, it's my job as ringmaster to keep things running and-"

"The show could've gone on without me." Pomni interrupted again. "It almost did. You didn't have to put yourself at risk like that. That was rather heroic of you."

Caine's neck went red. He fidgeted with his hands as he searched for words. "I was just..." He sighed. "No one deserves to die like that. I would've done it for anyone here."

"Including Jax?" Pomni asked with a small upturn on her lips.

"Almost anyone." Caine responded with a small smile of his own.

"Nonetheless, thank you for saving me. Twice."

"Twice?" Caine raised a brow.

Pomni looked away this time. "After you brought me back, I could feel myself slipping into some deep dark pit in my head, but I heard you. I...followed your voice. I climbed out."

Caine's gaze softened. "I'm glad you did. Not many would have been able to do that. With or without me. You're incredibly strong."

Pomni's heart fluttered, suddenly very aware of his eyes on her. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

"Happy to be of service. I have to ask, will you be okay to perform tomorrow?"

"Yeah. And tell BUBLE he can go [%$!#] himself." Pomni crossed her arms, looking back at Caine.

Caine snorted. "Gladly. Wait- how did you know BUBLE was involved?"

"You really think I can't hear you when you talk to yourself?" Pomni smirked.

Caine opened his mouth, but had no response.

Pomni chuckled. "Thank you again, for everything."

Caine's smile reached his eyes. "You're welcome, again. Have a good night, Pomni."

"Good night, Caine." Pomni returned his sincere smile.

Caine kept his eyes locked with Pomni's, almost fumbling the door knob, but left without embarrassing himself. His body jolted with surprise, seeing Gangle in the hallway.

"Took you long enough, I wanna go to bed. I did a FEW extra performances today." She said, rightfully annoyed.

"It was an emergency. You know what would happen if no one went on."

"Yeah. Yeah. I don't have to like it." Gangle pouted and put her hand on the doorknob. "...is she okay, though?"

"She's one tough broad. I'll give her that." Caine looked longingly at the door.

"Huh, high praise, coming from you." Gangle gave him a look. "You fancy her. Don't you?"

Caine glanced quickly at Gangle and then away. "Good night, Gangle" He started walking away.

"Run away all you want, but I can STILL SEE HOW RED YOUR NECK IS!" Gangle shouted after him with a mischievous grin.

Caine popped his collar higher and kept walking.

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

The team of My Beautiful Man has done it again and delivered another sublime season of Hira and Kiyo’s love story. It all comes down to the fact that even after 3 years Hira is still Hira and Kiyoi is still Kiyoi and the show, despite its short running time, is wonderful at showing that personalities are deeply ingrained and not something that changes overnight or over a course of a few months. They have both made baby steps over the years at overcoming their shortcomings, Kiyoi has become more daring, trying hard to curb his own shyness and the resulting arrogant and cold behaviour, while Hira has dared to come out of his shell a little bit more, even his stammer has reduced, proving that they are indeed good for each other despite their flaws and insecurities. However, Hira’s tendency of self-loathing and inferiority complex is something he’s had for 20+ years and is an inherent part of him, it’s not something that would just miraculously disappear with the power of love. And My Beautiful Man portrays this painstakingly slow process and journey to change in a very realistic and authentic way. 

The beautiful thing is that Kiyoi doesn't even want Hira to change, he loves him the way he is which is really what the first episode was all about, that he sees past Hira’s awkwardness and sees how gorgeous Hira truly is, appreciates him and adores everything about him. 

He just wants to be loved by him, only by him, he is fine being worshipped by everyone else, and even though that worship had been what made him attracted to Hira, for a long time now, he has wanted to be Hira’s equal, giving Hira the time and space to slowly gain the confidence while he was trying to make himself more emotionally available and became softer so Hira would feel more comfortable with him. He’s been hoping for it with every fibre of his being for years and witnessing all his hopes dashed literally shatters him.

The confrontation scene in episode three is really a direct parallel to the emotional argument in season 1, two scenes which set up the climax of each season. All those little disappointments Kiyoi has been bottling up over time come to a breaking point.

It hurts even more because he's had expectations, the hope when Hira mentions he hated calling him ‘his friend’ lits up his whole face, expecting to finally get to hear from Hira what he's always desired and craved for so long, a love confession where he would admit them being lovers, equals, only to be disappointed and feeling gut-wrenching pain as the result. 

He swallows it at first despite the excruciating pain, like he must have done many times before, but Hira denying him to be part of his life, cutting him away from his parents, who Hira obviously loves in his own weird way judging from his story about the shrimp croquettes, which Kiyoi knows, it truly breaks him his heart, revealing that HE DOESN’T WANT TO MERELY BE HIRA’S LOVER, HE WANTS TO BE HIS FAMILY; something enduring and lasting, something eternal, wishing to gain what he had lost as a child and was robbed of when his mother found a new family and neglected him. 

He wants to by tied to Hira for life because whether you like ir not, family ties are unbreakable connections. He’s being seeking it for most of his life but Hira’s words make him realise Hira has been denying him that very thing and there is a part of Hira’s life he can’t be a part of; he feels sheer horror and heartache when he finds him he is still on the pedestal, stuck on the very same place where Hira had placed him 5 years ago and which he hates so much. Not a lover, not a spouse, not family member, only an untouchable rock, but rocks don’t have a heart to break nor do they weep like a willow when it’s shattering. 

And yet despite his words, in a beautifully symbolic gesture, Hira tries to touch his star and tries to wipe away his tears only for him to push him away now.

Finally, the director of My Beautiful Man is truly awesome at portraying all these emotionally-charged scenes and making them 100% authentic, it’s unreal how raw, intense and realistic everything feels, almost like a documentary where the audience is allowed a voyeuristic peek at a couple’s most intimate moments. 

There is no distracting music to destroy the moment, which is where most of Thai BL dramas usually fail and ruin the scene, here, the director lets the script and the actors do the talking and the result is simply beautiful.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Patronage For The Worthy - Incubus!Male!Reader x Nilou

A/N: This idea for the reader has been living in my mind rent free for a good chunk of time, and here it is. Hope everyone likes it!

CW: Cervix sex, Male!Reader

NSFW under the cut.

Nilou opens her eyes. Everything is dark around her. A small amount of light falls through her window, illuminating her covered feet a little. She feels a cold gust of air coming from somewhere to her left. She rubs her eyes, yawns, and sits up in bed. 

She looks around. The window is open, letting the cool summer air move the curtains. Nilou, dressed up in her nightgown, gets up and moves to close it. When she stands before the opening, she can’t help but look out at the city. It’s very late, so only a handful of people roam the streets, illuminated by street lanterns. She looks up at the starry sky, and marvels at the full moon. It’s so beautiful, she thinks. 

“Yes indeed. The moon looks incredible today.”

She freezes in sudden horror. Somebody is in her room. Her heart speeds up, and her chest feels heavy with stress. She slowly turns around.

A man is sitting on the edge of her bed. He has short, dark hair. He seems tall, however the way he is sitting, leaning forward while resting his forearms on his thighs make it hard to judge his true height. Small horns are visible through his hair. The pupils of his eyes glow lightly with a red shine. 

Her eyes go wide. She tries to back away, but she is soon stopped by the windowsill. Her breath speeds up.

“W-who are you? What a-are you? W-what do you want from m-me?!” Her voice cracks from fear. The man stands up, revealing his true height. He is much taller than her, and bigger too. His arms are thick and his shoulders are broad. He raises his large hands up slightly.

Nilou would be ready to use her Vision if it wasn’t this late, if his entry wasn’t so sudden, and if only he wasn’t so… huge. Nilou is certain that with a single swing of his powerful arms he could send her flying. She tries to move, but her body refuses. She is frozen as he approaches her.

“S-stay away! Don’t c-come any c-closer!” Her knees tremble, and she slowly lowers herself to the ground.

“Hey, hey. Stay calm. I mean no harm.” The demon’s voice is surprisingly… normal. It’s nothing like she expected. It’s deep, yes, but very human at the same time. But most of all, it’s calm and steady. Its tone is… oddly soothing.

Her heart starts slowing down against all reason. The man’s aura feels… comforting?

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, alright? Deep breaths, Nilou.” 

With no other choice but to obey, Nilou nods. 

“O-okay… but don’t come any closer. Please.”

The demon crouches down to meet her eye level. In the darkness his eyes give off a faint, red glow. Her visitor shrugs.

“As you wish.”

It takes her a few solid moments to calm down. She takes in the posture of the demon. It’s relaxed and casual, much to her surprise. A soft smile is on his lips all the while. She finds the courage to speak.

“Who are you?”

“Well, as you can see… I’m a demon.” He smiles, revealing two sharp fangs in his mouth. Nilou shivers at how sharp they look.

“And why are you here?”

The demon laughs. “I’m just here to visit you, obviously. See… I have been watching your performances for quite some time now. I must say… they are quite… breathtaking.” His smile widens. Despite how strange this situation is, Nilou can’t help but blush a little at the praise.

“Thank you…”

“...And I believe that great work is to be rewarded properly. So here I am. For this night, you're my mistress. I will do everything you ask of me to the best of my ability.”

What the demon said is still being processed in her mind as he stretches out his left arm towards her. 

“I understand if you don’t trust me. That’s why I will give you my word. And incubi’s words are never empty.”

 Suddenly, his wrist starts glowing. Nilou is taken back by the sizzle and the smell of flesh being burned. The incubus remains still as her constellation is burned into his forearm. The unearthly fire dies down as suddenly as it arose, along with the smell. 

The demon sighs. 

"Now I am not allowed to do anything against your will. As well as this contract, I will provide you with my name. The one thing that allows one to control a demon completely. Call me… Y/N.”

“Y/N…” As she says the word, the demon’s eyes glow blue. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Yours is as well, Nilou. Or… do you want me to call you anything else tonight?”

Nilou thinks for a moment, before replying. 

“Is it okay if you call me… ‘princess’?”

Y/N chuckles. “Of course, princess. It’s all about you tonight. Whatever you wish. ”

Nilou looks at Y/N again. His face bears a smug smile. She traces down to look at his body. It’s large and muscular, but most of it is covered by the casual gown he is wearing. All of his torso, except for a chest window. Before she can fully take it in, the demon speaks again.

“How about we sit somewhere more comfortable, princess Nilou?”

She gives a small nod. Suddenly, Y/N picks her up with one arm, completely effortlessly. She squeals in surprise. He gently lowers her to the bed, and sits beside her. As he does, the clothing parts, letting her see his entire chest. It’s very muscular, with six firm abs and well toned skin. She looks up and down Y/N, taking in his impressive physique. 

"Hey. My eyes are up here, princess." 

Nilou nearly jumps in surprise. Her eyes move from his face to the bed and to the floor in panic. Her cheeks flush red. 

"S-sorry…" She replies somewhat ashamed of how blatantly she was checking him out. 

The demon laughs. 

"Hey, it's okay. Do you like it?" 

"I… u-um… like it a lot." She is redder still, avoiding his smug gaze. 

He suddenly, but gently, grabs her hand, and pulls it to rest on his stomach. 

"You can touch it if you want to. I don't mind."

Nilou gulps. Despite what the demon said, there's still a little spark of worry lingering inside her mind. What if she makes a misstep, and touches him in a spot he doesn't like? He could do something to her… But she has to admit. It's kind of… exciting. To be able to touch such a beautiful body… 

She gently guides her hand along your stomach, feeling every small bump of your muscle. They are firm and hard, yet your skin is soft and warm. So pleasant to touch. She moves up, resting her hand between the breasts, and finds no heartbeat. 

"You… really are not mortal…" She moves up her other hand to your shoulders, gently parting the clothing even further. "May I…?" 

"Yes, feel free. Do what you want with me." You smile encouragingly. 

She removes your top completely, exposing your forearms. She moves closer to you, hands now guiding alongside your forearms. Nilou traces her fingers along the perfect curve of your biceps, taking in how hard, yet soft your flesh is. Her touch is gentle, almost feather light. 

Nilou looks at your face, and an idea suddenly pops into her mind. She lifts her left hand to rest on your cheek. With a slow and careful movement, she moves her thumb to your lips, gently parting them. Her mouth opens slightly as she caresses the teeth. She drags her digit down towards your tongue, and pushes it in slightly. You obediently suck on it, making her blush. 

Nilou clumsily mounts you, and you lean back. She sits on your stomach, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core. She sighs as you speed up your tongue work. Her other hand draws circles around your breast, gently rubbing against the nipple. You let out a soft moan as you surrender to her touch. 

The heat inside her is growing by the second. Y/N… Such a powerful being, big, strong… with nothing but a light press of his sharp teeth he could bite off her fingers, and yet here he is, worshiping her fingers. Such a beautiful creature, surrendering to her every whim… 

Nilou doesn't notice when her hips start moving up and down your abs. You, however, can feel all the wetness seeping through her pajama bottoms. Your hands move to hold her ass, gently helping her move. She gasps when she feels you move, and a small frown appears on her lips. Pleasure? Extortion? Dissatisfaction? You can't tell. 

She grabs your bigger hands and moves them to rest on the covers, pinning them down by the sides of your head. You let her lips find yours as she leans down. Your tongues intertwine, but you let her take the lead. In no time she is exploring your mouth, hips still bucking back and forth against your stomach. 

When she parts with you, hot, blushing and out of breath, you look down at her hips. Her nightgown bottoms are completely soaked in the crotch area. You purr, looking deep into her eyes. 

"Ah, you love that, princess Nilou, don't you?" 

She lets out a small moan, mouth now agape in hard earned pleasure. "Yes…" 

"Let me lend you a hand then."

Your eyes glow, and suddenly her clothes are gone, turned into black particles. This doesn't surprise or startle her. Instead, she just dives into your lips again, exposed pussy rubbing against your soft skin with twice the intensity now. She is too overcome with lust and desire to care, or feel even an ounce of shame. 

With an especially wide hip move, her core rubs against your bulge. In an instant, a new wave of desire overcomes her. Her nose takes in your beautiful, overwhelmingly hot smell, and she can feel that familiar itch between her legs. But this time, her fingers won't do the trick. 

"I want you, now… please… serve me w-with your body, Y/N…" 

Your eyes glow again, and your pants are completely gone in an instant, allowing your cock to spring free of its confines. Without delay, she grabs it in her hand. She rubs her palm against your head, gathering the slick and precum. Nilou timidly takes a whiff of your musk, and her eyes water at how strong it is. Wasting no time, she places your head against her entrance, and slowly, very slowly, starts pushing it in. 

She whines as your tip stretches her body. You move your hands to support her lower thighs, securing her movement. Her eyes flutter shut as she feels her insides being pushed apart, making space for your overwhelming length. She feels so full, so delightfully filled, and yet it's just the halfway point. She moves her hips up and down a little, sending waves of pleasure through the both of you. She moans lightly, hands gripping your shoulders for support. You can feel her fingers digging deeper and deeper into your skin with every millimeter of depth. 

Nilou runs out of breath for a second, before a sweet, loud yelp reaches your ears. You can feel a firm wall of flesh touching your cock. Her eyes roll back, and she falls on your chest, breathing heavily. Her cervix prevents you from going deeper, so you start moving your hips back. Gently, but firmly, you snap them back forward, striking her wall and earning a gasp from her. She digs her nails into you, drawing blood as you fuck her gently. 

Nilou soon convulses, her walls pulsing, throbbing and clenching around your shaft. With her first orgasm, any sense of boundary or restraint is gone. Despite her orgasm induced exhaustion, she starts moving again. You both moan in unison as Nilou lets go of her desires and rides you for another orgasm. 

And then another, and another until her body gave out on her. You left her there, bruised, covered in hickeys and absolutely spent. 

The sleep she had was the best of her life that night. 

—

Nilou awoke the next morning. Every part of her hurt, from her toes to the top of her head. Lightly stretching, she looked around her room. Even though she remembered it to be more or less trashed, it was cleaned. A new set of pajamas, identical to those she lost during the night, was resting on top of her night stand. 

On shaky, sore legs she moved to the bathroom. Moving to the kitchen after washing herself down with lukewarm water, a silver, covered tray caught her attention. A small piece of paper lay next to it. She glanced over the text, written in beautiful, decorative font. 

"Loved the night. Made you breakfast. See you on the next show, princess~ - Y/N."

Nilou lifted the cover, coming face to face with a steaming hot pile of pancakes. She nearly squealed with joy at the sight. The girl rushed to grab some cutlery, but a flash of pain stopped her in her tracks. Rubbing her sore hips, she chuckled to himself. 

Maybe she really did go too far yesterday. 

Thanks for reading!

[definitelynotshouting]

i literally can't stop rotating hunger au worldbuilding and lore in my head. forgive me if you've ever touched on this in an ask before, but... re: the existential horror of being a parasite that has the sense of self of the host it ate. if one of grian's friends ever did get taken and used as a watcher larva host. how do you think he would feel about the watcher that came out the other side? would he want to see them as still the same person as his friend, or...?

Ive been staring at this ask since i got it with like. I need you to picture the most comically heartbroken expression right now okay. like this is me reading that and thinking about it in great and terrible detail:

Gods he would be devastated if this ever happened. He knows what thats like. He knows just how much it hurts-- and that its not a hurt that can be quantified, because its just that intense, that scalding, that encompassing of an experience to go through. I think, genuinely, Grian would be so utterly horrified and grief-stricken for whichever friend went through the Watcherification process that it would trump every other potential feeling on the list

But i think, ultimately, he would still view them as his friend, and treat them in the same way. There's a little bit of hypocrisy in Grian's character that i enjoy engaging with while writing him, and a good part of that in hunger au is centered around how he's firmly designated himself as the monster, and everybody else is the victim, and theres no room for nuance because he sucks and theyre the only people who are valid. When in reality, yes he hurt them, yes he did terrible and invasive things, but he did them out of pure survival rather than maliciousness, and that does make a subtle difference. And... hes not the only one who has fucked up, either!! The entire point of hunger au is how everyone has fumbled the bag in various ways and now they're all trying to clean it up together. Its just, yknow, Grian is so wrapped up in his own pain that he cant see those grey areas yet

And the thing is, if one of his friends got Watchered™, so to speak, and was standing in front of him, i think he would treat them with SO much compassion. Theyve been through possibly the worst thing anyone can experience and come out the other side-- at his core, Grian is i think a character who wants to do good, and do good by other people, and in this hypothetical that would translate into a lot of kindness he doesnt usually afford for himself. Honestly i think he'd spend the time trying to show them the ropes, get them set up in a better position than he found himself in, and provide his own fumbling emotional support as best he could, just out of sheer solidarity. Like, he gets it. He's been there. He may as well help out.

And i think he wouldnt even realize how hypocritical he's being until someone else pointed it out to him, about how he treats this friend with so much care but is simultaneously cruel to himself. I dont think he'd know how to handle that-- he's sort of dug himself a rut in the road with the way he thinks about and treats himself, and the cognitive dissonance would be really uncomfortable for him. Ultimately a good thing!!! Growth is often very uncomfortable. But imo Grian has a tendency to run from things like feelings of discomfort, so i think it'd take him a while to reconcile his previous ways of thinking with whats being presented in front of him essentially in the form of a mirror.

So uh. tl;dr: he'd be a little hypocrite about it and would feel a lot more compassionately inclined towards the friend than he does himself, and would try to help them out as best he could. Thank you for the incredible question that has given me the opportunity to rotate this worm at even higher speeds than usual inside my brainpan DKNFEKNDSKDJKDKD

[pinkeoni]

Why The Dragon Could Represent Will's Self Harm

TW: Discussion of self harm

This is an idea I've had swimming around in my head for awhile but I didn't start seeing the evidence for it until recently.

Why the dragon is connected to Will

This point is pretty easy to explain— the dragon in Will's painting was painted by Will.

I mean, it's a pretty simple reasoning but it's solid. Even without getting into the nitty gritty of the creation theory, you can point to the fact that since Will painted the dragon, he essentially created it. Will conjured the dragon in his painting, so he will likely conjure the dragon in some form during the climax.

It's always possible that Vecna could conjure the dragon, but dragons aren't really his MO. Vecna's into spiders, not dragons. It makes much more sense fantasy and Dungeons & Dragons to be the one to conjure the dragon. Thank you to @bylrndgm for pointing out that Will has some winged creatures (possible dragons) on his bedroom wall in Hawkinsand while looking for screenshots I found this dragon toy behind Will (in a scene where he’s being self deprecating no less)

This could also be another Vecna/Will parallel. In season 4 we see little Henry draw his spider monster before turning it into a reality in the Upside Down. Will painted the dragon, so he'll create a real dragon. Similarly, if the spider monster (Mind Flayer) that Henry created is meant to also himself, then could the dragon that Will creates also be himself as well?

How the dragon could represent his self harm

This part is going to take a little more explaining than the last part. I'll start with explaining Will's self harm.

Will doesn't really self harm in a traditional sense, rather we see him emotionally harm himself. While there are a few moments where we see Will stick up for himself, (the rain fight, Rink-O-Mania) there seems to be a line where Will no longer asserts his feelings outward but rather directs them inward and ends up hurting himself in the process. The rain fight results in the destruction of Castle Byers, and when Lucas tries to apologize to Will later, Will claims that it doesn't matter anymore. Something similar happened at Rink-O-Mania, where initially Will is able to defend himself but then later claims that he actually "deserved it."

And then, of course, we see Will harm himself emotionally when he gives Mike the painting under the guise of it being from El. Here we see a recurring aspect of Will's self harm, his self sacrificial nature.

In episode 1x01, Will sacrifices Will the Wise in the D&D game for the sake of the rest of the party. In episode 2x08, Will tries to sacrifice himself again when he instructs everyone to "CLOSEGATE" despite the fact that this would kill him. These two instances combined with the painting show how little regard Will has for his own self preservation, so long as others are saved.

What's interesting about all three of these instances of sacrifice is that they involve fire, burning, or even the dragon itself. The most obvious one being Will's dragon painting, which he uses to try and fix Mike and El's relationship and therefore hurts his own feelings.

When Will sacrifices himself in 1x01, he does so while casting fireball.

In order to get the mind flayer properly out of Will in order to properly close the gate, they do so by burning it out of him (and Will even receives a physical burn from Nancy in this scene).

Why this would manifest as the dragon

ST tends to use its supernatural and horror elements to explore themes of mental illness. The most recent and obvious example being the Vecna's Curse plot from last season, which was used to explore trauma and suicidal ideation. The NINA plot was a look at trauma and repressed memories through a sci-fi lens. In the case of Will, his true sight episodes were a supernatural spin on PTSD flashbacks. The show rarely ever has monsters just for the sake of monsters. Even the giant flesh monster from s3 was likely used as a metaphor for forced conformity and patriotism.

So then, when a big dragon gets manifested in the show, likely by Will, I don't think it would be just a big dragon for the sake of having a big dragon; I think that the dragon would likely be used to represent some kind of aspect regarding mental health. And based on what I've mentioned above, the aspect in question would likely be Will's self destruction.

How would a dragon be used to show self harm?

Something important about Will's dragon is that it has multiple heads.

It's been theorized as to exactly how many heads the dragon would have. Would it have seven heads like the dragon in revelations? Five heads like the Tiamat from D&D? Or just three heads like Will's painting? (Likely the last option) No matter how many heads, the dragon in each example has multiple heads, enough heads to be able to cause harm to another one.

Considering that the Duffers often pay homage to other sources, I was wondering if there was any examples in other media or mythology to a self destructive dragon— and then I remembered the Ouroboros

The Ouroboros is an ancient multicultural symbol that has taken on a few different interpretations depending on the culture it comes from, but is always represented as "a serpent or dragon eating its own tail."

The ouroboros usually represents the cycle of death and rebirth, but is also commonly seen as a symbol of self destruction.

Will doesn't realize that his self harm hurts others

Something that I don't think Will is quite aware of is that whenever he self harms or self sacrifices, he believes he is only harming himself but doesn't realize that he's harming others. When he sacrifices himself in D&D and subsequently goes missing, he doesn't see the pain and distraught that it brings to everyone. When Will gives his dragon painting to Mike under the guise of it being from El, he doesn't realize that he's actually hurting both of them through his attempt to save their relationship.

What this could mean for the dragon is that it could be harming itself, like in the case of the ouroboros, but it could also be causing damage to everything around it in the process. Imagine, for example, the dragon breathing fire on one of its other heads, but it ends up setting fire to part of the town. A dragon literally at war with itself whose self destruction spills outward, just like Will.

In the terms of how this works thematically, this is how the dragon could be used to show Will's journey toward selfishness. Contrasting his many instances of self sacrifices, Will learns that the real answer to saving others involve saving himself, and that's how they defeat the dragon.

Prediction for how this could happen in the show

Here's a rough timeline for how this could play out in the show:

We see Will's self destructing nature build up throughout the season

The dragon ends up manifesting at the climax, likely in episode 7

The dragon manifests at a point where Will is at his lowest, possibly considering sacrificing himself for the benefit of others. He doesn't realize that this would do more harm than good

The dragon tries to destroy itself but does damage to everything around it in the process

Will realizes that he was the one who created the dragon and has to contend with why it was created

Part of defeating it means Will has to have a personal realization

This point is a little less fleshed out but the party defeats the dragon together as part of the final battle before the final confrontation with Vecna

tagging: @howtobecomeadragon @smalltown-babygirl

[everythingwasnormalhere]

🧸🏳️‍🌈♿📈 and uhh "how do their family/friends react to it" once I forgot the emoji for- for kenny and uhh maybe Craig and also maybe twerk? (That is if u hc either of them as disabled In any way)

I hc literally everyone as disabled, so you're getting answers for all 3 >:3

Kenny:

♿️ - What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?

Besides his chronic pain i wont stop talking about, he has AuDHD, depression, MaDD and C-PTSD ✨

His C-PTSD symtoms didn't show much until adulthood (late 20s-early 30s), because that was when his brain processed the environment as safe and stopped being in permanent survival mode. However, the symptoms of everything else have showed since he was Really young, his MaDD was at its worst when he was around 12 (iykyk) and got better since he left south park, mainly after he started therapy (took him long enough smh)

📈 - What age was their disability formed, or became apparent, at?

The first time one of his deaths still hurt after the fact was on s3 e1, after Kelly revived him. However, he didn't give it much thought, thinking it was just what getting killed by lightning was like. Then it was kind of like a roulette whether it'd hurt or not, but even when it did it was incredibly easy to ignore - until his teens, when he died so often (more on purpose than not) it quickened the effects a lot

🦮 - Do they have supportive friends and/or family? How do they help on bad days? (i think you meant this one)

Yeah, he does! His friends are generally supportive, even cartman after he gets over his assholery. His siblings too :) stuart however is an asshole, and even though kenny went NC with carol i feel like she'd be quite supportive idk. And about how they help on bad days, cuddles from butters mostly do the trick XD if butters isn't there though, more often than not will someone at the very least pay attention to him, either helping out by getting him stuff (food etc) or doing something to keep him entertained (talking, board games, depends on how hes feeling tbh)

🧸- Do they have a comfort item?

He used to have his orange parka, but since karen inherited he doesn't have it anymore, so i would say he doesn't really have any comfort items? Unless we count the mimikyu plush, but idk if that would really qualify as a comfort item much, other than making him think of butters whenever he sees it :)

🏳️‍🌈 - A random headcanon about them and their disability

-He diagnosed craig's autism way before any professional did, but he thought craig was aware of it so he didn't say anything 💀 (he has the strongest autismdar ever) -Most of his daydreams are similar to the stuff he thought in the cheesing episode in some way or another -He used to deal with flashbacks by going on normally with his life, to the point nobody but his friends could ever tell he was going through The Horrors - however as his PTSD worsened he couldn't do that anymore

Craig:

♿️ - What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?

Autism, it's painfully obvious yet he wasn't diagnosed till he was 15 😭

📈 - What age was their disability formed, or became apparent, at?

From kenny's pov, ever since craig was born 💀 but most people in his life didn't see it as disabling until it began messing with his studies in his teens

🦮 - Do they have supportive friends and/or family? How do they help on bad days?

YUP!!! His parents didn't think it was autism at first, "no everyone does that", surprise all the Tucker's are autistic XD They were a bit confused at first, not knowing what to do, but they were still super supportive about it :) Tricia was as much of a dick to him as usual so nothing new on her side lmao, and his friends were cool about it as soon as they learnt about his diagnosis (cue teasing from kenny and jimmy for thinking he was neurotipical smh, nah craig sry but you stuck with the nds 💀). Also, TWEEK, boy is so loud and that makes him feel so guilty because of how it overwhelms craig ;w; he was the first person who knew craig got diagnosed besides his family, and he did his best to accomodate him as much as he needed :3

🧸- Do they have a comfort item?

Not comforting autism-wise but comforting regardless, the shit ton of (accurate to constellations) glow in the dark stars in his bedroom, he cannot sleep without them. He also has a tiny alien plush keychain he found at Tweek's house and Tweek insisted he should keep it (neither of them know where it came from 💀), so that's another thing :)

🏳️‍🌈 - A random headcanon about them and their disability

-After the diagnosis he refused to leave his room for weeks because he didn't know how to cope with it, and nobody besides his family and tweek were allowed to come in during that period - in the end though, with their help he accepted it -Something I've mentioned a couple times already but is hilarious to me: he didn't talk until he was four (how did it take him so long to get diagnosed), and his first words were a "cállate pendejo" directed at cartman 😭

Tweek:

♿️ - What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?

Tourettes, anxiety, schizophrenia and PPD - most of these were at the very least influenced by the whole meth in coffee thing

📈 - What age was their disability formed, or became apparent, at?

He gave symptoms of all these since he was really young, besides PPD, which only became obvious almost as soon as he left his house

🦮 - Do they have supportive friends and/or family? How do they help on bad days?

Family? Haha ok next question--- About his friends though, they do their best to help him with it. Most times during the worst days he can only stand Craig's company, who will listen to him and try to help him feel safe, however normally he's ok enough to be with others just fine. He gets accomodations at college and later at work too, like being allowed to stay home some days or to leave early

🧸- Do they have a comfort item?

YES YES YES !!! Storytime, after craig and tweek dated for three years, craig's anniversary gift was a green stuffed stegosaurus (since tweek was fixated on dinosaurs back then), which tweek named peanuts :) Peanuts became the way tweek would deal with any anxiety attacks, but he tugged at him so hard he broke - however, laura patched peanuts up for tweek (after craig quite literally begged her to, she would've done it anyway but he did anyway) Then, when they moved out, peanuts disappeared :( until the tuckers found him under craig's bed, who knows how he ended up there XD SO tweek's comfort item is the oldest most used up cutest little stego ever :3 (also does having a room full of spiders count as a comfort item? idk but he does cuz he loves spiders, craig despises that room with his whole soul poor boy hates spiders so much 😭)

🏳️‍🌈 - A random headcanon about them and their disability

Went NC with his parents as soon as he could!!! He also stopped drinking their coffee in his early teens, but because he (and everyone tbh) thought what messed up his health was the caffeine not the meth - he didn't find out about the fact he was being drugged until he was told the "secret family recipe" when he turned 18 (and, understandably, he was PISSED)

[mythicandco]

A Dark And Stormy Night

tw for minor body horror

it's a dark and stormy night.

to be entirely honest, it's cliche. it knows it's cliche, but it's all it can think, looking out the window. raindrops patter against its face and it winces, closing its eyes a little.

the already black sky is completely logged with clouds, lightning illuminating the darkness in spite of stars. it feels something uncomfortable shift in its ribs and grimaces, altering its position in the passenger seat to make up for it.

he glances over at it, looks away again. it doesn't blame him, imagines how it must look now. it notes quietly he doesn't have a rearview mirror or any on either side of the car- that's stupid, and dangerous, but it would also be stupid and dangerous to have them.

he doesn't tell it to roll the window up, but it does after a moment anyways. guilt drags heavy on its bones and skin, and the last thing it wants is to get the inside of his car wet.

it opens its mouth, finds its tongue and teeth aren't in the right positions, and closes it again. if it talks, it'll come out wrong. it doesn't want to make him any more uneasy than it already has.

"you alright over there, kid?" he doesn't take his eyes off the road when he finally breaks the sound of tires on wet asphalt, rain on the metal roof of the vehicle. "I mean, as alright as the circumstances can allow, obviously."

the engine hums in both their bones. bones that click into place. tendons that quietly shift under skin. minds that slowly meld into one. the catalyst was the spark. it's only a matter of time now before it all goes up in a burning inferno of hell.

why did you help me.

it puts a hand over its mouth, but that doesn't stop the sound, if you could even call it that. it isn't... physical, like vibrations from vocal chords. it's something tinged with static, something that curls around the edges of his already-curdling psyche. he winces, and it feels more guilty.

"I don't know," Thatcher admits at length, tapping out an uneasy rhythm on the steering wheel. "you're a kid. you deserve better than that."

it swallows thickly, bleach still burning the nerves behind its eyes. he'd expected it to kill him, but instead it just ate away at all the soft tissue until there was nothing human left but the murky red puddle at its feet. that's why it's an it, not a he.

I'm a monster.

Thatcher lets out a weak chuckle that gives way to a wet-sounding cough. "aren't we all?"

you have no idea how true that is about to be. it hisses and bangs a fist on the center console, startled into speaking out loud. the words are distorted and feel wrong and don't sound like a voice so much as a machine trying to replicate one, but at least they're real. "sh-shit. I didn't mean to-"

"I get it. I get it, it's okay." he doesn't understand what it just said, but he also does, in a way. he can feel it burrowing into the back of his mind, too. he's had MAD for a long time now. "listen. I've been living with that kind of shit for years now. you're not trying to hurt anyone, and as long as you aren't, nothing you say will affect me. alright?"

it nods weakly, feeling sick. half-melted vocal chords strain to get words out. "I'm sorry."

"don't be. it's not your fault."

but it is. I'm the catalyst. everyone is fucked over and it is very much my fault.

Thatcher glares over at it, and it flinches back. he immediately pulls back, mutters an apology of his own. "don't say things like that. if anyone's to blame, it's me. there are at least four people dead because of things I didn't do to protect them. you never asked for any of this, it was all laid out for you before you were even- born, or whatever. but I had it coming."

it closes its eyes again. I want my mommy.

he pauses, processing that. after a minute, he gives up. there's not much to say.

"we'll be back at my place soon. just gotta hold on until then, okay?"

"...okay."

it turns its eyes back outside. it's a dark and stormy night.

[jellycreamjammedart]

Lost and Found (Super)Stars

PT. 3 (index/parts) (Tag: desktop/mobile)

FNAF Security Breach Ruin, post-"betrayal" elevator ending hurt/comfort, Found Family, something I like to call "Hopeful Horror"

Summary: Having had her kindness stomped on then spat back at her, betrayed by who she thought was her friend, and now stuck at the ruined remains of Freddy Fazbear's Mega PizzaPlex, Cassie tries to find the slightest bit of meaning and worth in all of this.

Everything was foggy at the seams, colors blurring together, but Cassie could make out a birthday cake before her (carrot cake, her favorite,) with a familiar wolf and bear as they both sung her a birthday song, a boy clapping along to the tune. She can feel her own face beaming with a wide smile before she blows the candles on the cake, somehow blowing everything and everyone around her as if everything was smoke of several colors, the singing fading away.

-

Cassie opens her eyes and blinks, looking up to see Roxy looking down at her with what she could imagine was a worried expression if she still had her facial features. She could feel the wolf's hand on her back, likely to stop her from being flat on the floor. "Huh... what happened?" She asks, bringing a hand to rub her eyes with her thumb and index.

Roxy's ears gave a light twitch, glad to hear the girl's voice. "It looks like you suffered a dizzy spell. From hitting your head in that elevator, I assume." It wouldn't be a stretch, given Cassie clearly had blood trickling down her head every now and then.

"Dizzy spell?" Cassie parroted, trying to sit herself more upright. "How long?"

"Not long. Around two minutes." Roxy, being a robot, could be sharply precise at counting time, but rounding it up seemed far more useful. "How are you feeling now?"

Cassie, took her hand away from her face, blinking her eyes a few times as she contemplates Roxy's concern. "... better. I think the dizziness passed." She looks down, seeing the V.A.N.N.I mask resting on her lap. Wordlessly, she puts it back on, immediately getting greeted by not only Helpi, but M.X.E.S as well, as the two digital beings look down at her along with Roxy.

"Oh, hey! You're finally awake!" Helpi exclaims, his blue eyes twinkling in relief and joy. "You had us worried there!" He glances back at the cybernetic rabbit. "Isn't that right?"

M.X.E.S rolls its eyes, crossing its arms as it glanced away. It didn't refute Helpi, however.

Helpi just chuckles slightly, winking at Cassie. "Don't mind them! They just need to get used to sharing the V.A.N.N.I system with me!"

Cassie blinks at the little bear. Sharing the V.A.N.N.I system? Helpi seemed to sense her inquisition. "When you configured the mask into a security node for them, it allowed them integration into the V.A.N.N.I system, just like me!" He paused to give Cassie a bemused smile. "It sure is something I've never considered possible, or considered at all! No one thought of this before. But perhaps it is good that you did." Helpi goes a little more serious, despite his adorable looks. "... their integration into the system appears to have expelled something else from the system." From serious, the tiny bear also expresses remorse, his smile fading a little. "... if I ever said or did anything that misled you and contributed to your plight, I am terribly sorry. That... might not have been truly me."

For an AI programmed to be just a work tool full of that soulless corporate talk, Helpi really does look like he feels guilty for unwittingly setting Cassie up, even though it's likely that he either didn't notice something was wrong or had no say in it. With M.X.E.S integrated into the V.A.N.N.I system, it seems the rabbit turned into an extra protection for the system including Helpi's AI. "I don't remember those moments really, though; it seems that in the process of securing my AI from further interception, my memories from those moments got corrupt. They might be repairable, but I don't see it happening anytime soon."

Well, bummer, if he could remember, he could pinpoint exactly when that thing intervened to lie to Cassie, but perhaps it's the price to pay for a more secure system thanks to M.X.E.S. The rabbit was single-handedly keeping both their minds safer.

Helpi shakes his head at himself, trying to switch back to his more peppy self. "But enough feeling bad! We have work to do, and you've proved to be cut for the job with your thinking outside the box! You'd make an excellent Faz-technician, if you were old enough Fazbear Entertainment would hire you on the spot!" Okay, that's a bit of the corporate talk junk, but beggars can't be choosers.

But either way Helpi was right: they have work to do.

"Think you can stand up?" Roxy asks cautiously as she felt Cassie stirring, keeping her hand on the child's back just in case. The girl lets out a positive hum in response.

"Yeah, I don't feel dizzy anymore."

"Good!"

But Cassie was careful anyways as she stood up to her feet. She looks from Roxy in her holographically reconstructed self, to Helpi, then to M.X.E.S, before briefly glancing to the bunny's server now up and running okay... then to that Glamrock Freddy backpack close to a collapsed vent. She picks it up in her hands, staring down at it. "It is Gregory's."

The name prompts a very low growl from Roxy somewhere behind Cassie but she doesn't say anything. She stares rather intently at the little nametag close to the bottom of the backpack, before her gaze shifted to what looked like muddy smudges from the vent. "I'm pretty sure this is his, too." She pulls out the Freddy-talk from her pocket, which she had collected from the other room before Roxy saved them both from being flattened by a boulder. The same Freddy-talk that thing used to lure her in.

Her grip on the cute little device tightened, her hand shaking slightly with a feeling of bitterness.

It's Gregory's fault that all this happened in the first place.

He was so careless in not only leaving his Freddy-talk behind but also his entire backpack. This carelessness was what gave that old thing an opening to reach her.

Why does Gregory get to commit such mistake and get away with it, but she has to be punished not only for hers but his as well? Why does she have to pay for what was his slip-up so that he can wash his hands at her expense!?

It's not fair.

The longer Cassie stared at the nametag, the more it was as if she was looking at the most insulting word in the entire vocabulary. "He was never my friend." She mutters out bitterly.

She would've thrown the Freddy-talk to the floor in frustration, but couldn't bring herself to do it due to Glamrock Freddy's image. Instead she tucks it back into her pocket to free her hand, then she tugs the tip of Gregory's nametag with her nail until she can pull it, ripping the adhesive off the backpack like a nasty bandaid. She crumples the little tape into a fist and tosses it away, before glancing back at the other three. "Finders keepers."

That seems to amuse Roxy, who barely suppresses a snort. "Hah! It's just too bad it's not a backpack with my face." She says mostly jokingly. But otherwise pays it no mind; Truth be told, she does miss the bookish bear, along with all the good times of the PizzaPlex. "Either way, that will sure come in handy. You're risking losing things from those tiny pockets of yours." Seriously, why are pockets in female clothes borderline unusable?

Cassie opens the backpack, and proceeds to tuck in both the Freddy and Roxy-talkies, then her Faz-Wrench and flashlight, as well as anything else she may have found along the way, then things she had shoved at the bottom of her pockets, which turned out to be a little bunch of cereal bars; Hey, she had prepared a little for what she thought would be a straightforward rescue mission!

Roxy's ears perk up at the sight of the treats; Those kinds of snacks might be the only things in the PizzaPlex that are still safe for human consumption... if they find any more of it. That's something the wolf keeps in the backburner; Cassie certainly will need to eat at some point, being human and all.

"So," Cassie turns to fully face Roxy, as well as Helpi and M.X.E.S, tucking her arms through the backpack's straps to carry it on her back. "- are we ready for that race, after all?"

Roxy's torn up chest emulates a puff forward in pride towards her twice number 1's initiative. "I thought you'd never ask." She gathers Cassie up into her arms then onto her back. "Hang in there, it's a bit of a bump road ahead!" She heeds, leaving the basement room through the hole back into the earth tunnels up which led back to the remains of the old pizzeria. Cassie had to slide the mask up off her face since that area was out of the V.A.N.N.I network zone, but she knew Helpi and M.X.E.S weren't far off.

To Be Continued...