#i fear the activity tab

[existencebringsonlypain]

do I dare refresh and face the Beasts?

[patrickztump]

if your pet is found by someone who takes it to a vet or shelter, microchips are a great, sure fire way of obtaining your information. qr code tags are great if your pet is found by someone who knows to scan it, a profile with an image + multiple ways of contacting, and maybe even medical conditions + medication needs, can be readily available. but if your pet is found by someone who is not tech savvy or doesn’t have access to a vet or the scanner cannot read you your pet’s microchip, these wonderful methods can make it harder to reach you. which is why a classic metal tag with contact info engraved will always remain the superior fallback, in my opinion. couple it with any more modern, technological option, but never leave it out.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

so judging by how astonished people are by it every time we explain it to anybody, it seems like my wife and I might really be onto something here

during the pandemic, we invented something we call "astronaut time."

when it's astronaut time, it's like we are two astronauts wearing the big helmets, moving around the station on totally separate tasks. one of us is outside the space station and one of us is inside the space station. our radios do not work and we have no way of communicating with each other. we might see each other through the lil porthole windows, but we ignore each other because we both have different things to do.

"astronaut time" is how we get total privacy when we live in the same apartment. I will pretend you don't exist. You will pretend I don't exist. we have a nonverbal, zero-contact signal for when astronaut time is over (usually "I'll draw a smiley-face on the whiteboard in the kitchen when I'm done"). No talking, stay out of each other's line of sight, we are actively avoiding each other, unless you are currently experiencing a medical emergency goodbye.

it has been. a godsend. imagine living with your partner and being able to close every single tab in your brain related to social interaction. no fear of being interrupted by a "hey, quick question--" or "sorry to bother you, but do you know where the scissors are?" or "did you want something to eat, too?" Once or twice a month, we look at each other lovingly, hold hands, and say "baby I think I need some astronaut time tonight," and the other person goes "okay cool. bye! have a nice night!" and nobody's feelings are hurt and we both go and have a lovely evening completely by ourselves.

like idk it's a small thing but it's made our lives so much nicer, so if you and your partner/roommate are both people who sometimes need total privacy in order to recharge, maybe try it

[bi-writes]

ghost always gets what he wants. (18+, blood kink, dark)

right now, what he wants is sitting across the pub from him. she's smiling, swinging her legs a little as she talks to the bloke next to her. he's leaning into her space, making her laugh, buying her drinks and keeping her smiling and a little drunk. he's putting it on heavy, ghost can tell--actively listening to her, engaging in the conversation, never letting her add her drink to any tab but his own.

ghost tilts his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth under the mask. that man wouldn't know what to do with that kind of a girl. she's all woman, soft skin, wide hips, a pair of tits he knows would feel like welcome weights between the palms of his gloved hands, pouty lips that deserved to be kissed and bitten and sliding along the length of a cock that can fill her up and choke her from the inside out.

that's what pretty girls like her deserve--to be fucked spineless, to be reduced to nothing but a teary, whimpering mess. a muppet like that would never know what to do with her, how to touch her, how to make her sing.

she's a soft thing. a pretty thing. and he wants her, so he will have her.

you exit the bathroom, a skip in your step as you shuffle outside. he said he would get a car, take you home, and you bounce on your toes as you wait by the curb, looking around the empty parking lot for your ride. but after a few minutes, you turn your head each way, and you realize no one is here, and there is no car coming.

you fully spin around when a dark figure comes out from behind the alleyway. big boots crunch the gravel underneath, and when he comes under the light of the streetlamp, you take a small step back.

the light cuts an angle over his face. you swallow, taking in the breadth of him, tilting your head to look up at him as he steps closer. his mask covers most of his face, and the eyeblack clouds his skin, but you can see the determination in his eyes. it is in the rigidness of his shoulders, the way he stands--and it is the pass of a tactical knife over his chest that you understand the danger that one person can impose.

he wipes one side of it over his dark jacket, stepping closer, until he's in your space, hovering over you. your lips part as he brings the knife down, pressing the other side of it against your throat. you tense a little as he meets your eyes, passing it over until the blood against the sharp edge wipes off, staining the skin of your neck.

he pauses when he sees the hint of a smile on your face. he narrows his eyes, expecting fear, expecting something other than the interest that sparkles in your eyes. like you are all-knowing. like you see everything he is, everything he is not, and like you know what it is he wants.

"i see you," you whisper. "all the time."

ghost sniffs, glaring, and you keep your eyes on his as he drags the knife down your chest, the tip of it moving down between your breasts.

"you're not very subtle," you finish. "quite obvious, what it is that you do...why you do it."

ghost tilts his head to the side, clicking his tongue, and you almost giggle.

"is tha' right, swee'eart?"

you nod.

"been waiting," you say softly.

"for wot?"

you smile.

"for you to make your move," you murmur. your eyes flicker down, eyeing the blood on the front of his jacket. you look up into his eyes again, pursing your lips, and ghost bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. fuck, the same thing he sees in his dreams, it's in your fucking eyes. you're not afraid, and it angers him, repulses him, and fulfills him all the same. "hmm...you didn't approve of him?"

ghost growls, "was a right muppet. cried like a baby."

your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and ghost follows the drag of your tongue hungrily. you are not the screaming, soft, doe-eyed little thing he thought he might like to have.

you are silent, deadly, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he does not just want to have you. he needs you. he needs you to live under his skin. he needs to taste you, to have you flood his mouth, to chew and eat and swallow and breathe.

he would say you are his match made in heaven, but he knows this does not exist, because if it did, he wouldn't be real. and neither would you.

"ooof," you scrunch your nose. "i hate cry babies."

you almost make him laugh.

he steps closer, sliding the knife lower until it rests at the curve of your waist.

"you don't need that, you know," you whisper, and he leans in, the front of his mask brushing against your lips.

"no?"

"no," you echo, smiling wider. "if you wanna feel up my skirt, all you gotta do is ask. it'd be nice to have your name first though."

"ghost."

you giggle, "your real name, baby."

"'s ghost."

"that what you want me to say when i'm in your bed tonight?"

"who said you'll be in m'bed?"

you reach up with one hand, dragging the tip of your finger down the strong line of his jaw. he towers over you, shadows you, and the knife is sharp against your skin, but all you want is to be a little closer.

you close your eyes when you feel his hand. the tips of his gloved fingers graze the skin of your upper thighs, and you suck in a soft breath when he drags that hand up under your skirt. you put both hands on his chest as you tremble slightly, holding onto him for support as his big hand fondles one side of your ass. his fingers creep lower, and he groans audibly.

"no knickers, swee'eart?" he mutters, and you just giggle breathlessly. "how long 'av y'been waitin' for me, huh?"

you open your eyes, tilting your head back and holding back a whine when you feel his thick fingers prodding at your folds, soaking up the slick there and teasing your cunt. it's sick--you must be sick, you must be awful, you must be so dead inside, you have to be, but it's so hard to care.

you gasp when he grips your throat, forcing your eyes on his, and you hold him there.

"answer me. how long 'av y'been waitin' for me?"

you soften, smile, bare your teeth for him.

"my whole life, baby."

[vanteguccir]

─��� ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x student!reader

SUMMARY: Amid relentless academic pressure, Y/N finds herself consumed by the desperate pursuit of perfection in her college. Her obsession with validation leads her to neglect her own basic needs until a sudden accident forces her to confront the reality of her situation, receiving the complete help and support of her boyfriend, Chris.

WARNING: Comparison, crying, dark thoughts, fainting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @sturniolowhore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sat at her desk in the corner of her shared room with Chris, surrounded by mountains of books, papers, and her laptop, whose screen glowed brightly in the semi-darkness of the room. The clock on the wall showed 2 a.m., but for her, time had lost all meaning.

The sound of Chris' light snores, who was sleeping soundly in the bed just a few meters away from the girl, sounded muffled against her ears. She had tried to sleep, really, but sleep wouldn't come at all, and when Y/N was sure that her boyfriend had finally slept, she was able to get up.

Her mind was totally immersed in study. Every cell in her body focused on absorbing every detail of the laws, the precedent cases, and the doctrines. She was obsessed with academic validation, an incessant compulsion to be the best in her law school, not because she wanted to be better than others, but to show herself that she was capable of something.

The pressure to achieve excellence was overwhelming. Every time a score was posted, her heart raced in anticipation, and each less-than-perfect mark was a stab at her already fragile self-esteem.

Y/N never felt like she was enough, no matter how hard she worked or how well she did. There was always that underlying fear of not being good enough, of not living up to other people's expectations and, even worse, her own unrealistically high expectations.

Days and nights melted into a haze of books and coffee as she sank deeper and deeper into her quest for perfection. She found herself studying until the early hours of the morning, neglecting her basic needs.

Eating had become a sporadic activity, limited to quick and insufficient snacks. Drinking water was a luxury she couldn't afford to waste time on. Taking a shower or even going out to get some sun was completely out of the question.

Her body began to show signs of abandonment, her eyes sunken and tired, her skin pale and lifeless. The dark circles that adorned her face were like badges of honor, marking the sleepless nights and days of incessant study.

But Y/N ignored all the signs.

She was determined not to be overcome by her own limits, even if it meant sacrificing her physical and mental health in the process.

Chris, worried, tried in vain to bring a little normality to her life. He watched from afar every day, helpless in the face of the web of obsession that enveloped Y/N.

He would try to talk to her, sometimes even begging Matt to do so - his brother had a way with words, but she would always evade it, sinking deeper into her bubble of study and self-denial.

Y/N didn't want to worry him, didn't want to admit she was losing control. She was determined to face this battle alone, no matter the cost.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The clock on the wall read almost 9 pm of a Tuesday, and Y/N was still locked in her shared room with Chris, immersed in a sea of ​​books and papers. Her desk was a chaotic mess, with crumpled papers and several tabs open on Google on her laptop, each representing a different subject that she was desperately trying to absorb. Her hand hurt from writing so much, her eyes burned from reading so much, and her body was weak from the time she had spent there.

Chris entered the room for the fifth time that day, carrying a glass of water in one hand and a pink plate with a simple sandwich in the other. His heart sank when he saw Y/N's state, her tense and exhausted expression, her almost obsessive determination to continue studying, ignoring everything else.

His blue eyes traveled across the mess of the table slowly, noticing the plate of Y/N's favorite cookies, which he had brought hours earlier, still untouched, and he swore he felt his heart break again.

"Hi babe... Here, you need to eat something." The boy approached cautiously, trying not to scare her. His voice sounded softly, showing her the plate with the sandwich.

Y/N looked down at the ceramic, her tired eyes reflecting a mix of stubbornness and exhaustion.

"I... I need to keep studying." She murmured, shaking her head, her voice weak and shaky. "I have an important test, Chris. I can't stop now."

Chris felt a wave of frustration and anger rise up inside him. He knew how important that test was for Y/N - and all the others she studied incessantly, but he also knew that she was pushing her limits. He refused to stand by and watch as she destroyed herself.

“Y/N, you can’t go on like this.” He insisted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. "You need to rest, you need to eat, you need to do something besides studying!"

"I can't, Chris. I can't stop now. I need to..." Y/N shook her head determinedly, keeping her blurry eyes fixed on the papers in front of her.

Chris sighed heavily, dropping the plate and cup onto the wooden surface with a thud, his own frustration spilling over into angry tears.

“You’re destroying yourself, Y/N.” He murmured, his voice choked by the weight of his own emotions. "And I can't stand here and watch it anymore."

With that, Chris turned and left the room, leaving a very lost Y/N behind, her teeth biting her lower lip hard in an attempt to stop her feelings from taking over herself, an atmosphere full of tension and despair taking over the environment.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Then came the day when her body finally said enough was enough.

It was 2 a.m., and Y/N was sitting at her desk as usual when a wave of exhaustion hit her with full force. She felt dizzy, her vision blurred, and her hands shook uncontrollably. The world around her seemed to fall apart as she fought to stay conscious.

The girl gripped the edge of the wooden surface tightly, trying to stabilize herself, but the force used was almost nil, her fingers sliding across the table and her arms falling limply. Her senses gradually disappeared, causing her body to bend to the right until she completely collapsed, escaping the safety of the chair.

The sound of Y/N's body hitting the floor made Chris jump out of bed in instant fright. The boy sat up abruptly, his sleep-clouded eyes traveling around the room in search of the source of the rude sound. His heart raced with panic when he saw his girlfriend lying on the floor, motionless.

Chris ripped the blanket off his body, quickly standing up and running to her, ignoring his own confusion and worry flooding his mind.

"Y/N! Y/N, baby, wake up!" He shouted, desperate, as he knelt beside her, pushing the pink gaming chair away.

With shaking hands, he checked her breathing and pulse, relieved to find that she was still breathing. Carefully, Chris turned her onto her side, briefly remembering when Nick told him that this was the correct procedure to do when a person suddenly passed out. His wide blue eyes ran frantically over her body as he silently counted the seconds in his mind.

Relief flooded him as he saw Y/N begin to regain consciousness, her eyes blinking slowly as she tried to understand where she was.

"Chris? What... what happened?" She murmured, her voice weak and her brow furrowed in confusion, her right hand rising from its limp position and reaching towards her head, pressing against the side, a pained expression spreading across her face.

Chris ignored her question momentarily, lowering himself to her level and pulling her into a hug tightly, sighing deeply as he repeated in his mind that she was there, alive and fine.

"You passed out, sweetheart. I heard the noise and... Oh God, Y/N, I thought you had..." The tears - which the boy barely noticed coming into his eyes - began to flow freely down his cheeks, his heart aching at the thought of the possibility of losing her.

His thoughts self-sabotaged him, making him feel guilty, he felt that he should have realized sooner - despite all the countless attempts to try to bring her out of her bubble, that he should have done something to prevent her from getting to that extreme point.

Y/N slowly sat up with the support of Chris's hands after he backed away, still feeling weak and bewildered.

Upon hearing her boyfriend's words, she felt her own eyes fill with tears, the accumulated emotions overflowing into a torrent of anguish and despair.

"I'm sorry, babe. Fuck- I'm so sorry. I... I can't do this anymore, Chris." A sob escaped her throat roughly, her voice choked with crying. "I'm destroying myself because of my own expectations. I... I don't know what to do anymore." She whispered, lowering her gaze to the ground, trapping her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt to stop the ugly sounds that wanted to escape in an avalanche. "Oh my God, I hurt you."

Chris held her gently, pulling her to lay her head on his shoulder, cradling her in his arms like a baby while they were still on the floor, unburdening herself of all her worries and fears. He listened intently to her ranting, his heart clenched by the pain Y/N was facing alone.

“Hey, hey, baby, don't do this to yourself. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.” Chris murmured, gently kissing the top of her head. "I'm here, always have been and always will be. I promise we'll get through this, love."

"I'm so sorry, Chris." The girl murmured, lifting her gaze from the ground and focusing on the brunette's orbs, wondering how he still allowed himself to love and help her so much, even after causing him such worries and fear.

Chris shook his head, silently reassuring her that everything was fine. He pulled his girl's pink chair towards them, slowly lifting himself so as not to hurt her and sitting on the plush seat, before guiding Y/N onto his lap, sitting her sideways on his thighs and laying her face on his shoulder, his mind working hard to come up with an idea to help Y/N find a healthy balance between her academic aspirations and her personal well-being.

"Why don't we establish a more realistic study plan, hm? With time to rest and all the self-care that will be good for you, I'll help you." The brunette whispered, looking down anxiously, hoping she could understand his point. "We can also seek professional help, a therapist, who will help you deal with your emotions and anxieties. If you want, I can participate in all the sessions with you."

Y/N looked at Chris with gratitude in her teary eyes. She knew it wouldn't be an easy journey, but with Chris's loving support by her side, she felt a spark of hope light up in her heart.

"Would you do that for me?" Her voice came out in a broken whisper, her heart warming at his sweet words.

"I'll be right by your side, my love. Always." Chris responded without blinking.

He lowered his head, sealing the top of Y/N's hair for long seconds, stroking the area with his nose lightly. His hands wrapped tightly around her body, keeping her secure in his lap and against his own body, before beginning to draw invisible circles with his fingers against her covered back.

"Sleep, sweet girl. I'll be here when you wake up. Everything will be alright."

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[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I'm very normal about Idia, guys. Being his friend would be great, I just know. Yet he is an interesting character to me so at the same time he'd want you to spend all the time by his side, he also idolizes a version of you, smth smth I love him, enjoy this <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, control and manipulation tendencies, guilt tripping, gn!reader

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia becomes intensely possessive when he first make friends with you, something he’s not used to. His loyalty runs deep and he expects the same in return, often feeling jealous and anxious if you spends time with "the normies", as he likes to call them. He tries to monopolize your attention by filling your days with online games, late-night chats and gossip sessions and anime marathons, making it difficult for you to spend time with anyone else. He even try your blogs if it is something he can do inside his or your room.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Sometimes he beg you to spend the day in his room, studying online as he does, when he is dealing with a particularly bad day - which are slowly turning into a daily thing.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ While Idia doesn’t confront people directly, he’s skilled at subtly manipulating you. If you mention hanging out with someone else, he’ll sulk or act overly dramatic, making you feel guilty for not spending time with him. He wants youto believe you’re the only one, besides Ortho and his family, who truly understands him, ensuring that you stay close. His tech expertise also gives him an advantage over you as he keeps tabs on your online activity, always aware of who you’re talking to or what you’re doing when you are away from him. And if you tell about how suffocating is to be with someone like him or something like that, Idia will make little changes in himself so you won't be bothered by how he acts.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ To further isolate you, Idia draws you deeper into his world, introducing rare games and niche interests that only he can share with you. If you try to make plans outside your usual routine, he’ll always have something special, a one time offer that you simply can't resist. Deep down, his tendencies come from a deep fear of rejection. He’s terrified of being abandoned and he believes the only way to secure your friendship is to make you depend on him as much as he depends on you. He wants to be your hero, strong, fierce, yet he turns into your villain, your tormentor.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ As the friendship deepens, Idia’s clinginess becomes more apparent, though he tries to hide it behind his usual awkwardness. He starts to get anxious whenever you doesn’t respond immediately to messages, bombarding you with worried texts or even calling, something he normally hates doing. When you finally reply, he plays it off but the relief he feels is palpable. He needs that constant reassurance that you’re still there, still close to him, that you still like him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia’s jealousy, though subtle, can become intense. If he notices you are growing closer to someone else, he starts planting doubts in your mind, making snide comments or pointing out flaws in the new person’s behavior. His aim is always to make sure you realizes that no one will ever be as loyal or understanding as he is. He never wants to be obvious about it but his bitterness leaks out in small doses, enough to make his friend second-guess their other relationships.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When things don’t go as planned, Idia retreats into self-pity, making you feel responsible for his mood. He might withdraw entirely, going quiet for days at a time, only to return with cryptic messages about feeling “left behind” or how much he hates being alone. This emotional tug-of-war keeps you constantly on edge, never wanting to hurt him or push him away, which only feeds into Idia’s control over you. Wether you realize what he does or not, Idia will always find a way to have control over you, no matter what.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Despite his fear of being too obvious, there are times when Idia’s obsession shows more openly. He might create custom in-game avatars of you, carefully crafting you to reflect his idealized version of a romantic relationship. He’ll obsessively collect items or trinkets that remind him of you, even going so far as to create private spaces in games or online where it’s just the two of them, away from anyone else or have an AI of your voice saying sweet little nothings to him, or singing. This, though, he'll never let you know. He doesn't want for you to think he is a weirdo, he just really love you, his bestie.

[hungrywriter]

Herbs & Hearts (pt.1)

Raiden x f!reader

Raiden and Kung Lao entered Madam Bo's restaurant, instantly greeted by a delightful medley of sweet and savoury smells emanating from the kitchen where Madam Bo worked her culinary magic. They were welcomed by the owner herself, who guided them to their usual table, the spot where they often hung out.

As usual, they playfully argued over who would be picking up the tab for their meal. After this spirited exchange, they stood up in an open area to engage in a friendly martial arts match. Their battle was intense, but in the end, Kung Lao emerged as the winner. His celebration, however, led to an accident when he bumped into a waiter carrying a bowl of noodles, causing the food to go airborne.

The whole restaurant fell silent, anticipating a mess, but from the kitchen, a figure swiftly emerged, wearing a farmer's hat and the familiar restaurant's apron. With incredible dexterity, this person skillfully caught the flying food and restored it to the tray, as if the accident never occurred. The customers, initially holding their breath, broke into applause. The restaurant quickly returned to its usual bustling activity, with the incident soon forgotten.

Raiden and Kung Lao couldn't contain their curiosity and approached the mysterious saviour. When the figure looked up, they immediately recognized her as Y/n, their childhood friend. Y/n was the adopted daughter of Madam Bo, the chef of the restaurant. Madam Bo had found Y/n as a baby, abandoned at her doorstep with nothing but a tattered cloth to protect her frail body. There were stories circulating that suggested divine intervention, as some believed that gods had descended from the heavens to save her. These tales led some superstitious parents in the neighbourhood to warn their children to be cautious around Y/n, fearing that they might inadvertently offend these mysterious deities and bring about a curse.

However, it was only Raiden who immediately welcomed Y/n as a friend. Kung Lao, on the other hand, needed some convincing, but as the years passed, he too grew to love Y/n, not only as a friend but also for her exceptional fighting skills. The trio grew up together and trained martial arts under Madam Bo, forging a strong and enduring bond.

Y/n smiled at them and continued serving customers. The two friends couldn't contain their joy and embraced Y/n. The boys were aware of Y/n's deep passion for plants and her fascination with studying various herbs. She was often found in her room, conducting experiments and nurturing her own herbs. This love for botanical pursuits led her to embark on journeys in search of herbs that she insisted couldn't be found in the village.

Initially, the boys expressed concern and offered to accompany her on these trips, but Y/n politely declined their assistance. Madam Bo, too, advised them not to accompany Y/n, encouraging her independence. In order to avoid upsetting the wise elder woman, the boys eventually accepted and let Y/n pursue her herb-hunting adventures on her own.

"Y/n, when did you come back? We've missed you!" Kung Lao said, affectionately pinching her cheeks. The female laughed at his actions and put her hands over his to get him away from her cheeks. 

"I got back this morning. Mother told me to rest, but you know I can't just sit still for too long," Y/n replied as she picked up a tray of food from the kitchen and resumed serving the customers, with the boys trailing behind her. As she went about her tasks, Raiden couldn't help but notice the bandage on her left foot and her slight limp when she walked.

"What happened to your foot?" he inquired. Setting the food on a table, Y/n turned to face them, a touch perplexed at first, but then realising what he was referring to.

"Oh, I just ran into a bit of trouble during my journey," she nonchalantly shrugged. However, seeing their worried expressions, she swiftly reassured them that she had managed the situation. Kung Lao offered a hearty chuckle and cheered for her, while Raiden could only shake his head, sighing in concern.

Y/n felt a slight disappointment in his reaction, but her spirits lifted when he smiled at her. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close to his chest.

"Well, as long as you come back in one piece, love petal," he whispered, kissing her head. Y/n returned the hug and turned her head away to hide the growing blush on her face. Kung Lao let out an exaggerated scoff and rolled his eyes before heading back to their table. The duo then parted ways and joined each other at their table, ready to relish their meal and dive into a conversation about Y/n's recent adventures.

[karuvapatta]

A ficlet featuring Elias and time travel shenanigans. Enjoy!

***

True to form, the Crawling Rot crept across the Archives slowly, insidiously. By the time it made its presence known it was already deep inside the walls, burrowing its way into brick and mortar and stone, carving a home for itself, consuming and inevitable. It couldn’t be stopped, it couldn’t be fought, spreading and multiplying, a dozen new manifestations even as one was slain…

Elias felt the constant itch beneath his skin. It took considerable willpower to ignore, in fact. Normally he thrived on passivity and inaction, but now it became a delicate balancing act, between letting it run wild and trying to contain that which could not be contained…

But there was something new. A low buzz in the fabric of his Archives. He borrowed the eyes of one of the Assistants, but could not make sense of what he saw in this manner. Something - someone - was actively obscuring his vision. The Distortion? It seemed like a game it might like to play. Better make sure. Better safe than sorry.

He went down into the Archives and knocked on the door. Sasha and Tim were huddled on the other side, caught in frantic whispers, their bewilderment fresh and obvious in the air. Has Prentiss struck early? No, he was quite certain he would have felt it.

“Is everything all right?” He asked.

“Oh—Elias? Is that you?” Sasha replied.

“I believe so,” Elias said drily, and pushed the door open.

They weren’t injured in any obvious way. Elias scanned them thoroughly just in case, trying to determine the cause of this commotion.

“Is Jon around?” he asked, unnecessarily; he would have known if his Archivist had left his domain.

“Yeah, he’s taking a statement,” Tim said.

“Live statement?” Elias said.

That—no, that didn’t sound right. He hadn’t—he kept careful tabs on those touched by the Powers who might find their way here, and he hadn’t expected any one of them to show up today. And even if he should have missed it, Rosie would let him know. She had never failed him yet.

There was a familiar prickling sensation at the back of his neck; the crushing weight of his Patron’s gaze, as familiar as it was terrifying. Something went wrong, Elias knew with sudden clarity; something was terribly, horribly wrong—

“Excuse me,” he said, pushing past the Assistants, heading straight for the Head Archivist’s office. He hadn’t—he hadn’t quite meant to move, but still his legs carried him onwards, as if following a path laid out in front of them, a few short steps before the edge of a cliff, and a drop into the endless oblivion.

Jon was at his desk, alive; he didn’t look up at Elias, he didn’t move, unable to tear his gaze away from the man in front of him. Fear paralyzed him, froze the blood in his veins and took the air from his lungs; it was too much, too soon, his fragile heart couldn’t cope with it yet, but his eyes were open, wide open, swallowed by the pupils. And—

“Who are you?” Elias asked, momentarily blinded by fury.

The statement-giver was sitting down with his back to the door; Elias could see greying hair pulled into a messy bun, and a hand on the desk, balling into a fist, brown skin dotted with scars.

“We aren’t done,” said the stranger, strange harmonics overlapping the familiar voice. “Continue.”

Jon trembled in his seat; his heart was beating dangerously fast, its rhythm growing erratic, its vessels incapable of feeding it for much longer. He could feel the web of them growing strained, threatening to break at any moment—

“I don’t—I don’t remember—“ Jon stammered. “I don’t remember his name. I don’t—“

The stranger sighed.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he said. “Statement ends.”

Jon collapsed, heaving for breath and clutching at his chest; it felt like a heart attack but it wasn’t one, not truly. He would recover shortly, even if he didn’t believe it right now. The man was always so dramatic.

“What have you done to my Archivist?” Elias demanded.

The stranger laughed - a short, dry laugh, with very little humor to it. And that, too, was uncannily familiar. Some aspect of the Stranger, then? It would explain why Elias’ vision remained clouded.

“You know,” he began, then paused; everywhere around them, there was a buzz of static, tape recorders listening in with ravenous hunger. Elias felt a similar pull, gnawing at his own mind, begging to be filled.

But the man shook his head, then, and said, “No. I have nothing to say to you.”

“What—who are you?” Jon cut in, sharp and abrasive as ever.

Instead of answering, the stranger rose to his feet, and turned around.

The eyes looking back at him were unblinking, open wide, swallowed by the hungry maw of pupils; and Elias had felt the Beholding’s presence in the past, had trembled under the weight of Its attention, but never before had he experienced the sensation of standing face to face with It. He never considered himself a religious man but it did feel like seeing his God made flesh—all-seeing, all-knowing, power and terror and—

No. It couldn’t be. He’d know if the Ritual succeeded. The man in front of him couldn’t be what he seemed; there had to be another explanation. And now that he got over the initial shock, Elias noticed other features - this stranger and Jon looked remarkably alike…

And then the man punched him in the face.

Elias staggered backwards, reflexively raising his hand to the sharp pain in his cheek.

“Jesus Christ, what—“ Jon said, while the stranger aimed another blow.

Elias was ready this time. He moved at the last moment; his assailant hit the door instead and toppled forward, spitting foul curses in Jon’s voice.

“Come back here,” he snarled.

His knuckles were bloodied, possibly broken. Still he came back up, throwing himself at Elias; his movements were reckless, fueled by pure rage and all-consuming hatred. Elias managed to block him, grab one of the arms; he tried looking, pulling anything useful out of the eyes in front of him, flood the mind with terror and pain, but there was nothing to latch onto—or, rather, there was too much of it all at once, like trying to catch a single raindrop in a torrential downpour.

He landed heavily on the Archivist’s desk, all air knocked out of his lungs. A glint of metal in the corner of his eyes; he panicked, throwing his arms up, anything. Sharp pain laced up his arm, where the blade must have pierced skin. But he managed to grab a hold on the other man’s wrists, hold, hold on while the tip of the knife inched closer and closer to his face, hairbreadth above his right eye—

The knife disappeared, as did the weight on his chest. His assailant had been wrenched backwards, probably by one of the archival assistants. Elias breathed out, holding back an undignified whimper, and covered his face with his hands. His eye. His eyes. No, they were still where they should be, it was all right. They were all right. They hadn’t been injured.

“Are you hurt?” Jon asked from somewhere above him. Elias flinched, but it was his Jon speaking. There was no reason to fear him.

“No,” he said coolly.

“A little help here?” Tim shouted.

The commotion was still going on. Tim and Martin were wrestling with the stranger, trying to get him to drop the knife. But clearly whatever madness had been driving the man up until now had ran its course. He seemed to shrink in on himself, backing away from the two of them with wide, terrified eyes, the knife clutched protectively to his chest.

“Drop the knife, mate,” Tim said. He and Martin towered over the—over Jon. The man was Jon, or a being made to look like him. Older by about a decade, face weathered, hair almost entirely grey; dressed with none of Jon’s usual desperate insecurity, in loose jeans and a sweater several sizes too large on him. But the resemblance was unmistakable.

“No,” Not-Jon said; his grip on the knife turned white. “But it’s all right. I’m—I’m putting it away now.”

He sheathed the blade under their apprehensive gaze, hiding it beneath the large sweater. Then he raised his empty, horribly scarred hands. “There. See?”

“I’m calling the police,” Sasha said flatly, the phone already pressed to her ear.

Not-Jon’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “No, you are not.”

“Why not?”

“Because you want to question me yourself,” not!Jon said. “And I think—I think everyone will be better off if I just leave.” He huffed a short, bitter laugh; his shoulders trembled, and he backed away another step, to lean against the wall and bury his face in his hands. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled, voice muffled and strained with—pain? Guilt? “I really am very sorry about that…”

“You can’t just leave,” Jon said sharply. “You tried to kill Elias, we won’t just let you go—“

“I think it’s a very good reason to let me go, actually” not!Jon said. “I’m still armed, after all.”

“Who, um—who are you?” Martin asked timidly.

Not!Jon froze. He kept his face covered still, maybe in a futile attempt to hide his identity.

“You look—you look just like Jon.”

“No, he does not,” Jon said in his snottiest, most abrasive tone of voice. “What on earth are you talking about, Martin?”

Martin deflated. Not!Jon lowered his hands and stared at his other self.

“Good lord, you are such a prick,” he said slowly. “I never realized…”

“Oh, so you’ve met before?” Tim asked, smirking.

Elias finally got his breathing under control and managed to get back on his feet. There was a shallow cut on his forearm, a smear of blood on his shirt; no doubt his hair looked a horrible mess. He righted the tie, his vest and shirt, smoothing down any creases, and then calmly wiped off the blood with a handkerchief.

Not!Jon was glaring at him, with a very Jon-like expression. Their eyes met; Elias caught flashes of the man’s hostility, vague impressions and images —Gertrude’s bullet-ridden corpse, the tunnels—

“I think I should leave now,” not!Jon said. “Wouldn’t you agree? Elias?”

Terror crept down Elias’ spine. Not!Jon knew him; knew him in a deep, visceral way, all his secrets, lies, weaknesses… all his fears…

“Yes,” he said. “I think that would be for the best.”

[stil-lindigo]

hello lindi! i've been following you since you were starting out pulse, and it's been an honour to see you grow both as an artist and as a person⏤the way you approach sociopolitical issues with strength and optimism is simply incredible, and it teaches me a lot about my relationship with activism as well.

in that vein, i wanted to ask a question. on twitter, i've seen people asking others to completely cut down on posting personal art or about special interests and focus 100% on talking about palestine for the whole week. while i am doing it the best i can, i have some reservations and doubts about this approach of striking, especially since it's not a sentiment i'm seeing on any other social media platform or even on different twitter communities.

i just wanted to get your opinion on this⏤do you think it's effective or necessary? i fear i may be being too pessimistic about it, which is the last thing i want to do.

thank you always, i hope these asks aren't wearing on you.

hello anon :) It inspires a lot of awe in me that you're still here after four (five?) years - i'm extremely honoured and humbled to have earned your patronage for so long.

for the twitter/social media strike, I have the stance where I don't think the message for palestine is dampened by people still posting about their special interests, mainly for a few reasons.

While it would have been incredibly powerful to have a general posting blackout besides pro-palestine messages, it was never going to realistically happen. There are people who aren't online who won't learn about the strike until it's too late, people who maintain a main and an alt and only post fandom stuff on the alt (which is private or has 12 followers so who cares, they'll post their genshin husbands), people who just prioritise their escapism over anything else. I can't hold it against them too, because trying to impose a "you can ONLY post about palestine" decree (even for just a week) will breed resentment in droves, which i think would make the movement lose steam incredibly fast. For most people, social media is escapism. It's a privilege afforded to those who can turn off their phone, or close a tab and leave all the horrors behind. But at the end of the day, we all do it, and to some extent I think that balance is necessary so that you stay sane. Activism is a lifestyle, not a brief stint, where balance has to be maintained to make sure you can do as much as you can for as long as you can.

You kind of have to realise that nobody can reach through a screen and police someone's social media use or thoughts. I've been observing the general rules of the strike, but to be fair I'm in the boat where that's not very different to how I've been posting for the past few months anyway, so it's no big sacrifice on my part. There are people out there on social media right now who deserve shame for their "escapism". The type to proudly boast about muting words like "palestine", "israel", "genocide" - they're callous, and cruel, and lonely souls searching for a brief high in attention and outrage. But I am seeing people on my feed observe the strike, I am seeing more resources about Palestine, I am seeing dipshits get shamed. The strike's goal to push Palestine resources to the forefront of the feed, to get it trending, has (so far) been working.

So...this was longwinded but - tldr; we were always gonna have people who prioritised their fandom over a genocide so you can't really be too disappointed by it (well, you can, but I'm not since it's just a "*shrug* that's how most people are"-type situation) but there are people who are observing the strike halfway and people who are doing it all the way and they're lifting us all up, so the strike's call to action did work and is currently doing what it's supposed to.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Stronger together

---

<<Part 1

Part 2 to 'Don't make me choose'

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x reader

Word count: 800

Tags: @itzmeme @miatjie @juneonhoth

---

You slumped against a broken metal shelter on some roof. The world glowing around you with a goulish green hue as faint sirens haunted the far distance. Earth-42 wasn’t paradise, it was the opposite, without a guardian in this realm, crime was raging and rampant.

But this was where you tracked Miles to last before the little red dot that kept tab on him faded. Now you were stranded, not sure of how any of this could help in preventing what was to come. Instead you were hungry, tired, soaked wet by the rain and there was no other alternative to survive here. The battle within your mind was that, you only knew one number by heart.

Tapping the device in your hands as you thought through the outcome, you took the jump, to make the call and waited as it beeped searching for a connection. You prepared your mind in that moment, for the possibility that he wasn’t going to pick up or that he would deem you deserved this to confidently abandon you here as a form of punishment.

Two beeps in, the line was active, his voice cracking through as he called your name repeatedly, his tone soaked with worry.

“Can you hear me?”, the line stabilized and you held the device close to you, as though it was an extension of him.

“Are you al-alright?”, the connection was a bit sketchy as he asked you but before you could respond,

“Yes.”, you said desperately.

“Are you hurt?”, he bombarded you with questions, without waiting to hear your reply and it only made it more clearer that he had been trying to search for you without a clue as to where you had vanished. In the state you were in, it cut loose within you everything you had held back, when you were out here thinking of the worst, he was there desperate to get you back.

“Where are you?”, he continued.

“I’m sorry.”, was all that you could utter before you broke down into sobs.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I was foolish.”, you rambled only to hear silence from the other end.

“Hey.”, he interrupted you, his voice tender and soft.

“I was at fault too.”, he sighed.

“I lost sight of us and our pledge to carry the responsibility of being a hero, succumbing to the fear of the past “, he explained, not a hint of anger in his voice.

“Where are you?”, he asked again.

“I’ll come get you.”, he said it with a sweetness that you realized when you were longing to get back home, you were just wanting to get back to him.

“Earth-42.”, you answered and there was a pique in interest as he mumbled.

“Earth-42? How did you track him there?”, he asked, you could practically hear the gears turn in his head as he tried to connect everything together.

“The transporter maps us to our universe based on our spider bite.”, you began to explain but he jumped in following your train of thought.

“and he was bit by an anomaly which in turns masks his genetic makeup when scanned.”, he finished your sentence and you couldn’t help but smile. He understood the way you worked and that could not be replaced with anyone else.

“Clever as always.”, he remarked but you could sense the smile with which he said it.

“My power is running down and I don’t know how long I can stay put here, this world is –

The whizz of the dimension portal startled you as it opened near where you were and in the pouring rain your heart skipped a beat as you saw his silhouette step out, his head moving from side to side as he scouted for you.

He called for you and you didn’t wait, springing up from where you hid to run to him.

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight that he huffed bracing your impact. But the moment he felt your warmth, he held you close, placing his cheek on the top of your head, not worried about the rain or anything else.

“Te extrañé.”, he spoke into your ear.

“You're not angry with me?”, you mumbled into his chest to hear the soft reverb of his laugh.

“We’ve got to help him, Miguel.”, you said slowly and he nodded taking in the state of the world around, he brushed away the strands of hair that stuck to your face. He was making it clear now, that you ranked higher than those worries.

“I can’t stay mad at you for long.”, he tilted your chin up to see him and when your eyes locked, you knew that wherever you stood, with him, it was paradise. Even on earth-42.

“We’ll figure it out together.”, he gave you a knowing smile.

“Like we always do.”, he held your gaze, as if that was the core rule his universe operated on.

You were certain you would find a way to save Miles’s father, because when you and Miguel stood together, nothing could stand in your way.

“Now let’s go home.”, his hand slipped to yours and you wrapped your fingers around his.

[skaruresonic]

I also forgot that one of the very first things we saw Flynnified Lanolin do was express her gratitude to Sonic. I think the idea was that he had inspired her to actually take action... but her approach is far more proactive than Sonic, who simply reacts to Eggman's wrongdoings.

If contained, this isn't a bad idea for a conflict. It fits with the general idea that she's high-strung and inexperienced, and doesn't want anyone to suffer like she did, while Sonic has been in the game (lol) for far longer and he's more relaxed.

But Lanolin has degenerated so much that it looks like she has legit spiralled into a breakdown. Now she is so rigid that she has become abusive, creating a climate of fear and control with her own companions - she has gaslighted Whisper in the real sense of the word! Her empathy for newbies makes her blind to Duo's obvious lies, while she holds veterans like Silver to such a high standard that any perceived failure deserves a verbal lashing out - but without the willingness to listen, to accept that maybe her assumptions were wrong, because she doesn't want to show any sign of vulnerability. And it feels like she holds so much resentment in her heart that she snaps at anyone vaguely irritating her, from Tangle playing to Sonic not moving out of the road fast enough (who cares about the possibility of them being hurt? Certainly not her! Everything has to flow smoothly and wounded people are simply a hindrance!)

And now we have ABT giving us a Lanolin who has been consumed so much by her own bitterness that she has gone from seeing Sonic as a hero to an irresponsible force of nature who simply doesn't care enough about anything. A danger. Something she cannot hold on a leash. Something to fear and look with suspicion. (and may have attempted to attack him, ABT's sketches are very confusing)

I would almost be impressed by this tragic villain arc, if I wasn't sure nothing I said is intentional.

I think the idea was that he had inspired her to actually take action... but her approach is far more proactive than Sonic, who simply reacts to Eggman's wrongdoings.

You know, I kind of think maybe we're even shortchanging Sonic by calling him "reactive." I know what you mean, but most people tend to exaggerate the whole "Sonic isn't proactive" thing to mean "Sonic isn't a perfect hero because he isn't surveilling Eggman 24/7."

We've seen this before with Flynn's "Eggman stormed Prison Island without knowing what Project Shadow was" argument. As if Eggman needs to be psychic and know what a classified top-secret military experiment is before he breaches the place and finds out for himself.

While it's true that Sonic doesn't take preemptive measures against Eggman, he also can't be expected to keep tabs on the guy all the time. (How ironic, then, that the one time he promises to check up on Tinker in issue 6, he actively neglects his duty.)

He does what he can with the knowledge he possesses. It's not like he can magically intuit that Eggman's going to go steal Ancient Document #3,487 and wake up another beast.

Plus, it doesn't mesh well with his freespirited nature. Superheroes are morally burdened by their self-imposed duties and obligations. Sonic just has awesome adventures because why not.

---

If contained, this isn't a bad idea for a conflict. It fits with the general idea that she's high-strung and inexperienced, and doesn't want anyone to suffer like she did, while Sonic has been in the game (lol) for far longer and he's more relaxed.

Not sure I agree. We've seen the "no one should suffer the way I have" thing from Shadow and the whole high-strung schtick from Blaze.

I don't really see what else Lanolin is bringing to the table other than that she's a normie. And frankly, her personality is too underwhelming to rely on relatability. We don't even know if the girl has any hobbies aside from ordering people around.

---

But Lanolin has degenerated so much that it looks like she has legit spiralled into a breakdown. Now she is so rigid that she has become abusive, creating a climate of fear and control with her own companions - she has gaslighted Whisper in the real sense of the word!

Nah man, she's peak because she's nasty and unpleasant. Let stronk women be bitches. Something something.

Kind of raises the brow how quick she is to resort to violence when she feels "threatened" by Whisper. You'd think she'd be more of a flighter instead of a fighter.

---

Her empathy for newbies makes her blind to Duo's obvious lies, while she holds veterans like Silver to such a high standard that any perceived failure deserves a verbal lashing out - but without the willingness to listen, to accept that maybe her assumptions were wrong, because she doesn't want to show any sign of vulnerability. And it feels like she holds so much resentment in her heart that she snaps at anyone vaguely irritating her, from Tangle playing to Sonic not moving out of the road fast enough (who cares about the possibility of them being hurt? Certainly not her! Everything has to flow smoothly and wounded people are simply a hindrance!)

Yep.

Control freak.

---

And now we have ABT giving us a Lanolin who has been consumed so much by her own bitterness that she has gone from seeing Sonic as a hero to an irresponsible force of nature who simply doesn't care enough about anything.

Which is dehumanizing towards Sonic, as well as belittling. Sonic does care. He demonstrates his care through his actions and the kindness he gives people.

Also, didn't Archie characterize Sonic as a living force of chaos? Hmm.

---

A danger.

Ironic, considering he bothered to save people from the mess she made.

---

Something she cannot hold on a leash.

The Sally Sheeples arguments are starting to look more and more convincing by the minute.

---

Something to fear and look with suspicion.

Again, though, why? She thanked him for saving her town in issue 57. Now all of a sudden she's afraid of Sonic?

And if that's the case, why is she sticking around? Why can't she do the sensible thing and ask Jewel to relocate her to go work somewhere else where she won't have to be around people she perceives as ticking time bombs? If she views Sonic and co. as a threat, then why doesn't SHE take any measures to protect herself? Clearly she can't feel that unsafe around them, otherwise she wouldn't even think to scold them.

That's the frustrating thing about Lanolin. She's supposed to be this no-nonsense drill sergeant, yet continuously expects the world to bend to her expectations rather than assume any agency herself. God forbid our stronk women make decisions! Heavens no.

The only logical explanation is that Lanolin is such a huge fucking control freak that even Sonic the Hedgehog must abide by her strict standards, his previous heroism be damned.

---

(and may have attempted to attack him, ABT's sketches are very confusing)

She reached into her cowbell to withdraw her Wisp. Doing that crossed the threshold from mere fantasy to premeditation, imo. It's one thing to fantasize about someone you hate dying - quite another to essentially reach for a knife hidden in your pocket while their back is turned.

[new-revenant]

I was reading on of your posts and I LOVE the idea of different Fenton families believe in different supernatural creatures but not others, like the guys we see in the show have ghosts but what about Fentons who live in the middle of the woods and believe in werewolves? What about Fentons who live on a boat and believe in Sirens?

What are the cultures of these other Supernaturals really like? Do they get along well with ghosts? Does Danny know they exist? Who told him or did he stumble upon them himself? What is his option on them?

IS WULF A DEAD WEREWOLF????

If you reply to this please tag me so I can see your ideas because I don’t know if people answering to your asks gives a notification.

thank you for loving my idea, I’ve been thinking about it for so long. I think I saw the idea somewhere and picked it up, but that was honestly years again haha. And yeah, getting asks answered-for me at least-doesn’t notify me unless I literally click on the Activity tab to see that’s it’s answered. Pretty weird.

So @lazerswordweilder, yeah, I do think that there would be different Fenton branches believing in different supernatural creatures, with their own reasoning as to why they think their own supernatural creatures exist. I’d like to think that some take the more scientific approach, like the branch that believes in aliens(and the Fentons we know and love), while others take the more “I believe that this real so it must be so” approach. The later is more rare, and even then they usually have their own explanations for why they believe, let’s say, sirens exist. They all are stubborn and steadfast with their beliefs.

Some Fentons might be open to believing in other supernatural creatures, like those believing in werewolves open to believing in other were-beasts. If it’s not too far fetched from what they originally believe in, there’s a good chance that they might incorporate it into their belief system.

Other Fentons, however, would likely not believe in ghosts if they believe in something like sirens. It’s too far removed from their original belief that unless they get real, concrete proof, that they couldn’t ever possibly deny, they won’t believe it. Only a siren’s ghost could make a siren believer believe in ghosts. And that doesn’t mean that the ghost believer would believe in sirens, because of their preexisting view on ghosts(like how the Fentons we know don’t really seem to think of ghosts as dead people), they would just think that it’s a ghost that just so happens to look like one of those sirens.

Also Wulf being a werewolf when alive is neat, I can see two different Fenton family arguing about him. With his power to open portals and his general, not really all that ghostly appearance, he looks more like a psychopomp, a being that guides souls to the underworld. So even if the werewolf believing Fentons have some belief in ghosts, they wouldn’t immediately think of Wulf as one, just think of his as this soul-guiding werewolf.

And I think almost any creature can become a ghost. No one has any real…prejudices against ghosts. Maybe annoyment or fear, but there are no wars or battles against ghosts unless they are the ones to start them, which is really rare since most ghosts just haunt the person/family/even small village they want to and pass on. Hatred towards ghosts is usually specific, but most people don’t really want to deal with them.

So, upon seeing Danny, a small ghost child who walking around in a hazmat suit, beating up annoying and dangerous ghosts, they would probably respect him. And pity him, he’s a child after all. And ghost minds typically don’t mature, so even if Danny acts more mature than he looks, it just garners more pity. Some supernatural creatures may seek him out if they have a nasty ghost problem, but I’d like to think that most ghosts aren’t like the ones in Amity Park, the really dangerous ones.

I think that’s all I have for now, thanks for the ask! Oh, and I think Danny would love aliens, obviously. He’d be nervous around other supernatural creatures, but may or may not warm up to them on an individual basis.

[ryukenzz]

Fear's Favorite Test Subject

♱☠︎.𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: Headcanons of the Fear and his most prized possession. These headcanons will be about As Nodt as a yandere mad scientist with a female reader in mind.

♱☠︎.𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: There will be content that'll include human experimentation, yandere themes, manipulation, gore (subtle flesh picking, needles, drugs, etc.), As Nodt being a warning himself, mad scientist themes. If any of these topics are triggering for you, I would suggest not reading this for your own comfort. If I missed any other warnings, please don't hesitate to let me know!

♱☠︎.𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.3k

♱☠︎.𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: This is for @nagumoan's Dance with the Dead collab. This is also my first time writing yandere, so I hope this is good jdskf. I gave As Nodt a backstory of him as a neurologist that went into being a neuroscientist. I tried my best with the research I did for these careers, so I apologize if I got any facts wrong 😭.

The Neurologist and His Patient

As Nodt. Oh boy. The very embodiment of fear itself. This quiet man would be formidable as a mad scientist. He is no Mayuri or Szayel, but he is a madman in his own right. His knowledge on the nervous system and negative human emotion makes him one of the worst, if not THE worst mad scientist to come across. And when you add “yandere” to that status? It’s essentially game over for anyone who intrigues him.

A long time ago, As Nodt was a renowned neurologist. He barely spoke to anyone, always preferring to keep to himself and just do the job. To him, the idle chit chat was distracting and unnecessary while attending to his patients. He was a firm believer of interruptions being a hindrance to his work. He barely even spoke to his own colleagues. It all became a daily routine, over and over. Every day was silent. Every single hour became dull. That is until he made an unintentional discovery while looking over a recording of a patient's video EEG test session. Your EEG test session.

His dark eyes were trained on the recording, reviewing your results. The tapping of his pen against his clipboard matched the tempo of the machine in the video. His interest was intrigued by the amount of activity your brain displayed. Your reactions to the variety of clips being shown was brilliant. But, what really had his sights set on you was your fearful reactions. The way your beautiful face contorted whenever a killing scene appeared sparked an unfamiliar feeling. It didn’t sit right with him, but… it piqued his twisted curiosity. How much fear can the brain take before it breaks? How long does it last? He wanted to explore the possibilities. He needed to find the answers. And these thoughts began to chip away at As Nodt’s curiosity… all until it descended into something twisted and deranged.

It seems that dual graduate program will be useful to him, after all.

From that day on, As Nodt began to keep tabs on you. Your appointments, the days and times where you came and picked up your medicine, all of it. He even made arrangements to make sure that you went to him and him only. You didn’t think much of it at first, believing that he favored certain patients over others. As didn’t say a word to you in the beginning, his only responses alternated between blank stares and curt words that lasted two seconds at most. Even with his custom doctor’s mask and lack of eyebrows, his demeanor did the talking for him.

But eventually, he began to make small conversation with you. His words were still short, but definitely way more than what his coworkers received. The sudden change didn't make much sense. As Nodt, the most nonsocial person on Earth, showing interest in something other than his job? Impossible.  You figured that was just his personality … but little old you failed to realize that your new friend lover was leading you on a gurney straight to Hell.

As the months went by, As Nodt stopped showing up to work. You didn’t even realize he was gone until you came in one day and another neurologist handled your appointment. You assumed he was on vacation, so you didn’t worry too much. You went home that day and did your daily routine, watching a cheesy reality show with a snack. It was only a shame that you didn’t catch the small camera that was placed within the console below the flat screen. Or the carnival teddy bear’s eyes that were now camera lenses. Every small corner in your home had been turned into a secret watch party for As to learn everything about you. From the clothes you wear down to the way your fingers moved when you held something of value. His dark eyes burned everything into memory. He couldn’t wait to see that look of fear in your eyes again.

The Fear and His Frankenstein

The day you were taken from your home was akin to a scene right out of a psychological horror. You came home from your errands as normal, but things just felt out of place. The feeling of being watched crawled all over you like flies on a piece of food. It was a mystery… up until a small flash on the TV console caught your eye. You thought it to be a reflection of light from outside, but they don't flicker like a heartbeat. The moment you got closer to it, As Nodt came from the shadows and used a chloroform cloth to make you pass out. It took five minutes for you to finally go unconscious. The neuroscientist’s face crinkled into a creepy expression as he carried you out bridal style.

When you woke up, you were met with grim lighting and advanced machinery. The room was filled with computer monitors, graduated cylinders with foreign chemicals, and multiple shelves of books. You were in a lab. Your eyes studied the room until they landed on As Nodt’s figure. You were filled with confused relief to see him, and went to ask where he had been, but he cut you off with a deep and eerie command.

“Experiments should keep their mouths closed until they are given permission to speak. And I did not grant you that, so I suggest shutting your mouth unless you want to end up like the failures in those tanks.”

Life after that first day was pure agony. Every single moment brought misery. It would make even the strongest people crumble. As Nodt would tell you it’s “for the sake of research and health” but you knew better. He was sick and obsessive, but what could you do? You had little to no power, so your insults and words meant nothing to him. They were as valuable as the dirt that clung to his shoes. Throw every single curse word at him if you want to. It won’t save you from what will come.

His experiments were tormenting and painful. Needles and brain-prodding machines chipped away your sense of self every day. There was no hour where you weren’t being picked at with a needle, or an MEG scanner being attached to your head. The flashing lights and constant clips of horror movies was nothing compared to the pain-inducing drugs that invaded your nervous system. Or the electric buzzing that made your senses numb. The daily experiments were already bad enough, but when it came to his punishments, he became a sadistic creature. Anything that would bring you pain, physically or mentally, As Nodt would turn it up ten notches. 

For every offense that you commit, this silent scientist will base the experiment on whatever it was you did. If you leave the house without permission, he’ll use a special medicine that renders the nerves of your hands useless for two weeks. He’ll feed you and all, but don’t see it as a token of appreciation. Now, if you mess with his other experiments… you’ll wish you’d be one of those brains in the tanks. As Nodt would strap you to a chair and use an MEG scanner and clips of him experimenting on the other “failures” to torment you for hours. In your best interest, and others, don’t underestimate his ruthlessness. If you desire to keep your body and consciousness intact, just keep quiet and be his good little test subject.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult? Because of your constant insolence, I’ve been forced to end the trials of two nearly successful subjects. Thanks to your little belief of escaping, they’ve paid the price. You’ll make up for that, won’t you?” 

♱☠︎.𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: I apologize for posting this three days after Halloween is over hfbdjf. But I hope you all enjoy these spooky headcanons for As Nodt!

©ryukenzz 2023. Do not copy, paste, steal, translate, or repost my work.

[ewingstan]

We sort of touched on it in a prior post, but you’ve gotten a fair few details on how Mark and Carol raised Victoria by this point.

From what details you recall, how does her handling/raising of Kenzie fall into compare and contrast with those details?

Wooh. Hm. Well, I think she has Kenzie's ultimate wellbeing in mind more than Carol probably did while raising her and Amy. At the same time, when Victoria's first reaction to Kenzie getting publicly pilloried was "lets get you in front of cameras to argue your case, and also while we're at it lets keep our cape-network plan from falling through by jumping on the public-Scion-reveal grenade" I thought well. Yeah that's something Carol's daughter would think to do huh.

Its a dangerous relationship they're in. Victoria legitimately wants to keep Kenzie safe and stop her from overworking herself. She also really wants this cape group thing to work. She'd probably not consciously let the latter get in the way of the former, but she will let Kenzie fight as a hero if it seems like that's what Kenzie wants. The problem, of course, is that Kenzie wants what Victoria wants. Kenzie will act in whatever way will make the people around her happy, and so if she thinks Victoria wants her to be a hero (which you don't exactly need to be an observation tinker to notice), she's gonna make being a hero her whole thing. Not to mention that Kenzie also knows Ashley wants her to be an active cape, Sveta enjoys being on a hero team, etc....

I'll also say that the way Victoria's treating Chris.... kind of reminds me of how Carol treated Amy growing up? Victoria sees him as her responsibility: he's a member of the group Dr. Yamada asked her to shepherd, and he's a kid, and now that Dr. Yamada's gone that responsibility is even greater. Victoria is burdened with Chris in the same way Marquis burdens Carol with Amy; sure, Victoria does it a lot more voluntarily.... but she's also doing it more because she agreed to care for "the group," not for Chris. Chris is a responsibility that came packaged with what she wanted to do. And while the care she has for Kenzie seems to come from a place of genuine concern and affection, her keeping tabs on Chris feels strictly procedural. She's responsible for him, she'll keep tabs on him, nothing more to it. There's a lot of resentment and some frustration that boils into how Victoria treats Chris as a result. Insert your arrested development "I don't care for Chris" image here.

Hell, despite otherwise having pretty wildly different viewpoints when interacting with people, Victoria ends up resembling Taylor a lot in how she thinks about Chris, because it matches up so well with how Taylor thought about Regent. Its another case of "That guy I'm not as close to as the others, the dangerous one, the one whose probably a sociopath waiting to be let loose." I remember thinking that Chris seemed like "the Regent of the group" in my early reading, but they're really not so alike personality-wise, or even in terms of their place in the team dynamic; they're just positioned the same way in the mind of each text's narrator.

I read Taylor's reaction to Alec as one part fear-response to people who seem to delight in other's pain for no obvious reason, and one part a reaction to all the stuff she doesn't like about herself projected onto some twink in leggings. Her fixation on the idea that Regent must just like hurting people, that its just the kind of person he is, comes from the same scared confusion about why her best friend and the whole of the school started torturing her for no apparent reason. Its a reaction from a person who still categorizes everyone as bullies or victims, and is distressed about whether there's more to that and where she is on the spectrum. In her mind, he's a kinda evil dude that likes to hurt people because hes a bully and that's what bullies are, but actually maybe he's fine to hang around with? Which is getting churned in her head alongside her pledging to protect people by becoming a horrifying warlord and making long arguments to Pariah and Flechette about how villains can be helpful and heroes can be bullies. Taylor's relationship to Alec and her distance from him is symptomatic of her evolving views about who people can be, what power can be used for, and why people act the way they do.

Of course, Taylor conversely forms one of her strongest emotional bonds with someone who reminds her of her bullies even more than Alec does. But I think this makes sense for the same reason Chris and Kenzie could both remind Victoria of Amy but inspire such differing treatment. Bitch's first encounter with Taylor was a seemingly random attack that Taylor directly compares to the trio's assaults: she instinctively looks for a reason to hold back like she did for them, and then finds freedom in not having one. But while Rachel at first seems to directly fit the "bullies because she's a bully" model, Taylor learns pretty early on that Rachel has perfectly understandable reasons for her behavior, and that she can be predicted and made into a close ally if she just pays attention and puts in the work. Taylor's relationship with Alec is her sticking to the idea that the world is bullies and victims, and you have to find your place in it without understanding it because there's nothing more to understand. Taylor's relationship with Rachel, meanwhile, is her finding out the world isn't just bullies doing bad things because they're bad people. Rachel is the possibility of understanding the world, bringing it to heel, learning to love it and make it love you.

Similarly, Victoria's relationship with Chris is a reflection of everything she internalized from the Wretchening, while her relationship with Kenzie is her reacting against those internalized lessons towards something more hopeful. Chris is a medical freak who becomes a horrible misshapen monster on a regular basis and who suffers horribly for it, yet keeps choosing to do so. He's wretchening himself at the slightest provocation—he's impatient to wretchen himself! Add to that how his emotions rule him to the degree that they physically transform him, and that he shows absolutely no desire to reign them in, and its pretty clear why Victoria is often so negative to him. He's a powderkeg waiting to go off in a horrible way like his sister was, filled with strange and offputting desires turned into strange and offputting flesh, and unlike Amy he doesn't even have the decency to shamefully repress it. Chris is Amy as the deviant who qua deviancy will inevitably be a danger to everyone around him. Kenzie, meanwhile, is Amy as the sister who gave too much of herself. Victoria's shown at times that she hasn't forgotten how she loved Amy as a sister, how she wasn't inherently evil. She spoke with regret about not listening to Amy when she begged Victoria not to hug her. And she's pretty much said in-text "I don't want Kenzie, who I love as I once loved my sister, to exhaust herself to the point that she becomes lost in the way my sister did." Victoria looks at Chris and is reminded of all her fears of what strange and dangerous people will do, of her belief that bad people do bad things because their bad people. Victoria looks at Kenzie and remembers that's not true, and that she can do something about it.

[shittysawtraps]

Hello, Oil Companies. 

For years, you have actively spread climate change denial, and when that failed, tried to convince people that there is no hope for our planet. You have made promises you have not kept, polluted our oceans and our air, and shifted the blame for the crimes you committed onto innocent individuals. You have made us feel powerless, and you have done nothing to fix the crisis that you created.

This ends now. 

I have placed you in a room with a computer. Above you is a bucket filled with all the money you have ever spent blocking climate change legislation and spreading fear.

On the computer, there is a tab open to a pre-written article, laying out each and every shady thing you have ever done, and all the ways in which you have set back progress on overcoming climate change. 

When this video ends, you will have one hour to publish the article on all of your major social media networks. You cannot make any adjustments or changes. If you do not do this, the bucket will tip down, and your own money will suffocate you. 

Live or die. Make your choice. 

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello! I haven't been "active" on tumblr for so long just been observing for years in all my fandoms, but seeing your responses in the DM tag has really encouraged me to ask this because I've been thinking about it for a hot minute. This may be a reach and I could be crazy but I had a wild thought and wanted your take. So we know that this scene is happening next ep and now with 1973 San Francisco already happening I had a thought.

Since this guy is with the Talamasca and they have been observing all supernatural beings, obviously they know what Louis and Armand have been up to long since their encounter with Daniel. So, what IF the reason he's saying to not fear Armand is because they have knowledge that maybe Armand has been keeping tabs on Daniel this whole time, maybe not the extreme stalking, but wanting to know what became of the fascinating boy and Armand was always a protector in the shadows for Daniel. The whole implication of him needing to fear Louis may not have anything to do with Armand, but something else that we are yet to find out. But obviously Talamasca guy doesn't reveal this to Daniel because they either A) know that they interacted and Armand wiped his memories and they know he doesn't remember it or B) Daniel and Armand never interacted and they know this and decides to not tell him, and bait him into asking more questions. I really hope this all makes sense because this whole expansion of DM has me in so many theories and speculations! Have a great day! 😊

It does make sense :)

I am leaning more towards A), and I also think that there might be more vampires there in the shadows. And though Raglan likely talked about Louis there wrt to the fear, that doesn't mean that there are no other things for Daniel to fear.

That said, I think it is highly likely that Armand kept tabs on Daniel, since that little package with the tapes arrives in the postbox without an address, and the medicine they give him had to be prepared beforehand as well.

There's a lot of little details that have not come into play yet, and I be they will only start to make sense afterwards^^. Which I love!