#i need to be EXTREMELY clear that i did NOT make this intentionally

[ingydar-phan]

Ok I do want to chime in on the convo but actually this is gonna be really long because I’ve been planning to make a huge post about this since the tour trailer came out. Like genuinely I messaged some people asking for tips on how to make a big conversation post weeks ago and then just never did it. So here goes I guess.

I am a firm believer they are going to hard launch soon. In some way shape or form. Before tour starts. That is a stance I have held ever since I watched pizza mukbang 2. And I have explanations.

My main points come from the coming out parallel surrounding Dans internalized homophobia and trauma responses and fear of rejection (more on that later), and also my hypothesized “3 stages” of the gaming channel revival.

I believe that when the gaming channel was revived, starting with the Heartthrob video, they entered stage 1: experimenting with audiences desire for a return to content. This was a phase they themselves discussed in Dans Birthday Stream and in Pizza Mukbang 2. The first few months were experimenting with what a new audience would look like and how much they were wanted, in what contexts, and what kind of content. I also think this wraps into the dynamic difference between Dan and Phil as people. Note, I love them both dearly and want nothing but the best for them both. It has been made clear that they did very different things during the hiatus, with Phil initiating the gaming channel comeback. Before Dan came out, he was under an immense feeling of guilt and pressure, even by his own mind. He had the option of leaving the internet forever, and he certainly considered it. Finish off the gaming channel, go on one last tour, and leave. Never having to adress anything again. But he didn’t do that. He came back. He came out. And he was greeted with the kindest, warmest, most accepting response. And he did work! He wrote a book! He went on a solo tour! And to echo both Dan himself and all of the community, he needed this. He needed this time of healing and this era of self discovery. He wouldn’t be who he is today without it, and I’m so proud of him.

But Phil? Oh Phil was just cruising along. That’s not at all to discredit any form of hardship Phil went through, but it certainly wasn’t the same. Phil was making content before Dan was, back in 2006. In uni, Phil was comfortable in his sexuality (or some form of queerness). But he waited. He waited to come out until Dan was ready. Because he’s a wonderful partner. He was happy continuing Amazingphil regardless of hiatus, of Dans needs, because he knew he didn’t have to pressure Dan into anything he didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. And then, presumably when Dan was ready, Phil proposed a gaming channel comeback. Just try it out, just see how it feels, low commitment. And what happened? Once again, they were showered with love and adoration and support and acceptance. Was the fandom different than how it used to be? Absolutely. But it was beautiful and loving. So that’s stage 1. Experimenting with content and viewership and re-entering the branding of Dan and Phil (Games).

Then, I believe after stage 1 came stage 2. Experimenting with audience reaction to Dan and Phil as a couple. I want to stake my claim here that everything they do is meticulously curated. Sure, Phil’s toe popping out of his sock wasn’t purposeful, but it was certainly handled intentionally. They’re extremely seasoned creators, and everything they do is for a reason. (That’s why I love rpf hehe). This, my “stage 2”, is when they were dipping their toes more into phan stuff. The orange heart. The “gay” community tab. Using the “ph-“ prefix THEMSELVES a lot more. Dab and Evan comparisons. This was the middle ground. How would people react? Would they turn away because it’s too much? Would they begin stalking and creeping all over again? Or would they accept these people for what they are. As much as people like to think Dan and Phil are just silly whimsical guys who are perfect no matter what they do (which is accurate as well tbf), they also know what they’re doing. They do these things on purpose to gauge audience reaction, to see how people feel about it. As others have said, what we see publicly is just a tiny sliver of their real life. Yea, even the domestic videos. It’s curated. And it’s wonderful. It’s so endearing they choose to share these things. Even in times of uncertainty. But that uncertainty was met with absolute acceptance.

Which is how we get into stage 3. I think “stage 3” started developing around the time of Dans Birthday Stream, but really actually started when the tour trailer was posted, and then all the videos after that (pizza mukbang, dressing each other, chained together, tiktoks, etc etc). So, very recently. But something shifted. Maybe it’s in the air, maybe it’s just me, maybe we all need to go outside. But something shifted. Dan and Phil, but especially Dan, saw how they were being accepted and took that as an affirmation. An affirmation that everything is going to be okay. They can commit now. They can go full on. Full hard launch.

I think everyone has a different definition of hard launch, and even I think it varies by context. But what I mean here is not necessarily them making some video called “Dan and Phil are romantically together” and staring at the camera with a gun to their head. It doesn’t, and shouldn’t, have to be that.

Straight people get this privilege of being assumed straight without having to “come out”. They get this comfort of having relationships without having to scream it in everyone’s faces.

And I do indeed agree with what people mean when they say they have already hard launched. They’re husbands, soulmates, 4000 year old tortoises, “basically any other gay couple”, more than just romantic, yea. I get it. But people are fucking stupid. Non-queer people don’t understand nuance, and need everything handed to them on a silver platter. Dan and Phil are together. People who try to twist and turn to try and “prove” they’re anything but a committed romantic and sexual relationship are ignorant at best, but mainly using homophobic wishful thinking. However, there’s more to go. There’s a reason we’re all “terrified” for what is to come. Because everything, the past 15 years of all of our lives, of their life, is coming together. It’s genuinely beautiful.

So what do I mean by hard launch then? Well, I mean a lack of censorship (besides what’s reasonable. Though we’d all love to see them fuck on YouTube, I’m not sure that’s happening any time soon). I mean a lack of shame. A lack of hiding. And it’s already begun. That’s what I feel stage 3 to be and have been. In pizza mukbang 2, they say things such as “cheers dear”, which is intentional. The “gay uncles” and the “kneeing” is all intentional. It’s not just throwaway jokes, it’s them looking us in the eyes and saying “we see you”. I have a whole list of stage 3 things. The intentional Incohearant cards. The “my face hurts from smiling” comments. THE HANDS ON THE SHOULDER TO THE HAND ON THE KNEE. Them being so open about their secluded romantic holiday. The relentless Phil bottom jokes. The yaoi day tweet from the outfits video. The “who would jump for you like that dog jumped for that man” “you”. It’s all there. It’s all intentional. And I’m so grateful for it.

One of my mutuals who I talked about this with (not gonna name cuz idk if they want me to) talked about their theory that DNP have given barely any info about tour because it requires some form of hard launch to preface it. And honestly? I didn’t even realize that was a theory. I sort of already accepted that as fact. How open IS the door gonna be?

So yea, I hope this makes sense. Please feel free to respond with or send asks of any nuances or questions or theories you’d like to add. I don’t intend this to be shaming anyone who thinks differently. Even if I may vehemently disagree with someone in my head, I don’t think these people are evil or malicious or objectively bad or deserving of hate. These are just my thoughts. I’ll likely be adding more. Thanks for reading.

[colormepurplex2]

Bump In The Night | MYG

▻ Bump In The Night ↳ Bogeyman!Yoongi x f.Reader ⤜ Horror/Thriller/Demon, Nyctophobia ⤜ Monster Under The Bed AU | angst, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 12,395 ⤜ Summary: The dark can be scary; full of strange, unseen things. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on your fear, the lights go out, and you face the reality that you were always right—you should fear the dark and especially what’s waiting in it. ⚠️ Crass language, fear, inciting fright, playing on emotions, teasing, kissing, fingering, biting/marking, dom tones, begging, choking, panic, unprotected v. sex, feeding on fear, dark thoughts, revealed dark intentions, predator/prey tones, chasing, claiming, serpentine tongue, oral f.receiving, monster cock/sex, metamorphosis

Written for the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween collab for @minisugakoobies A/N: Sunny, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. Happy belated birthday and hope you have a pleasant spooky holiday full of Bogeyman Yoongi delight!

A special thank you to @star-my @hisunshiine and @downbad4yoongi for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Beg For It

Nyctophobia [ nik-tuh-foh-bee-uh ] - noun Psychiatry: extreme or irrational fear of the night or of darkness.

One…

Two…

Three…

Breathe. Another few seconds, that’s all you want; just precious moments to prove yourself.

Four…

Five…

Six…

Cold chills slither down your spine despite the hot water beating against your back. Your fingers work vigorously against your cheeks and along your forehead. What feels like a thousand pounds settles along your lashes, even though you know it’s nothing more than marshmallowy-light foam.

Seven…

Eight…

Nin—

You spin around, nearly losing your footing in the shower as you angle your face under the spray from the showerhead. The heels of your palms press against your lids as you try to rid them of the foamy facial cleanser.

Air wheezes into your lungs, stray drops of water sucking between your parted lips as you try to breathe against the panic building in your chest. Jerking back from the spray, you open your eyes, wincing at the sting from the water-mixed-with-cleanser that drips from your lashes and floods the corners.

Nothing. There’s nothing there. All you see is the steam-filled space of your shower, water pelting down at your feet, a smattering of bottles arranged on the lip of the tub, and the inside of your plain shower curtain.

You sigh, irritation itching in your chest. Not even nine seconds. You were trying for at least ten. It never fails to leave a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you can’t seem to get a grip on yourself. It’s just the dark. Hell, it’s not even really the dark. It’s just having your eyes closed against the bright fluorescent lights of your bathroom; a pseudo-darkness.

The unease in your stomach refuses to dissipate as you turn off the shower, step out, wrap yourself in a towel, and go through the routine of brushing your teeth and massaging moisturizer into your skin. You hang up your damp towel, quickly pulling on the oversized t-shirt and shorts you intend to sleep in.

Steam clouds the mirror. You don’t typically care to wipe it away, not anymore. It’s one of your small, personal victories—one you intentionally remind yourself of now after your panicked stint in the shower. It used to be that you couldn’t stand not being able to see the space behind you through the reflective surface. Knowing if something lurked outside your line of sight, it couldn’t hide from being exposed through the mirror. Being able to see behind you was all that mattered. Now, you take pride in not needing to see…yet, the niggling in the back of your head won’t cease. So, you swipe a hand, collecting tiny beads of moisture on your palm as you go.

You’re unsure why the act makes your heart beat a little harder. It’s supposed to elicit the calm you so desperately need. But, once you’ve slashed a clear path across the mirror, your brow furrows as you lean in closer to it. Cold dread thunders through your veins as you jerk back, spinning on your heel to make sure what you saw through the mirror wasn’t just your mind playing a trick on you.

Nope, not a trick or even a figment of your imagination…unfortunately.

You stare in paranoid disbelief at the slender gap along the bottom of the bathroom door. The door that leads into your bedroom where you are absolutely, without a doubt, positive you left your bedside lamp on. The gap is dark, like a void threatening to suck you right into an endless nightmare of unrelenting terror. All that’s missing is a gaunt, skeletal hand sliding its too-long fingers under the door.

Shoving away those intrusive thoughts before they can take root and further fester like a dirty wound on your sanity, you try to think logically. It’s possible the bulb in your lamp could have blown, but you know you replaced it just last month. It’s far too soon for it to blow on its own, and surely, it’s not a faulty bulb. So, why is it out? Were you careless and, in truth, didn’t turn it on? A manic laugh gets caught in your throat as you silently berate yourself. That must be it. You simply forgot. So careless.

Fear is an acrid taste on your tongue as you slowly approach the door. You hate this feeling. Even though you tell yourself there’s nothing out there lurking in the dark to harm you, you simply forgot to leave the light on. The distress doesn’t subside—and it won’t. At least, not until you open the door and prove the dark to harbor no ill intent toward you.

Squaring your shoulders and taking what is supposed to be a calming and fortifying breath, though it feels more like sand slipping into your lungs, you wrap your fingers firmly around the brushed nickel handle. The metal is warm, slightly wet from the condensation formed during your shower, against your palm as you twist it.

You lick your trembling lips, taking one more moment to center yourself. Your eyes slide closed as you mentally recall the layout of your room, calculating how many steps there are to get to the nearest light switch. Your bed is angled so the foot faces the bathroom door, and the closet door to the left near the two windows you know are closed tight with the curtains drawn. The bedroom door is easily the furthest from the bathroom, leaving the overhead light out of the question. You knew, before you even began to analyze, that the bedside lamp you recall yourself leaving on is going to be the closest light source. Still, you needed to go through the motion of solidifying that information in your mind.

As you haltingly push it open, the quiet creak of the door, which sounds deafening in the silence of the bathroom, causes chills to pop up along your arms and the hairs at the nape of your neck to stand on end. Darkness ebbs as the light from the bathroom bleeds across the hardwood of your bedroom floor, slowly revealing the interior of your room.

Your heart lurches, and a scream rips from your chest when you see a dark figure sitting at the end of your bed come into focus as the bathroom door swings further open, the handle barely held in your now numb fingers. Panic barrels through you. Your muscles react instinctively, fingers tightening around the knob as you jerk back, the door closing with a harsh bang as you backpedal across the bathroom.

“Babe,” calls a playful voice from just on the other side of the door. You can barely hear it over the roaring in your ears. Nausea threatens to double you over, even as relief floods your system—such conflicting emotions that you feel suddenly off-kilter. 

There is a fine sheen of cold sweat clinging to your neck. Your hands fist into the front of your shirt as the door eases open to reveal your boyfriend standing at the threshold. His dark ensemble makes it seem like the bathroom's light bends around his form, not daring to touch him.

You’ve never liked it when someone intentionally scares you, claiming it’s a joke. It always seems more like a cruel prank than a laughing matter. Though, you note, no one is laughing right now either way. He doesn’t look smug or self-satisfied for having scared you, just simply mildly amused.

“You scared me, Yoongi,” you state flatly, crossing your arms over your chest, hoping he picks up on your discomfort.

The corners of his lips turn down, and his brow furrows as he gives you an exaggerated pout. Even with your pounding heart and the upside down in your belly, you can’t help but appreciate how cute he is when he does that. “I know. I just didn’t see the point in wasting the power if you weren’t going to be in there.” He gestures vaguely behind him to your room, which is barely lit by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to remind him that even though you weren’t in there, he was. Though, for some reason, Yoongi sitting in the dark doesn’t strike you as out of place. In the five years you’ve been together, you’ve learned to love his odd quirks just as much as any other part of him. He’s genuine, a caring person who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable—a far cry from anyone else you’ve ever given your time to.

“How was work?” you ask, aiming to get back on track with some semblance of normalcy—anything to not dwell on the lingering discomfort that’s still beating away in your chest.

His shoulders hitch up in a nonchalant manner. “Same as always. There’s been a big break in the Hunt case. Director Park thinks we’ll have the code cracked in a few more days. I say by tomorrow night, tops, just in time for our date. It’ll be a reward for my hard work,” his eyes twinkle with mirth. “After all, I think Samhain is a pretty fitting day for dealing with evil, huh?”

You make a noncommittal sound at that last part. Yoongi might enjoy that thought, but to you, tomorrow is more so just a day…simply October 31st and is more about plastic pumpkins, like the ones you have sitting on your front porch, than dealing with evil like that. The fact that Yoongi has convinced you to go to a festival tomorrow night is so wild you’ve been forcing yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I’d put my money on you over Director Park any day,” you say instead, giving him a soft, knowing smile. Yoongi has a penchant for estimations. If he thinks it’ll only take another day to crack a code that’s been wreaking havoc on Interpol for the better part of a year, then you believe him. You don’t pretend to understand all the intricacies of what he does; just know he’s really good with computers and helps whichever government agency needs it most or something like that.

Yoongi gives you a lazy smile in return. “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear. Your confidence in me is like kindling for my fervor,” he croons, wrapping you up in his arms. It feels good to relax in his embrace, the last vestiges of your earlier panic melting away as you soak in his warmth and familiarity. “Sorry I scared you,” he murmurs into your damp hair. “Let me make it up to you.”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, laughing softly when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and teasingly caress your sides—the touch is light, making your skin tighten and prickle in response.

A rumbling groan vibrates through Yoongi’s chest as he playfully nips along your jaw before planting his lips firmly over yours in a dizzying and claiming way. “We’ll start with kissing,” the words are whispered between plucks of his mouth against yours, tongue swiping sensually across your bottom lip.

“Kissing is good,” you agree, smiling against his mouth before melting into another heated tangle of tongues and stilted breaths. That fist around your heart eases, letting your chest expand fully for the first time since before you showered.

“Biting,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck. The light pressure of his teeth pressing against your skin has your toes curling against the cold tile floor and your fingers fisting into the front of his shirt.

Yoongi plants his mouth right over your pulse point, his tongue flicking over your throbbing vein as his teeth clamp down gently. You swallow hard against the sensation, your heart shifting gears to thud fast in your chest for a different reason. It’s not necessarily fear that drives your senses higher now so much as it is anticipation and an increase in adrenaline—terror adjacent, something you prefer much more to the former.

You shudder against him, knees going weak as he moans, the sound sending pulsing shocks of vibrations down your spine with how his mouth fits against your neck. His fingers ghost along your shorts before finally pushing past the elastic band. The palms of his hands are warm as they slide around and grip handfuls of your ass.

Using his hold on you, Yoongi lifts you up onto the counter beside the sink. As his hands retreat, they tug your shorts with them, working them around the curve of your ass until they’re caught at your knees. You let him push them further until they slacken and fall to catch around your ankles, then onto the floor. Wincing slightly at how cold the counter is against your bare skin, you urge him to fill the space between your thighs, seeking his warmth flush against you once again.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as he slides a hand between your bodies and presses the flat of his fingers against your pussy. You don’t need to look in the mirror to know his teeth have left an impression on your neck. He leans back and licks his lips in a show of appreciation, lidded eyes full of mischief and barely veiled lust. “Please.” It comes out warbled as he teases his middle finger between your lower lips.

“Beg for it,” he says. “Show me how much you want me to make you forget about the darkness.” His voice has an edge, like he’s teasing at something, but it’s lost on you to piece together what it might be.

Sucking in a deep breath, you repeat your plea, “Please.”

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding between your legs and under the sensitive skin of your neck that Yoongi ravaged with his teeth. Lightheadedness kisses the edges of your clarity, daring you to get lost in the delirium that Yoongi is offering.

“You can do better than that,” Yoongi taunts, his laugh low and husky as he pulls away, leaving you bereft of his touch where you want it most. “Beg. For. It.” The words are clipped, punctuated with staccato taps of his middle finger against your sensitive clit.

“Fuck—Yoongi, please! Please, I need you!”

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi smiles wickedly. Two slender fingers sliding into your wet heat are your reward. “You’re so wet already. Look at how your body is pulling me in. Fuck, that’s nice.” He angles himself so you can both look down and watch his fingers slowly pull out, glistening with your arousal before sinking back in.

Your body squeezes around his fingers, walls fluttering in anticipation and building pleasure. “Need you,” you mumble, grabbing at the button on the front of his dark wash jeans with one hand and tugging at the bottom of his black t-shirt with the other. “Fuck me, Yoongi, please. Please, fuck me. I need you to make me forget.”

A flurry of motion accompanies his answering growl of approval as he helps you strip him out of his clothes and the rest of your own. You barely feel the absence of his fingers in your cunt before he pulls your ass to the edge of the counter and shoves his cock inside with a guttural moan that echoes in the small space.

The fit of him inside your body is deliciously perfect, like he was made to please you. Your fingers press dents into his shoulders as you grip him tightly. One of his hands squeezes your hip to keep you from slipping off the counter while the other finds its way to having a light grip on your throat.

His forehead rests against yours, the back of your head pressed against the mirror behind you. The angle makes his thrusts shallow, forcing the crown of his cock to rock against a sensitive spot deep inside that has you seeing spots behind your closed lids.

Yoongi has always been a contrasting lover, hot and cold, in a way that always leaves you breathless and assuaged. The look on his face says he’s fucking you, but the sensual roll of his hips says he’s making love to you—the hand on your throat says he just wants to control you. Regardless of how he fucks, it always consumes you. From the first time to now, he wholly and utterly devours your sanity and spits it back at you two-fold. He brings you palpable lucidity while also destroying all sense of right and wrong. Some call it morally grey; you call it just another titillating facet of who he is.

Pleasure builds fast, and you know you’re about to tip over the edge when the pressure of his hand on your throat increases. It’s an infinitesimal change, but it feels like the tightening of a vice all the same.

The erratic beat of your heart stutters further, swallowing you down into a thick-headed spiral of trepidation. You know Yoongi won’t hurt you. It’s not that—not quite. It’s the idea and knowledge that he could. It’s a taboo feeling, craving that helpless flutter deep in your belly that dares you to indulge in the darkness instead of running from it.

Yoongi’s hips continue to roll against you, your body pinned in place by his hand on your throat. Your eyes flutter open just to fall shut again as the hand on your hip moves until his thumb presses against your clit, making your body jerk and hurtle back toward the precipice of pleasure from before.

With his thumb pressed against one throbbing artery in your neck and the pads of his fingers against the twin on the other side, he has complete and utter control over you. All it takes is another barely-there squeeze to have you changing your grip from his shoulders to his forearm.

The bitter taste of cowardice laces together with the cloyingly sweet, carnal flavor of lust that’s coating your insides. Yoongi rumbles, a moan low in his chest. The rhythm of his hips kicks up until they’re hammering against yours to the point that measures of pain mix with the terror, forming into a rapture of exhilaration. His thumb coaxes your orgasm through precise flicks over your swollen clit.

You can’t help the sound that rips from your throat, squeezing past his grip in a ragged mockery of a moan—bright colors spiderweb across the backs of your closed lids as you sip from his chalice of wickedness. White noise joins the rush of blood in your ears as somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, alarm begins to bleed into the hazy euphoria clouding your head. “Yes!” Yoongi groans. “That’s it, fuck!”

“Y-yoon—“ you try to choke out his name, fingers trembling from their tight grip on his forearm. Just as you’re about to try and shove him away to get a reprieve, his hand loosens its hold on your throat, and the instant rush of oxygen to your brain washes away all other thoughts as your body surrenders once again to his dominion. The orgasm tears through you, sweeping you out in a hedonistic riptide. Your walls clamp around his cock so hard he snarls and shudders with the trigger of his own release.

You must have blacked out from the overwhelming cascade that besieged your senses because the next thing you’re aware of is Yoongi tucking you into bed beside him. The sheets are cool against your heated skin, a welcome lull of relief. He presses into your sated body, chest against your back and arm possessively curling over your hip. “Get some sleep, my queen,” he murmurs. “I’ll hold the darkness back.”

The room is dark, just as it was earlier when you panicked. But, just as always, when Yoongi is around, it’s less frightening…seemingly somehow less dark and foreboding. He might have darker desires when it comes to pleasure, but right now, he’s the light that chases away your other demons.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

The taste of your fear still lingers in the back of Yoongi’s throat as he pretends to sleep curled around you. He knew turning off your bedroom light would scare you. It’s why he did it. The peckish feeling that rumbled in the pit of his stomach drove him to want to play with you. Your fear instantly sated his hunger, and it made his dick hard when you screamed. You scream so prettily he just can’t help that natural, primal response. 

That is, after all, precisely why he chose you. Everything about you speaks to his needs, promising sweet and succulent fruit that’s always ripe for plucking.

He learned early on that if he could elevate your heart rate and incite a sliver of fear in you while fucking you…well, his full belly is testament enough to how much he loves that. You call it a kink, he calls it dessert. It wasn’t his intention to fuck you after he frightened you, but the irritating erection grating along his zipper had other plans. 

His mortal form isn’t his favorite. It’s far too small and has far too many baser needs and limitations. Though he does enjoy the feel of your soft, pliant flesh under his—especially when you’re ripe with the sweet smell of terror—it makes it worth the discomfort this inferior mode has.

It’s not lost on Yoongi that he could have ruined you from the start by taking too much from you. But he’s been careful over the years, molding and training your body to be the perfect vessel for him to feed from. The fact you were already experiencing high anxiety and an innate fear of the dark prior to him coming into your life helped tremendously. Nyctophobia is such a beautiful thing.

You claim he’s helped you, for the most part, get over your fears. However, he knows this is just a lie you tell him and yourself to make yourself feel and seem braver. He knows the truth, though. There is no getting over your fear, not when it lives with you…sleeps next to you, touches you, fucks you. He’s everything you’re scared of, everything you think is creeping around in the dark, waiting to pounce. He’s your worst nightmare…literally as much as figuratively—and you have absolutely no inkling of that truth. All you see is what he lets you see: just a sweet guy with a penchant for darker tastes behind closed doors.

To you, he’s just Yoongi. But he has had many names over the centuries: Demon, Baba Yaga, El Coco, Butzemann, Tikoloshe, Bogeyman, and so on. All of them are generally the same, but none are quite right. He is all these things, and yet none of these things—he’s so much more.

It’s a common misconception that he only targets people who do misdeeds. That’s not it at all, for the sweetest fruit is the unwary, the innocent, the vulnerable, and the scared. That is the pinnacle of his desire, the unctuous delight that feeds his depravity and gives him power over the darkness—darkness that calls to him now.

Being careful not to wake you, Yoongi slips out from around your soft, lush body. Feeding on your fear in the bathroom drained some of your vitality, lowering your constitution, and the best recovery for that is a good, uninterrupted eight hours. So, he’ll leave you to replenish so that he may feast once again—one last time before he executes his final, ultimate plan; the whole reason he chose you to begin with and has been periodically parading around in this limited meat suit for years.

The maw of darkness under your bed beckons him to shake off the mortal form and take his rightful place as King among the shadows. Yoongi catches his reflection in the standing mirror across the room. The only thing distinct is the brilliant red eyes staring back at him. It feels good to stretch and dissolve into his proper form, shadows snaking along his limbs and filling his every breath.

You fidget on the bed, brow furrowing as your body reacts to the nearness of his proper form. He likes watching you twitch and shift, soft mewls of fright sounding low in your chest. If he wanted, he could swallow you whole, and you’d never be the wiser, one moment existing in your nightmare and the next slithering into the ether of what comes after. But, it’s not time…not yet.

Letting one of his long, spindly shadow fingers draw back in and reform into the echo of human flesh, he presses the blunt tip against your temple. You instantly quell your movements, and the pitiful cry in your chest subsides. Yoongi can feel the subtle tremble of your body, the vibrations skittering through your flesh as your body recognizes his hellish touch. Your subconscious is as familiar with his umbral form as your conscious is with the lies he’s used to frame how you see him with your eyes.

Digging through the screen of your nightmare, he pulls back the darkness and lets in just enough light to lull you into a false sense of security—something he does nearly every night after he’s fed from you so he doesn’t accidentally drain you dry. By the time he returns, the light will have faded from your dreams, and there will be just enough unfettered distress permeating the air of your bedroom to give him a top off of delicious fear, his own personal cup of pick-me-up.

Yoongi slides under the bed and into the darkness, leaving you to your deep, lambent dreams. He melts through the barrier between your world and his. Euphoria buzzes through him as his depth of power increases. That’s the biggest downfall of walking the mortal plane. There aren’t quite enough shadows or stinking fear to fill the neverending void inside him. But here, in the Realm of Darkness, the taste of terror is thick and nectarous. It lingers in the air and is as permanent as the oxygen you breathe in your world.

Yoongi drifts through the firmament of his domain, letting the worries and stress of what’s to come fade. For a being with endless power and control, he never thought he might have the need to be concerned over something seemingly so trivial. But, the ceremony and ritual he has planned for tomorrow night is easily the most critical thing he’s ever dared to accomplish.

The Realm of Darkness might be sufficiently filled with succulent fodder for him, but there are other limitations he encounters. Constraints that involve the worlds beyond his Kingdom. He doesn’t want just to be able to thrive here on his own turf. He has aspirations of letting his darkness seep into the outer realms—including yours—and if he has his way, you will help him do just that. The barriers will crumble, and he’ll be free to bathe the distant realms in his thick ichor of destruction.

Finally feeling more like himself, he aims for the Shadow Spire, where waits the Throne of the Damned—his throne. All it takes is a simple thought, and he’s standing in the sprawling cavern of the throne room. It stretches wide in all directions, having no end or beginning, just existing as his will needs.

Pillars of malachite soar into the air at equal intervals, disappearing into the glittering cosmos expanse above his head. Silvery flecks of light cast the whole room in a mockery of the night sky of your world, something he’s grown to admire over the years spent there. Yoongi takes a deep breath, soaking in the tangy, bitter stench of brimstone and copper. Soon, he hopes, your delectable perfume of fear will join them.

“Sire,” a gruff voice says in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you back until the ritual. Welcome, is there anything we can do for you?”

Yoongi settles his shadowy form on the monstrous broken stone pillar at the top of the dais that rises from the rocky floor. His court, ever vigilant in their duty to him, wait for him to respond. “Is everything prepared for the ceremony?” he asks, eyes finally landing on the six figures seated on the smaller stone plinths arrayed in a semi-circle in front of him—the Shadow Court once again complete with his return. Hopefully, he won’t have to leave the comfort of his court but one more time. Once the ritual is done, he shouldn’t have to so much as lift a finger to reach into the overworld.

“All is well and ready, Sire.” Wicked smiles spread like wildfire across the court. They’re just as excited as Yoongi is to be finally moving forward with the plan. None of them have tasted the kind of fear that Yoongi has feasted on from you—the fresh terror of the mortal realm—but if they had more corporeal forms, he knows they’d be salivating. Soon, so very soon.

Looking around at his companions, he can’t help but think how humorous it is that you so readily believed his deceptions about working for the human government. He remembers the day he finally stepped from the shadows and made himself known to you. You were immediately drawn to him and couldn't stop yourself from indulging in your curiosities like a moth drawn to a flame.

Yoongi had already come up with an elaborate backstory and characterization for the human he wanted to portray. He knew all of your deep, dark fantasies and brought them to life. Your eyes got round with awe and reverence when he first revealed his supposed job, confirming how gullible and under his spell you were. He can’t deny it’s worked in his favor.

He’s allowed to keep odd hours and disappear as needed. When he returns to your bed before the sun rises, he’ll leave you a note on your pillow about being pulled away for work. You’ll read it and sigh a dreamy sigh as you have every other time he’s done that. You never bother to seek further explanation—your trust in him is so wholly concrete.

There is satisfaction in the freedom you’ve granted him to embrace a darker side. It’s how he can get away with fucking you so callously that your brain warps it into some deranged form of love. You’ve chalked every depraved thing he’s done to you up to him needing an outlet after dealing with such heinous stuff for work. He only had to mention a few well-known acronyms, like FBI and CIA, and you accepted it. As scared as you are of the dark, he’s aware of the collection of slasher and horror novels you keep stuffed away under your bed and that you listen with rapt attention to those silly crime shows and podcasts that tell you he’s not the one you should be scared of. Soon, he won’t have to worry about any of that, though—no more silly backstory, no more hiding, no more stuffy mortal form, no more holding back. Tomorrow signifies a change, a new beginning. It’s the time when the veil between the worlds will be thin enough that he can drag you down without it sucking your life away. Some call it Samhain, Calan Gaeaf, Mischief Night, Halloween—it holds nearly as many names as Yoongi himself does—but for him, it will be the night he calls triumph. The night his shadows will lay a claim to you wholly; the night you stop fearing what goes bump in the night and instead stand by its side and let it consume you.

Wicked Delight

Consciousness comes in fits and spurts of clarity. There is a moment where you’re asleep but aware. With this awareness, you can discern and feel the potent darkness webbing across your subconscious. You’ve seen it before, the myriad of inky tendrils that zig-zag through the light like fissures over a dried river bed. It scares you but also fills you with intrigue so rich it nearly eclipses the fear.

You know that if you could just hang on to that in-between space, the feeling of teetering on the edge of a knife, you could examine the darkness further and figure out what it is and where it comes from. But your body has other plans, sucking you away from your inspection and pushing you toward uneasy wakefulness.

Shifting under the blankets, a crinkling noise draws your eyes open to land on a rumple of white paper lying beside you on the empty side of the bed. With fumbling fingers, you grab the ripped leaf of creamy parchment and turn it so you can see the blue scrawl of words.

Got some darkness to take care of. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Don’t forget; 11 pm sharp, beginning of the corn maze. X

There is no name signed to the note, just an X, but you know who left it, regardless. You roll over, holding the thin paper above you so you can see the faded, faint print under his ink. A smile tugs at your lips when you realize it’s a corner ripped from Kinder und Hausmärchen, one of Yoongi’s favorite books. He has an original first edition that he’s let you moon over a few times. The first time you found a note and saw what it was written on, you nearly crawled out of your skin to berate him for ruining such a prize. He gently chided you for your reaction and assured you it was just a copy, scanned and printed for the whimsy of it.

Looking closer, you see the corner is from a page of the Cat and Mouse in Partnership tale. Your smile fades, turning into a mild frown as an odd feeling ghosts beneath your skin, eliciting goosebumps to pop up along your arms. Sighing, you shake your head and pull the blanket up high under your chin, chalking the sensation up to being cold. Your eyes rove around the room, taking in the early morning light filtering in through your thin curtains, showing you just enough of the inside of your room to be comfortable with not having a light on.

Finally deciding there’s no point in dallying in bed further, you toss back the covers and brace yourself against the chill in your room. Only, it’s not as cold as you were anticipating. Opening the small drawer on your nightstand to deposit the message in with the dozens of others Yoongi has left you over the years, you can help but smile. They’re sweet, little pieces of him that affirm to you why it’s okay he disappears the way he does. The reminder comforts you, especially on this day.

Halloween has never been your favorite. Well, that’s not true, exactly. You do like Halloween—just the modern and more mainstream version with candy, pumpkins, and warm, spiced drinks. Fall colors are also something you enjoy. The cooler air is nice. You’re partial to cozy sweaters and boots, too.

All in all, you enjoy this time of the year. You just don’t necessarily like the darker parts, the scarier parts. Haunted houses and scary movies are things you could do without unless it’s under very specific circumstances. Such as having Yoongi there. Which is the only reason you’ve agreed to meet him at the festival tonight. You haven’t been since you were a teen and got so scared by the fright actors that you swore never to return.

Except, now, you are returning. It’s been on the tip of your tongue for the last week to cancel on Yoongi, feigning a head or stomach ache. But, the sheer excitement in his gaze when you agreed, has been enough to make you bite your tongue every time a protest bubbles up. You can—and will—do this.

With an entire day to go before your date with Yoongi, you busy yourself with mundane tasks. A bit of cleaning, some light reading, and lastly, dumping a few bags of assorted and prepackaged candies into a bright orange bowl with a goofy jack-o-lantern face printed on the side.

You’re usually a porchlight-off kind of person. Still, this year, considering your own venture outside your proverbial Halloween box, you decided why not go the extra mile for others, too? Even if one kid dumps the entire bowl into their treat bag, you’ll at least feel somewhat accomplished in your attempt.

Setting the bowl on your doorstep, you stand back and survey it. The yellow-tinged porch light illuminates the candy and the plastic pumpkins you have arranged on either side of your door. You contemplate adding a ‘please take only one’ sign for the bowl but decide a paper warning isn’t much of a deterrent. Leaving the candy to its fate, you head back inside to finish getting ready.

Time flows in a weird, out-of-body kind of way. You’re aware of pulling on your coat and walking into your garage through the kitchen—even the process of driving to the festival registers in your mind. But, you’re genuinely not cognisant of what you’re doing until you’re staring at the large flashing sign for the festival. You have to practically put on blinders to make it through the ticketing process, ignoring the scare actors as you wait in line.

The corn maze is at the center of it all, meaning you keep your eyes glued to the ground as you skirt the edges of the food stalls and game stands until you reach it. There, you wait, standing at the start of the corn maze and stare at your watch, counting the seconds as they tick by with the small hand.

The air is cool, the crisp scent of fall heavy around you. Laughter and faint screams carry to you from the festival surrounding the maze. The giant corn labyrinth is the center of the entire two-week-long event. Thousands of people flock from near and far to venture within the husked, cream-colored stalks.

If you make it through the maze without assistance from the scare actors, then you get an entire bucket of caramel popcorn drizzled with chocolate. That’s never been enough of a reward for you to try. Even the last time you were here, you never stepped foot into the clustered embrace of the maze.

The festival is lit enough with all the twinkling lights and fair games lining the thoroughfares and the midway. Food trucks and stalls litter through the vendors with stuffed animals and cackling clowns. You try to ignore the bodies that sway and shamble through the crowd—the scare actors. They’re just people dressed up in costume and makeup, but they still elicit that flighty feeling in your belly, that little trickle of fear.

At the ticket booths, there were neon green necklaces you could purchase. You used them as a distraction while you waited in line. They’re ‘no scare’ necklaces, big bright indicators that you’re a sensitive little bitch that doesn’t want to be scared. At least, that’s how you felt looking at them, considering buying one. You know they’re an extremely valid item, a protective emblem that many people need, and that it’s perfectly fine—in fact, it’s encouraged for people to use them if they need to.

As you fingered the green nylon of the lanyard, you couldn’t help chewing your bottom lip, worrying at it until it cracked under your teeth and the coppery tang of blood danced across your tongue. You almost bought it…maybe you should have. However, the fact that you’re half-hidden by the corn maze sign and doing everything in your power not to draw unwanted attention to yourself seems to be keeping you from attracting the actors your way.

The tiny hand on your watch ticks away, drawing closer to turning over the minute, which'll turn over the hour to 11 PM. Sharp. Yoongi’s insistence. Just as the hands come together on your watch, you feel that telltale tingling feeling of eyes on you. It’s a familiar sensation, one you often associate with Yoongi. Daring to step out from behind the sign to the corn maze, you spin in a slow circle, trying to catch sight of him.

“Looking for someone?”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the shriek that rips from your chest as those words drift in from right behind you. So close that it’s impossible to imagine you hadn’t noticed him approaching you as you looked around.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, dropping your hand.

He's enveloping you from behind before you can turn around and give him a pouty yet stern look. His familiar musk and warmth ease your heart back from its hammering gallop. “You’re good enough to eat,” he gruffly murmurs, pressing his nose into the fabric of your coat at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You can feel more than hear his deep inhalation, as if he’s drawing in the scent of your very soul and branding it throughout his olfactory system.

“The maze closes in an hour. Are you sure we can make it to the center before then?” you ask, voice light and airy as relief infused with drips of serotonin weaken your knees and your resolve to be upset with him for frightening you. You turn in his arms, keen to look upon his face for another kick of comfort, but it sours in your belly when you take in his pulled-up hood and the thick black gaiter covering the bottom half of his face. “What’s that for?”

Yoongi shrugs, shoulders lifting in his typical nonchalant manner. “It’s Halloween. Consider me dressed for the occasion.” He winks at you, but it does nothing to quell the unease still rolling around just beneath your surface. Feigning that stomachache is starting to sound more and more appealing, Yoongi’s excitement be damned.

“You look like a burglar.”

You can’t see his smile, but you can tell it’s there by how his eyes crinkle and lids lower mischievously. “And you look ripe for the burgling.”

“You’re insufferable,” you gripe teasingly, finally letting a smile grace your face despite the lingering anxiety. It’s easy to forget your fears and worries when you’re looking into his umber-colored gaze.

“Come on, let’s go.” Yoongi offers you his elbow, and you tuck your hand into the crook of it, leaning your shoulder against his arm.

The fleece-lined leggings you chose to wear keep you warm enough, paired with the knit sweater and thick tweed coat covering your top half. Your chunky boots are comfortable and practical for the slightly uneven terrain of the cornfield-turned-maze. Yoongi is far more casual in just jeans, the hoodie, and a pair of dusty and worn sneakers.

You study his face the best you can past the edge of his hood and out of the corner of your eye. He’s just as handsome as always. Even the black fabric covering the bottom half of his face doesn’t detract from his allure, which seems to be intensified by the deepening darkness around you as he leads you through the maze entrance.

A festival worker stands off to the side in full-on farmer-gore. Their overalls are covered in faux viscera, and there is a bloodied sling blade dangling from their off-hand as they beckon you and Yoongi forward with their other.

“Tonight's savior phrase is ‘Pumpkin Guts’, yell it out if you need assistance navigating the maze, and a helper will assist you,” he offers before turning to the next patron approaching a few feet behind you and Yoongi and giving them the same information.

“Pumpkin Guts,” Yoongi scoffs with a quiet laugh. “Surely they could have come up with something far more fitting than that.”

“I find it kind of nice. The childish charm of it helps make a situation like getting lost in the maze less scary, don’t you think?”

His eyes look more onyx now that you’re within the maze, the only illumination coming from tiny, sparse fairy lights. They catch your gaze, and you see a smile tilt up the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “That’s adorable.”

“What?” you laugh, feeling heat crawl into your cheeks.

Yoongi shakes his head, his smile growing. “You always find the good in everything. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

All the residual anxiety from earlier bleeds away with just that singular statement. You press in closer to Yoongi and angle your face up in silent request, to which he immediately obliges. He hooks a finger in the lip of his gaiter and pulls it down so he can slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warmer than usual, his breath carrying faint hints of bourbon as he teasingly slips his tongue through the seam of your lips. All too soon, he’s pulling away, leaving you with just that small taste of him. The gaiter slides back into place, and he nods ahead of you. “The quicker we make it to the center, the quicker you get the surprise I have waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask, thoroughly intrigued. 

His affirming hum in response turns into a soft chuckle as you eagerly quicken your steps, tugging him along beside you. As someone who isn’t partial to being shocked or scared, it’s perhaps a bit ironic that you love surprises of the unknown. They just have to be the right kind—like one from Yoongi; er, well, at least the ones that don’t involve him sitting on your bed in the dark as you open the bathroom door or so you tell yourself—but you digress.

Though, perhaps there is a bit of enjoyment from those kinds of surprises, too. In a twisted, semi-fucked up way, the surge of adrenaline is like a counterweight to the dopamine response from your amygdala that follows any time you get frightened. The perfect balance of emotions. The fight or flight reflex makes your body feel like it’s keyed up with extra energy, leaving you feeling like you’ve just run a mile or fucked for an hour. It’s maybe a little unhinged to salivate over those small sips of terror secretly. Does that make you a masochist?

You’d almost think Yoongi picks up on your inner thoughts with the way he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat and gives you a sidelong, knowing look. Something tingles beneath your skin, an electric feeling akin to loose ambitions. It seems tonight won’t be so bad after all.

The crunch of dried corn husks and hay accompanies the occasional scream or laugh echoing from various points in the maze. You’ve only led Yoongi to a dead-end a handful of times so far, but the anxiety at not having found the center of the maze yet is starting to mount.

“I can feel your stress in the tension in your hand,” Yoongi muses softly. “Relax, you’ll get your surprise.”

“What if they close the maze before we make it to the center, though?”

“They won’t.”

You cut a quick glance at him. He looks smug. “You seem so sure, but from my count,” you shift your attention to your watch, “we only have fifteen minutes before the festival closes, and I’d guess we’re nowhere near the center yet.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I may have paid the vendor to let us stay as long as we need.”

“You did what?”

“Tonight’s special,” Yoongi tugs you to a stop, his hands engulfing yours, and gives you a pointed look. “Very special.” The thumb of his right hand grazes over the expanse of skin above the knuckle on your left ring finger. “Now, let’s go find the center…and your surprise.”

A new sensation trickles in–excitement. Your heart patters faster as you turn and haul Yoongi on with renewed vigor. Gone is any trepidation; in its place, nothing but giddy and barely veiled anticipation. And to think, you’d almost been silly and canceled on him.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

Yoongi wasn’t exaggerating when he said you look good enough to eat tonight. If only you knew how close to an accurate statement that was. He’s had a constant flow of moisture seeping into his mouth since he laid eyes on you standing behind the wooden sign for the maze. He had just finished setting up the surprise for you in the center, utilizing his natural form in order to move quickly without being seen.

All the implements he needs await him at the maze's center. The theatrics of it all are only for fun. He could have simply taken you without them. But he’s always been partial to playing with his food before devouring it. The pungency of your anxiety as you waited was a delightful appetizer to what is sure to be a satiating main course.

Every time you make a wrong turn in the maze, Yoongi can feel the tension in your muscles and the momentary disappointment that flavors your scent. It’s amusing watching you shuffle your feet and grumble under your breath before turning and backtracking.

It’s not lost to him the amount of uncertainty you’ve had ever since he asked you to go with him tonight. Not that he would have given you a choice in the end; he’d have taken you by force if needed. But he’s a passive creature at best, so the less work he has to do, the better.

Using the ruse of there being a surprise waiting for you isn’t entirely untrue. Though, the treat he’s confident that he’s planted the idea of in your head is far different from what’s actually going to happen. He’s spent enough time in the mortal realm to know what you’d have interpreted from him stroking that particular finger with the right look in his eye. Your heart had gone into a frenzy of thick, heavy beats, and your eyes had lit up with wonder.

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he knows what’s driving your feet to move as quickly as they are now. It’ll just make the disappointment taste that much sweeter. Over the five years he’s been administering to you, molding you into the perfect vessel, he’s learned the small nuances that make you tick. Whether it’s for eliciting fear or excitement, desire or anguish, he knows exactly how to produce the results he wants.

“Ugh,” you grumble for the dozenth time when you turn a corner and come to another dead end. “This is impossible. How can you find enjoyment in these things?”

Yoongi smirks. “It’s quite analytical if you really want me to answer that.” The way your nose wrinkles when he says that is positively adorable. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

You gleefully cede the lead, letting him guide you back and toward a different direction entirely. You’re still excited, bubbling with positive anticipation, even though you’re no longer playing the game, per se. It’s interesting how you so quickly relinquish the hunt—he’d never.

The noise of the festival and maze has long since fizzled away. He didn’t actually pay the attendant. He’s just using some of his ability to mask your presence from anyone who might get in the way. Some of the lights from the midway are still going, and a few rides are lit up. However, the deeper Yoongi leads you into the labyrinth, the darker it becomes. He’s confident you’re so wound up that you don’t even notice how his shadows grow and stretch along the narrow walkway around you.

“Oh, look!” You excitedly point at the opening that comes into view at the end of the row. “I can smell the popcorn. Did that bribe include a bucket waiting for us, too?”

Yoongi has no idea if there is popcorn waiting, but he imagines you’re only smelling the lingering scent. He can’t detect anyone else within a hundred-meter radius around the maze. If the prospect of popcorn makes you happy, then sure. “Of course it did. We’ll need a snack once I’m done with you.” Which mostly isn’t true, though he can’t be sure. Yoongi has never shadow-turned a human before, much less taken a mate in the process. You might be ravenous by the time he’s done; though, he’d bet it won’t be popcorn you’ll be craving.

There is a distinct moment where Yoongi can feel the shift in your demeanor. Your excitement dips into confusion as you take in the finish line area that’s deserted of anyone and anything other than the large 10 ft square structure he erected in the middle. The raw malachite plinths are so dark the lindworm-colored stone seems to absorb the illuminance around them, turning the gateway into a giant pit of darkness that devours the faint twinkling lights. Shadows bleed from the open space between the pillars, reaching for their master.

Yoongi’s blood sings with desire as fear trickles in with the confusion. “Yoongi,” you whisper his name, and it warbles from your lips oh so beautifully. “What’s that?”

“That’s your future, my love.” He untangles himself from your grip, circling you like a predator. “Now, run!” he snarls from right behind you.

You don’t even scream when he shoves you forward, your arms windmilling and boots tripping over the scatter of dried corn husks before you topple headlong between the pillars. The last thing he sees before the waiting shadows swallow you is the whites of your eyes as you throw a panicked look over your shoulder at him.

It’s mildly disappointing that you didn’t even so much as grunt or give him any sort of satisfaction that you’re petrified other than the cloying perfume of your terror that settles on his tongue when he huffs in irritation. Hopefully, when he follows you through the gateway, you’ll already be on the run because he’s in the mood to play a while longer before he shatters the world as you know it.

Yoongi wants you to recognize him, so he only casts off some of his mortal form, choosing to keep his face and most of his body intact. What changes is his size; he grows larger, arms and legs longer, fingers more like talons, and eyes the dark red of fresh blood.

He knows he looks monstrous, even more so with the cloth still covering the lower half of his face and the hoodie now ripped and hanging from his physique. As soon as he slides through the barrier of the gateway, he’s met with that euphoric sound he hoped for earlier. Your scream rends through the thick, stale air of the Realm of Darkness, music to his ears.

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi crows, his voice gravelly and distorted by his natural form. He inhales deeply, sucking in your dismay's succulent and divine fragrance. “Fuck.”

You scream again as he steps toward you, which spurs you into gaining your feet, not even caring to look at the soot-like substance caking your hands and knees. Yoongi can only imagine the thoughts warring inside your pretty little head right now. Wild fear makes your eyes flick frantically around before you choose a direction and sprint at breakneck speed between the skeletal trees surrounding this side of the gateway.

He chose the Forest of Decay specifically because it provides the perfect environment for a chase. It allows him to easily keep up with you while giving the illusion of protection. There’s also not a single nook or cranny Yoongi isn’t intimately familiar with; after all, he can’t have you finding some unknown hole to burrow into.

The flash and flicker of your coat draws his attention as it zigs and zags through the petrified sentinels of the forest. Their long, gnarled branches reach far, entwining overhead like a macabre endless bird's nest. It creates a dim atmosphere, with the faintest hint of light bleeding through the limbs. Each tree is about a foot wide and twenty feet high, the ground covered in sooty ash; it’s an ideal playground.

“Leave me alone!” you sob when Yoongi lets you catch another glimpse of him.

Yoongi shudders as a fresh, new wave of terror undulates from you and washes over him. “No can do, my queen.”

The thrill of the chase adds kindling to Yoongi’s need to consume you whole. Every step you take is reckless. You throw yourself around trees so fast you nearly hit the next. The spacing between the trees is relatively narrow, just a few feet at most. Still, with the way you’re barreling through them, you’ve already accumulated a few scratches and minor lacerations from the dried bark, feet kicking up small puffs of ash with every frantic step. The tangy, sweet scent of your blood makes him salivate. The thick, viscous drool coating his tongue will make it all that easier to fuck you with it once he catches you.

Lumbering on behind you, Yoongi intentionally stomps and makes as much noise as possible. Every crack and thump he makes has a whimper shivering from your throat. The thick appendage between his monstrous thighs swells with each terrified sound you make. Fucking you in his proper form will be such a treat. Surely, it’ll be far better than any sex he’s had with the limits of his human body, even if he does love the way your softness compliments his.

But there is nothing soft about Yoongi now—not when he has such a tasty morsel running and screaming so prettily for him. He’s all hard edges and thick muscle. A manic chuckle bubbles in his chest as he leaps ahead, hounding your heels.

It’s comical, ironic even, when he watches your foot catch on a high root hidden by a pile of ash, and you go sprawling on the ground before him. He’s seen enough of those cheesy horror films so fervently worshiped in your world to know how funny this is.

“Please, no! Leave me alone!” you beg through ragged breaths. Your face and hair are marked with scratches, flecks of dried bark, and the pewter-colored ash covering the ground.

An appreciative moan works its way free of Yoongi as he stands over you, swaying like he’s drunk. Which, maybe he is. There is a faint buzzing in his ears, and if he opens his eyes too wide, your image doubles. Two of you; he grins wickedly at the prospect. Now, that would be a definite treat.

As it is, there’s only you; that will be sufficient for what Yoongi has planned. He looms over you, and the backward-bending joints of his knees give slightly as he towers across your prone form. Your eyes pan over his arched body, perhaps for the first time, taking it in with true clarity. Yoongi lets his skin ripple between human and proper form, coalescing and whirling with shadows.

With a flex of darkness, he rends the remnants of his clothes. The ripping of the seams and subsequent soft plop of the ruined fabrics echo through the suddenly silent space. You’re barely even breathing as you take him in, eyes landing on the swinging cock that nearly brushes your belly as he places a gnarled hand beside your head in the ash.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, though it comes out more like sand in a grinder. Lowering further, Yoongi nudges your chin with his nose, guiding your head sideways to give him unfettered access to your throat. Pressing into the crook of your neck, he huffs hot breath over your skin, rejoicing in the instinctive reaction. Your skin prickles and flushes with goosebumps, and a thick cloud of potent fear wafts up as your pulse hammers away beneath his lips.

“P-please,” you whimper through trembling lips. Tears stream down your cheek and drip off the bridge of your nose. Their salty tang mixes with the sweetness of terror pervading the air.

That word, spoken in that way…it does something to Yoongi. He groans, nipping at the skin of your neck with his blunted teeth before letting them elongate so he can adequately graze your papery-thin flesh. You cry out when they slice through, leaving behind thin blood trickles and shallow scratches.

Your blood is laced with fear, blooming on his tongue like an ambrosia of the gods. “You’ve always begged so prettily, my queen. You’re a treasure, and I’m so glad I found you all those years ago, so innocent and unsuspecting—my perfect mate.”

The next scream that leaves your lips is guttural, full of panic and delirium as Yoongi takes his first pull from your body. Thin wisps of black shadow thread from his lips to yours. They pulse with every drag he takes. He’s fed from you thousands of times, but never like this—never so profoundly.

Fear, terror, horror, fright…it’s all the same, and yet Yoongi is almost sure he can taste the distinction. Like a fine wine, you have tasting notes that vary with every sip. By the fifth breath, your body has grown slack, your eyes wide and glassy. Tears still stream down your face but in silence.

Yoongi watches your pallor grow sickly, waxy as sweat pearls along your hairline and temples. Draining you is a delicate affair, something he’s both dreaded and looked forward to for so long. Watching the fire that he loves so much bleed from your eyes and the vigor leech from your skin pangs him with a foreign sensation, something akin to mourning? He realizes now he will mourn the loss of your human form, even if it’s far inferior to what he will turn you into.

With one final shuddering gasp, the darkest, thickest tendril of shadow snakes its way between your parted lips. Your fingers and limbs spasm as the inky darkness roots in deep, tethering itself to you like the strings of a marionette. It pulls tight in Yoongi’s own chest, cementing his essence to yours. As a barbed ring of shadow settles on the ring finger of your left hand, the bond snaps into place, and chaos ensues.

🖤🖤🖤

You’ve never experienced such visceral fear before. It’s consumed every fiber of your being. You’re no longer who you once were and will never be the same again. You are simply fear incarnate.

A boiling starts beneath your skin, beginning at the tips of your fingers and toes before rolling through to the center of your chest, where it pops and sizzles like dry ice in tepid water, so cold it burns.

It’s like flipping a coin. One minute, you are experiencing insurmountable terror, and the next, you exude it. Nothing can scare you now, not even the monster sitting a few feet away watching you with calculated eyes—familiar eyes, eyes you’ve lost yourself in more times than you can count.

They’re not as cold as they were a moment ago. You distinctly remember how those red eyes softened right before you felt yourself float away. It’s Yoongi, you know this, but it’s also not. He’s different, and it’s not even the deformed, gangly shadow form that makes up his body, either. There’s something more, something that draws you in, like an anchor dragging you into his deepest, darkest depths. He’s a vast ocean, and you’re pretty sure what he just did was akin to drowning you—killing you.

Only you don’t feel dead.

Quite the opposite, in fact. For the first time in your existence, you feel truly alive; and not in the living sense but in the eternal sense. You have no ending or beginning; you exist as you will yourself to be.

With that thought, your body urges you to change, to morph into a far more comfortable form. Darkness seeps from your pores, cascading out of your skin until it becomes a mockery of its former self, and it feels good—so good.

“What have you done to me?” Your voice sounds different, soft yet sultry. It reminds you of black silk and lace, devious and coy, with the perfect mix of husk and drawl.

Yoongi lets out a slow breath, the sound like dry leaves crackling. “Made you mine.”

“What…what are we?”

The soft ash sifts between your now exposed toes, the boots you once wore laying in peeled strips along with tattered remnants of your clothes. Nudity has never been an issue for you, but it’s as if you have no inhibitions at all now. The shadows around your body contort to form curves and perfect swells.

“We have many names. Demons, bogeymen…it’s all very fitting, yet doesn’t quite capture the truth. What I am—what we are—is darkness, fear, terror, and shadow. We are infinite, endless, and everything all at once.”

“Why me?” you whisper. That tether inside of you pulses, pulling tight as you shift and try to put distance between yourself and Yoongi. It’s like a rope around your throat, pulling you up short.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. “This is the Realm of Darkness—my domain,” he gestures broadly with a clawed hand, “and it was all I had access to until I found a way to enter yours. Once I tasted the sweet nectar of fear it provided and the power it allowed me access to, I couldn’t stop my curiosity and need for more. Then I found you, and I knew you would be the perfect compliment to my aspirations, just the thing I needed to break the barriers completely.”

He straightens up, and the way his body catches your attention has a heat flaring somewhere deep in your being. Your eyes lock on the dark sinews and plump muscles that stretch and contract as Yoongi moves to crouch in front of you. The ribbed and notched cock swaying between his thighs dribbles a thick, viscous line of lavender-colored arousal.

Tearing your eyes from the sight of it, you force yourself to look into his feral, red eyes. His explanation is both confusing and clear at the same time. You understand it, but know that you should be railing against it because it’s morally incomprehensible. You’ve essentially been kidnapped and forced into what this is. Yet…yet—“I feel…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe it.

“Powerful,” Yoongi offers with a knowing, pointed-tooth grin.

“Powerful,” you repeat, letting the word roll around your tongue before nodding. Perhaps that’s why you are shrugging off your cares and the moral compass that has seemingly forgotten how to point north.

The subtle smell of burnt wood and sulfur hits you as Yoongi raises a hand to fit across the front of your throat. Those too-long fingers engulf it, sending a shiver down your new body. Instead of your belly filling up with fear, it fills with desire and need. You no longer need to battle the terror, letting it drip away from you instead.

“Look at you. You’re so perfect. You don’t feel scared, but that’s only because this realm leeches it away and devours it before it can poison your mind, leaving behind nothing but how you truly feel.”

You know there has always been a darkness inside you, something that even you feared to face head-on. After all, it must take some kind of crazy to be both scared of the dark and want to embrace it. It’s not just the way Yoongi plied your body and made you forget to care about being proper and good. Is this what you were made for—all the fright and terror you’ve experienced and secretly sought out leading you to this very moment here?

All it takes is one look at Yoongi to know the truth.

You were created for this, crafted to be precisely what Yoongi needed, just as he said.

With that moment of clarity and acceptance, a new sensation slithers down your spine. A lasciviousness that has you moaning in surprise. 

“Fuck,” you grind out between clenched teeth.

“Gladly,” Yoongi chuckles, his red eyes taking on a lecherous gleam. “Let’s unleash your darkness on the realms, my queen.”

Between one breath and the next, your knees are splayed wide, and Yoongi has his face buried between your thighs. All it takes is one languid swipe of his long, broad tongue to have you cursing again. Caustic words fall from your mouth, laced with vitriol as it’s unfair how good it feels. It’s like every inch of contact between your body and his writes itself across what was once your soul.

“Mmmph,” you moan incoherently as the beginning of an orgasm lashes against your insides. Yoongi greedily sucks and licks, tongue laving over your throbbing clit before sliding between your contracting walls.

A tsunami of darkness crashes out from within you, blanketing the surrounding forest in shadow. Wisps of clarity ebb and flow, drifting along with the gloom until Yoongi grounds you with an exceptionally sharp pinch to one of your nipples.

“Almost there,” he announces gleefully, licking his lips before launching forward and forcing you onto your back.

Yoongi feels like fire against you, his body scorching everywhere it touches. You expect to feel the soft ash against your back but the only sensation that ebbs in is a cool aeration against the exposed skin between your shoulder blades.

Monstrous arms wrap around you as Yoongi slots his too-big mouth over yours, invading you with his slick, serpentine tongue. Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of a pewter sky beyond the scraggy branches that are suddenly closer overhead.

You try to pull away from his devouring kiss to alert him to the jagged web of dry wood about to scrape his back, but he growls and renews his effort to shove his tongue as far into your mouth as possible. Snaps and cracks fill the air, and wood explodes around you.

Realization dawns as more should-be-fear-turned-lust pours through your body and expands beyond it, filling the sky around you with a murky darkness. The power of that emotion propels you further, sending you and Yoongi far above the landscape to suspend over the entirety of the Realm of Darkness, leaving a streamer of smoke-like essence in your wake.

Yoongi throws his head back, finally relenting from the kiss. His broad chest heaves against yours, and his red eyes are wild as they roll manically before landing on you. “How is this possible?” you pant, hands gripping the muscles of his shoulders tightly.

“Anything is possible here,” he whispers fervently before spinning you so fast your vision blurs. The horizon spans as far as you can see around you. You and Yoongi are hundreds of feet higher than even the tallest mountain peak. Everything is a monochrome grey, black, or in-between. A jagged line of mountains rear to your right while inky streams and rivers zig zag to your left. It’s a hideously beautiful display that contradicts all scenic views you’ve ever seen, yet is better than all of them combined.

“Oh, God,” you whimper when Yoongi forces your legs wide and slots his hips between them from behind. Shadows billow around you, charged with energy that crackles and sizzles, barely restrained from being unleashed to wreak untold havoc.

Thin fingers slide around to cup the front of your throat, giving a none too gentle squeeze. Yoongi snarls, “There is no God here. We are the gods!” His declaration is punctuated by the head of his cock prodding against your sopping cunt. This new body is already eager to pleasure Yoongi and receive pleasure in kind.

His hips kick forward, and you feel every delicious ridge and ripple along his thick shaft. It feels like he invades the pit of your stomach, filling you to the brink. It’s a rush of wicked delight, pure erotic rapture.

You moan again, this time invoking the only name left on your tongue, “Yoongi!”

“I’ve been looking forward to fucking you like this for five years,” he grunts, emphasizing the words with his hips pumping against your ass in brutal strokes. “Claiming you wholly, decorating the world with our combined shadows. Look how they writhe for you, waiting for you to command them. Let go.”

Your eyes roll from side to side, taking in the dark, undulating forms stretching wide around you. With each prick of pleasure Yoongi insights in your body, they branch and roil further out, creating the foundation for your own personal bedlam. 

Like a bounty won at the end of a hunt, Yoongi ravishes your body with his. He’s brutal, unrelenting and wanton. The hand on your throat tugs with every slam of his hips, bowing your back and forcing you to peer out at the Kingdom begging for your rule. Darkness beseeches you, screaming for your glory and power as it pours out and blankets the sky.

Your world narrows to one pin point of coherency. Yoongi. He is nothing and everything all at once. He is the beginning and the end—fear, loathing, lust, and madness…through it all, he is infinite. And he’s yours.

With one final, shuddering breath you let go; welcoming the darkness once and for all.

“Yes.” The word, whispered from your parted lips, is sucked away with the maelstrom that detonates around and within you.

You barely hear the guttural, primal roar that emits from Yoongi as he buries himself to the hilt and fills you with his terrible darkness. You shatter into a multitude of shards, a glittering storm that dances through the ether, sparking and catching on the thin membrane that stretches between the realms. All it takes is one weak point, a small breach in the barrier, and everything falls apart.

It’s glorious, feeling yourself everywhere all at once. Your body is still fluttering around Yoongi, sucking and welcoming his release into your soul. But, your consciousness is spread wide, bleeding through the nexus of this realm and the one you once called home.

The mortal realm bows to your will. You can feel the beings of the Realm of Darkness funneling toward the broken gateways, pouring through to consume and conquer with the whisper of your glory on their tongues. Fear reigns supreme, consuming everything in its path as you expand your hold on the darkness.

“My Queen of Darkness,” the ephemeral coo caresses your ear, phantom lips brushing along your shadows. Yoongi’s darkness blends with yours, adding to the pulse that seeps to all corners of existence. “No longer will you fear, as you are fear itself…glorious, neverending fear.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-10-23 ColorMePurplex2

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Happy valentines ! Can I request dark chocolate for 5 and 8 please for Ace 🙏

This is lowkey a prequel to this one tbh

Yandere Ace x GN!Reader

1.3k words

Prompts:

You deserve this and more. Everything in the world, if you ask me.

If you don’t make a decision, I will.

Everyone tried to change your mind and discourage you from continuing your relationship with a certain pirate, but the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Well, to be fair, you’re not sure you could call it a relationship. You two were in the throws of a flirty, will-we-won’t-we phase. Ace was extremely charming in a goofy, boy next door sort of way, and you found it irresistible. He was something new and exciting in an otherwise boring town. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have as much fun with him as possible while you could. Sure, the rest of his crew was filled with other fun individuals that you’d also enjoyed getting to know, but Ace was a definitive favorite.

When he asked you to meet up with him in a secluded spot late at night, you eagerly agreed and spent all day looking forward to whatever he had in store for you. He seemed excited about it too, so you’re sure that it’s going to be something good. Given how wary everyone has been in regards to Ace, you told no one about it. The meeting would be a secret rendezvous between two maybe-lovers. At least that’s how you were seeing it.

After making sure you looked your absolute best, you snuck out of the village and headed for where Ace said to meet him. Your heart pounded in anticipation, wondering what the night would bring.

At the south end of the small island you lived on was a cliff face overlooking the beautiful expanse of the endless ocean. The spot was actually already a well established location for romantic rendezvous, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Ace was aware of that. Was it purely a coincidence, or had he done that intentionally?

Using the forest as a means to hide yourself from any prying eyes did make the trip a little longer than it needed to be, but you didn’t want to risk anyone you knew seeing and trying to stop you. The trees eventually started to thin out, and you could see the clearing of the cliff face peeking through the spaces. You pressed forward with a renewed energy, feeling giddy like a teenager with a crush.

The first thing that caught your eyes was Ace’s bright orange hat, it was impossible to miss. It seemed he had his back to you. Grinning mischievously, you reduce your light jog into a slow creep, careful not to make a noise in the brush as you close in on your unsuspecting love. In the last few steps, you lurch forward; crashing into his back and wrapping your arms tightly around his middle.

Ace yelped in surprise, but relaxed quickly upon hearing your familiar giggles. He squirmed around in your grip so he could face you. His strong arms circled around you, returning your gesture gently but firmly. You sank into him, nuzzling your face into the fabric of his yellow shirt and basking in the comfort of his scent. Notes of the sea, a campfire, and his natural musk.

“I’m glad you came, I was nervous that you wouldn’t show,” he spoke in a quiet voice. One of his fingers was tracing circles on your back soothingly.

“Of course I did, how could I ever pass up on this?”

His arms tightened and he chuckled, “You’re too kind to me.” Ace relinquished his hold on you, and you begrudgingly did the same. You finally properly took in your surroundings and noticed a blanket thrown over the ground near the cliff. A lit lantern and a basket sat on top of it. 

You squealed excitedly and hugged Ace again, “Is this a picnic? Oh, You didn’t have to do all this for me!”

“I wanted to do this for you. You deserve this and more. Everything in the world, if you ask me.” The words were spoken with such conviction and sincerity that it made your face hot to the touch and your heart flutter. How could any of your fellow villagers think of him as nothing more than some awful brute? He’s such a sweetheart.

He motioned for you to sit down and make yourself comfortable, and you had no reason to object. You’d been so preoccupied about tonight that you’d neglected to eat, so the late night meal was more than welcome. While you were happily digging in, you couldn’t help but notice that Ace wasn’t doing the same. All he did was pick at his food and occasionally steal glances at you. Upon looking a little more closely, you can see that he’s blushing.

Was this going to be it? Would he make your relationship official? 

Your staring didn’t go unnoticed. Ace made eye contact with you, only for his face to turn a deeper shade of red and look away. Feeling emboldened by what, in your opinion, was confirmation of your feelings being mutual, you scoot closer to him and link your arms around one of his..

“So… Did you bring me here so you could tell me something?” You’re far too eager to let this progress naturally, so you try to goad him on.

The tips of his ears now matched his face, but he found it in him to speak. “I did.” There was a pause as he mentally prepared himself for what was about to be said. With a shake of his head, the nervousness dissipated and shifted into determination. He turned to face you fully and took your hands in his. The skin was rough, but so warm that it teetered on the edge of hot.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can only gawk at him.

“I’ve met so many people, but no one has made me feel the way that you do. You’re so perfect that I feel wrong for even touching you, but I can’t help myself but want more of you. I know it’s selfish, but I need you. I need you by my side. So I need to ask you something.” Ace pulled you closer, resting his forehead against your own, “Will you come with me?”

The elation from his confession abruptly crashes down around you as the reality of the situation hits you. Could you really go with him? Could you leave everything behind for a man that you’ve only known for a week? As love struck as you are, it’s not enough to completely blind you from reason. 

Your hesitation and lack of a response punches Ace in the gut. His face falls and the heartbreak in his eyes almost makes you cave and agree. “You… You don’t feel the same.”

“N-No! That’s not it! I do feel the same! I mean- I love you, too. It’s just…” You trailed off as you struggled to articulate your dilemma and averted your gaze. “I don’t know that I can just up and leave so suddenly. My whole life is here… I need to think about it, okay?”

You look at his face once again, hoping to see understanding in his eyes. Rather than that, all you saw was hurt and betrayal, like he couldn’t believe your words. His hands still tightly grasped yours, but now they trembled. You wrack your mind to find the right words to sooth him, but you’re coming up blank.

“If you don’t make a decision, I will.”

The statement from Ace catches you entirely off guard. It… It almost sounded like a threat. The sparse lighting of the lantern only made his expression look more ominous. All you can do is stammer out a meek, “Excuse me?”

“We set sail tomorrow. If you haven’t made a decision by then, I will make it for you.” He finally let go of you and you were quick to put some distance in between you two. The warnings from your friends and family were starting to make a lot more sense.

“You’re going to be on that ship with me.” There was no question here, Ace appeared to already have his mind set on a specific outcome, and you’re afraid of what’s going to happen if you try and keep that from happening.

[probablyasocialecologist]

When you look at Instagram or Facebook, I want you to try and think of them less as social networks, and more as a form of anthropological experiment. Every single thing you see on either platform is built or selected to make you spend more time on the app and see more things that Meta wants you to see, be they ads, sponsored content, or suggested groups that you can interact with, thus increasing the amount of your “time spent” on the app, and increasing the amount of “meaningful interactions” you have with content. I also want you to realize that anything bad that you see on the platform is a symptom of Mark Zuckerberg’s unwillingness to rate-limit or sufficiently moderate the platform. Logically-speaking, one would think that Meta would want you to have a high-quality Facebook experience, pruning content that might be incendiary, spammy, scammy or unhelpful, or at the very least, comes primarily from those within your own network, but when your only concern is growth, content moderation is more of an emergency measure.  And to be clear, this is part of Meta’s cultural DNA. In an interview with journalist Jeff Horwitz in his book Broken Code, Facebook’s former VP of Ads and Partnerships Brian Bolland said that “building things is way more fun than making things secure and safe…[and] until there’s a regulatory or press fire, you don’t deal with it.”  Horwitz also cites that Meta engineers’ greatest frustration was that the company “perpetually [needed] something to fail — often fucking spectacularly — to drive interest in fixing it.” Horwitz’s book describes Meta’s approach to moderation as “having a light touch,” considering it “a moral virtue” and that the company “wasn’t failing to supervise what users did — it was neutral.” As I’ve briefly explained, the logic here is that the more stuff there is on Facebook or Instagram, the more likely you are to run into something you’ll interact with, even if said interaction is genuinely bad. Horwitz notes that in April 2016, Meta analyzed Facebook’s most successful political groups, finding that a third of them “routinely featured content that was racist and conspiracy-minded,” with their growth heavily-driven by Facebook’s “Groups You Should Join” and “Discover” features, algorithmic tools that Facebook used to recommend content. The researcher in question added that “sixty-four percent of all extremist group joins are due to our recommendation tools.” When the researcher took their concerns to Facebook’s “Protect and Care” team, they were told that there was nothing the team could do as “the accounts creating the content were real people, and Facebook intentionally had no rules mandating truth, balance or good faith.” Meta, at its core, is a rot economy empire, entirely engineered to grow metrics and revenue at the expense of anything else. In practice, this means allowing almost any activity that might “grow” the platform, even if it means groups that balloon by tens or hundreds of thousands of people a day, or allowing people to friend 50 or more people in a single day. It means allowing almost any content other than that which it’s legally required to police like mutilation and child pornography, even if the content it allows in makes the platform significantly worse.  As a result, Meta is kind of like an absentee parent, occasionally looking up from their phone and muttering “don’t do that” when something obviously awful happens, and even then they’re extremely hesitant to intervene. 

[lostyesterday]

There’s an ethical question in Star Trek I’ve seen several people here talk about that I’ve thought about a lot. Basically, what are the ethics of having a romantic or sexual relationship with a non-sentient holographic version of a real person? This issue is brought up several times in canon, but never dealt with well, in my opinion. The main canon discussions of this topic that I remember (and it’s possible I forgot something) are in Booby Trap (TNG) where Geordi has a very brief romantic relationship with a holographic version of a real woman he’s never met, in Hollow Pursuits (TNG) where Barclay presumably has romantic/sexual relationships with extremely out of character holographic versions of Deanna and Beverly, in Meridian (DS9) where a guy wants Quark to sell him a holographic version of Kira to have sex with, and in Human Error (VOY) where Seven has a semi-long-term romantic and sexual relationship with a holographic version of Chakotay.

So, first of all, I don’t think that any of those instances mentioned are morally okay. Booby Trap is the most complicated case morally speaking since, to my memory, Geordi didn’t intentionally initiate anything romantic, though he didn’t stop it once it started either. I don’t want to imply that what Geordi did is morally as bad as the other examples I’m discussing, especially since Geordi is the only character of color being discussed here and his actions are not really equivalent in intention or impact to the other characters’. As an episode, Booby Trap doesn’t seem to have a clear idea of whether or not what Geordi is doing is unethical. In fact, it felt to me as if that question wasn’t something that occurred to the writers at all (until Galaxy’s Child, but that’s a whole other thing and the hologram portion of it is arguably the least messed up thing there, so I’m ignoring it in relation to this topic). Hollow Pursuits does portray what Barclay does negatively, but I feel like the episode is much more concerned with the negative emotional effects this has for Barclay rather than for Deanna and Beverly. Meridian, from what I remember, is the only episode to portray this situation as definitively bad, and Kira is portrayed as justified in being angry. However, the episode is a mess in other ways and does not explore the topic with nuance, making light of it with humor when I think it needed to be taken more seriously. Human Error is in some ways the most baffling case here because what Seven does is portrayed almost positively, as something that is a potentially good step in Seven’s “social development”. Apparently, there is no thought given to what Chakotay would think of the situation. I’ve seen people suggest that the narrative and fandom treatment of Seven versus the other characters is a gendered double standard, which I do think makes sense.

But the problem here isn’t having a sexual/romantic relationship with a hologram, the problem is that the person didn’t consent to having their holographic image used this way. There’s obviously nothing wrong with having sex or a relationship with a hologram not based on anyone’s image, or based on the image of someone who gave clear consent to have their image used in that way. But using someone’s image this way without their consent is pretty obviously analogous to making nonconsensual porn of someone. Do the ethics of this situation change if the hologram is of a historical figure? What about a famous person who is still alive? I don’t necessarily have answers here, but I do think the situation can become more complicated.

And then there’s another factor to consider – is the sexual/romantic relationship the biggest issue here? In the cases of Hollow Pursuits and Human Error, Barclay and Seven’s simulations of the crew are much more extensive than just the romantic/sexual portions. Would it have been all right for Barclay to create potentially offensive and demeaning holographic versions of his crewmates if there was no romantic/sexual component? Would it be okay for Seven to recreate a version of every Voyager crew member and live out an intricate alternate life with them without any of their consent if she never had romantic/sexual relationships with any of them? Is it any less a violation of someone’s rights to use their image without consent for, say, a propaganda campaign for an issue they disagree with, or a story that portrays their holographic version as a horrible person? That second scenario is the plot of the Voyager episode Author Author. This episode seems to take the moral stance that it’s bad for the Doctor to use the images of his fellow Voyager crew members to portray horrible characters, but there are other questions it doesn’t raise. Would it have been okay for the Doctor to use their images without consent if he had portrayed their holographic versions positively? What is the line between an acceptable and unacceptable usage of another person’s image without their consent? Is it ever okay to use a person’s holographic image without their consent? Is such consent implied when a person agrees to holographic scans of their body? What exactly is one consenting to when they consent to have a holographic version of themself created? I don’t necessarily have answers to these questions, I just wish any of these episodes had explored these issues with more nuance. And I do think that it’s important to consider extending the question of consent here beyond sex and romance.

[admiringtheskies]

okay, so The Hyperfixation Is Hyperfixating, clearly, and honestly im just gonna continue going with it bc THEM— *screams* ANYWAYS @frownyalfred uhhhhhh hope you enjoy this as well! without further ado, another idea inspired by the incomparable ✨borderline✨ that just would NOT leave me alone until i got it all down into actual real words:

at some point further in the timeline of borderline'verse, when they've finally got the whole situation mostly under control, the batfam (whenever they accompany bruce, or multiple kids go together by themselves so they're in batclan mode, to do jl/other crossover shit) sort of ends up just doing the whole Bat-Danger-Aura thing, like, Constantly; somewhat unintentionally, but also with not much effort really made to rein it in, bc they do think the reactions are hilarious lol. and like, the thing is, they were ALREADY doing it pre-bond, pretty much right from whenever dick, jason, or both made their first appearance w bruce outside of gotham and first established the existence of mini-bats for the outside world — i mean, that sense of leashed power, as well as the eerie synchronicity and ability to communicate in the tiniest of gestures, was really just a natural consequence of the crime-fighting codependency and the training bruce put them through, originally. (as you may be able to tell, i have an Extremely Normal Amount of Feelings about the concept of cryptid batfam <3). but WITH the bond?? i mean, the kids are all connected to each other, yes, but their primary connections are all to BRUCE, and once they've had time to adjust, and set + actually semi-consistently enforce some basic boundaries, they absolutely take pride in using that to it's fullest advantage (that they're capable of while not intentionally compromising anybody's autonomy, anyways).

and like… OP's already touched on this in earlier chapters briefly a few times, but i NEED a thorough exploration of the idea of bruce seeing this change in them, seeing them subconsciously incorporate even just these little subtle mannerisms, and feeling so fucking guilty about it and spiraling bc he's terrified that all of his self-destructive qualities [that he's painfully aware of in himself] will transfer over to the children, who somehow never seem to realize that how proud and grateful they make him when they demonstrate their DIFFERENCES from him in those regards. and he's just so scared that he'll somehow ruin the few parts of them he thinks he's miraculously managed to avoid 'tainting' with his mentorship/fatherhood until now… …and meanwhile the kids are about to start crying because dad no what the fuck,,, but also facepalming a little bit bc jesus CHRIST, B, did you never even stop to consider the fact that you're just… really fuckin smart and skilled and know how to do a frankly ungodly amount of Cool Shit that we all share an interest in, and we were excited to have the chance to copy more of that shit too?! just, even beyond the great mental image of the Danger Walk, what really got me about that scene was just... his two oldest boys, who are already so much like him, not hesitating for a SECOND to gleefully take the chance to match his behavior even MORE perfectly, and wanting to know where he learned something as (relatively, by their standards) simple as the Serious Business Walk, and wanting to share that memory because it's just fuckin cool, y'all! like, to be clear, i absolutely respect the fact that, at least by the time that they're entering adulthood/in the prime of their mental and physical youth, any of the batkids are pretty much on, or definitely rapidly approaching, the same level as bruce in general badassery — and they probably each have 1 or 2 specific skillsets in which they can and do surpass him. but at the same time, you CANNOT convince me that, at any given point in the established DC timeline, there exists a non-bruce batfam character who can really look at bruce (like his personality, his aforementioned ridiculous skillset, i mean everything about him) and not see at least ONE quality in him that they aspire to. maybe it's something they already have and just can't see in themselves, maybe it's more a projection of something one of their other siblings has and shares with bruce, maybe it's just some skill, some random combat move, that he doesn't need very often, and so when he does use it, it briefly reminds them that "holy shit, he's The Fucking Batman" — but there's always SOMETHING there, some reason that even when they're having trouble communicating or arguing or emotions are running high, they'll never truly lose that respect for him that compels these ridiculously independent, self-sufficient people to willingly follow him: to listen to him, to trust him, and to keep themselves ready to unite under his lead. because nobody can argue that they are a clan, whose purpose comes from being first united under the guidance and protection and love of the bat.

[quietwingsinthesky]

people are saying he « led her on » because he did. the fact that he kissed her in the first episode set the tone for the rest of the season and if you can’t perceive the flirting I’m sorry but how?? he didn’t make anything clear he sent the craziest mixed signals in the world. there’s nothing revolutionary about claiming that Martha was being pushy toward someone who was clearly not interested it’s 1) weird to claim in what it suggests about her 2) factually not true.

I wasn’t gonna respond to this at first because the top half of this ask is pretty much just individual interpretation and I don’t really care about it. Like, no, to me, the Doctor doesn’t seem especially flirty towards Martha. He’s just sort of Like That. That’s his damage, you know, Mr. I need to traumadump on anyone who tolerates being around me for more than five minutes. Mr. If I don’t develop an intensely codependent emotional bond with the companion I have currently I’ll die. It doesn’t read to me as him trying to lead her on because that bit’s honest, and he does it with damn near every companion he’s ever had.

And if nothing else, because we do see Ten when he tries to flirt intentionally and he’s a fuckin dork about it. Kind of guy who looked up romance in the dictionary and took notes. Kinda guy who draws diagrams to maximize kissing potential. It would have been obvious even to me (<- romance-blind as all fuck) if he was flirting with Martha on purpose because he’s not smooth at all; he flirts like he’s gotten lines in a play and he’s super excited to be the main star.

But anyway, as I was saying, that’s just how I see it. And if you see it different, no skin off my back, I just disagree.

But I take umbrage with you putting words in my mouth. I never said Martha was pushy towards him. Because yeah, she’s not. If I implied that she was, then it was a result of poor phrasing on my part. Martha’s not at fault for what she feels, for wanting there to come something of it. No more at fault than the Doctor is for not returning those feelings. It’s a bit weird that you’re assuming that I think one of them has to be the bad guy here when that was the opposite of what I was saying. My point was: When it comes to their romantic subtext of their relationship, it’s weird to pretend like either of them are to blame for them not being in a relationship at the end of s3, and even weirder to assert that as part of why Martha supposedly wouldn’t like the Doctor afterwards when they’re. friends. they continue to be friends into s4.

Martha’s not pushy. She has a crush on her friend. It happens. He doesn’t return it. This also happens. Both of these facts are pushed to the extreme because he’s a time-traveling alien with poor emotional skills and she’s put herself in the position of needing to help him from minute one of meeting each other. That’s why it’s fun to watch, because the Doctor is both so open and so unavailable in turns, because Martha’s feelings for him grow and change as she knows more about her Doctor until she decides to step back.

I don’t know, man. You seem to be coming at this as if one of them has to be The Problem™️. I don’t think either of them is, not so definitively. I think boiling their relationship down to that is reductive and an insult to the way they both grow over s3, to Martha’s choice to continue to be his friend while also establishing her own boundaries, to the fact that the Doctor is able to let her go without immediately trying to kill himself afterwards when she’s not there to catch him.

[leolithe]

this has been sitting in my drafts forever so i'm just gonna post it!!! these are my Plural Lotus headcanons that are Integral to my interpretation of them

Lotus represents balance while Natah and Margulis represent extremes, but she also represents Acceptance in The Sacrifice. So it makes sense that Lotus is the most passive, or "watching and waiting" one of the three

Lotus is also the most withdrawn and cautious one because she's the one who holds the trauma of every event leading to The New War. From her kidnapping in Apostasy Prologue, she was Lotus-turned-Margulis. From the Sacrifice to her death in New War, she was Lotus-turned-Natah.

After holding back Wally, Lotus fainting was a direct result of realising that the war was over. That she was finally free. That she could finally get the rest she desperately needed. And her entire body took that realisation and completely shut down. The need for rest was that dire.

This is when Natah and Margulis start to awaken. In the epilogue, when the Operator and Drifter are asking Lotus Radiant questions, Natah and Margulis also answer at the same time, each with their own insight and inflections. This is what leads to Lotus saying that she hears voices.

Natah was just as dead as Margulis when her body was reprogrammed. (Jovian Concord monologue: "I became a memory, a ghost"). Therefore, Lotus was formed from a blank slate of a (powerful) Sentient husk and Margulis' memory.

Natah, being the Sentient body personified, is able to access everyone's memories at will. She can also read everyone's minds, while still being able to focus perfectly on the present/outer world. She uses this to watch over Lotus and monitor her wellbeing.

Natah hates accessing or reading Margulis' mind though. She does not enjoy the imperfect, inaccurate, messy nature of Human memory. So she leaves Margulis alone for the most part.

Because she sees everyone's memories, Natah is the first to realize that she was formed to protect the Lotus. She takes the role of prosecutor, and she's very fiercely protective. Natah places much more weight in remembering the trauma rather than suppressing it like Margulis did.

Margulis is someone Lotus remembers for caring for and loving the Tenno, so she was formed with the intent of having a caretaker in the Lotus system. She's best at grounding Lotus, whispering soothing words to her and generally being a gentle and comforting presence.

There is very clear friction between the way Natah and Margulis handle their roles. Natah's decisiveness can be pushed into being cutthroat and stubborn, and Margulis' healing can veer into unrealistic idealism. Natah doesn't like how Margulis encourages Lotus to neglect her traumatic memories, and Margulis doesn't like Natah's insistence on forcing her to remember. They both think the other is pushing back Lotus' progress; Natah by intentionally surfacing painful memories and Margulis by exposing Lotus' weak points to the same aggressor again.

Very much a fight between, "If you don't remember how it damaged you, it will always happen again" vs "It will never happen again, you're safe and free to live like it never did"

Natah vs Margulis isn't only about Power vs Healing/Destroying the enemy vs Protecting your allies... it's about Remembrance vs Oblivion in regards to distress and trauma.

Lotus gets intermittently pulled around by these two for a while, until Margulis' comforting lies become unignorable and Natah's ruthlessness becomes unbearable. And when Lotus finally snaps and asserts herself to them... it's a wake up slap to both Natah and Margulis. This marks the point where they start quietly trying to work together... pushing past their rivalry to then FINALLY. Explore each other's bodies. Sentient-Human headmate style.

Thank you for reading. I can go on and on but I'm just gonna leave u with the mental image of Lotus walking in on Natah and Margulis having ravenous floor sex because they've actually never fucked a woman in their lives and they're not normal about it

[ultraviolet-cello]

Gooooood morning Trigun fandom, I'm up bright and early, ready to sink my teeth into today's analysis/detailed watchthrough episode - 11. To A New World.

I can't believe we're almost done with @tristampparty. These 12 days have been a blast and I'm very glad that I got to chat abt them!! I've been in a bout of artblock recently too, so I'm glad that I can just ramble instead!

Spoilers for Trigun Stampede and Trigun Maximum, and CWs for. okay this one is a Lot, but discussion of violation of bodily autonomy, sexual assault and trauma, pregnancy, transphobia, harm coming to children, Millions Knives in general, Vash's passive suicidal tendencies. If I think of any more I'll pop them up here but this episode is a heavy one!

If you wanna skip those first few CWs (Totally understandable <3), you can skip the paragraphs labelled with a [CW] at the front.

[CW] Okay so we're gonna tail off the end of Episode 10 for a second, but uh. Knives in this scene is using extremely Loaded Language to outright tell Vash that there is something wrong with him that needs to be fixed.

Just to be clear I do think Vash is very trans-coded (intentionally or not), and that very strongly influences how I interpret this scene - I myself am a trans man as well.

Cool, moving on! That's all really for the end of ep 10, I just needed to point out that Knives is using language that is commonly used to justify corrective sexual assault; which is pretty much what my reading of this scene is analogous to.

what in the fresh hell i got jumpscared by dub again. returning to subs hold on a moment. Like i've been checking dub occasionally to match up some dialogue and make sure I'm not being misled by Subtitle Jank but I'm one of those guys who can't listen to anything without subtitles lmao

But i also think i do get the funniest possible translation of this line - actually wait no i hate the double meaning (with Vash's body being used to kickstart the pregnancy imagery). was that intentional. who did this.

Anyway Meryl kicking Wolfwood is really funny but also like. Yeah. justified. She's having a no good awful time but like. She's so willing to believe in Vash, to chase after him even into Extremely Dangerous conditions (There's those hints of Trimax Meryl again....) and Wolfwood is being an ass here. (An understandable ass. But an ass nonetheless). Which is to say YEAHHH MERYL GET HIS ASS!!!

Knives' gay little like. bodysuit here. He and Vash have the same build but their respective clothes make them stand out very differently. Also that Knives' stuff seems to have more muscle definition (HYDRATE. You shouldn't have that Knives you need water :pensive:) which could be building towards his more intimidating appearance.

Also I'd be a fool to not show everyone my initial reaction to this

I've talked a little bit about how Vash uses his gun as a tonfa (thwacky baton) most of the time in melee combat, and I think that's a great way to show him utilizing something Knives gave him to Kill as a nonlethal weapon - in this, however, he doesn't have it and his normally very fluid very good form martial arts is flailing and panicked. Vash is pretty good at keeping his cool in most combat situations, and is a very skilled fighter. Seeing him lose that cool and just start struggling when Knives tries to grab him is :(

Once again the metal/organic dichotomy is coming into play - the creation of inorganic but the destruction that comes from the organic. Typically plant (as in flora) powers in media lend themselves to being creation powers, life, and healing. But Vash here has that plant (flora) theme but those are very much a force for destruction.

Also Knives with the angelic white, and Vash with the black.

I hate Conrad So Much (he's such a good character). Like we Know to some extent that dependent plants are self-aware enough to feel pain, to hold onto memories, to hatred, to love. They don't have consciousness the same way humans or Independents do, but they feel, they live, they understand what Vash tells them. Maybe it is a shallow form of themselves. But I think something a lot of people fail to realize is that (some, not all, because they are individuals even throughout a hivemind) plants appear to enjoy their purpose.

Once again the memory that is shared with Knives in Trimax of a woman and her child thanking the plant for her service and she smiles? After being fused, that plant held onto that memory. I've been given no reason to believe that plants in Tristamp are different, so Conrad is just,,, ignoring the subtleties of plants and taking away their agency to choose for themselves. Doubly so for Knives, who can communicate efficiently with them.

A very quick blink and you'll miss it detail is that Vash says "It was our fault humans crashed here!". The shifting blame and guilt between the two is something that is fighting the narrative allll the time, but Vash attributing to both of them as an appeal to Knives is interesting to relay how he feels.

I also don't think Vash is right, though, when he says the only reason humans abuse plants is because they crashed. Tesla was before, Chronica in Trimax has apparently seen independent fusions before (For what reason?). Like yeah to this extent it's a result of the big fall, but there'd still be problems without it. Nobody is right in this argument lmao

(except me. I'm always correct about everything ever)

[CW] Once again - violating Vash's consent and autonomy because he does not agree with or differs from Knives. Corrective violation, in this case. It's also important that it's Meryl who calls this out - she has to really really struggle for her autonomy to be important. She's small, carry-able, inexperienced, doesn't have any special powers or genetic modification. She's carrying a tiny gun from a man who can never back her up anymore. In fact, nobody is backing her up! She's out here alone! But she's sticking up for Vash. She cares about him,,,, so much

SURPRISE ROBERTO ATTACK [sobs]

Meryl pulled the nail out of him and placed his hands gently over the wound, as one might do in a casket. A memorial of cigarettes and his flask. All this will be destroyed soon, but Meryl did give him a funeral to the best of her ability.

Knives using Roberto's image is cruel as hell. Not to Vash but to ME. He's already dead you can't do this to meeee. "How do you think they'll react when they learn you caused the big fall" He will never learn it!! he never got the chance!!!

So fun fact you can actually eat geraniums. It's just that if Rem had said yes Vash probably would have eaten it right there and then. I've made that mistake before (told one of my class that nasturtiums were edible and he just ate one. right from the plant)

So; the Tesla scene. Something I do want to point out is that Rem finds them almost immediately, and Knives doesn't immediately pass out - Is he still catatonic enough to miss Rem's speech, or did he hear it? Because the reason that Vash turned out like he did is because he was awake to go through that with Rem - Knives was unconscious the entire time and didn't get to start that trauma recovery.

It's also important to recognize that these memories could be unreliable, especially as Knives tampers with them later.

I do want to know which version of the Bible Knives was reading. Because depending on translation/version, you can get Very different ideas out of that.

Anyway Knives is kind of beginning his spiral in that memory - "Humanity never learns" kinda shit, which seems to take place after Tesla. Who knows how long. But baby Vash calls that out and goes "yeah lets have faith"! Baby Knives looks a tad shocked and then Present Knives just. Cuts off the memory. What was the ensuing conversation!!! Hello???

Like he's clearly Having Thoughts (The Horror), we just don't get to know what those were.

So remember when I said it was interesting that Vash said it was "our" fault that the ships crashed, sharing the blame?

Yeah that gave Knives some ammo that just. Broke him. Shifts it allllll to Vash. Update Vash's description to running on 18 guilt complexes, CPTSD, and bisexuality.

[CW] There's so many different forms of assault, metaphorical and. Not. That is happening in this scene from mind violation to Knives literally using Vash's (specifically Vash's) body as a vessel to impregnate other plants which. Hey did you know that pregnancy is a massive fear of a lot of trans men. So many transphobes reduce trans men to their capability to have children, as if that's all they're good for (even if it would kill them.), and that often leads to corrective rape in order to "remind them of biological reality". In this case, Vash is a plant, he's meant to create, and yet he doesn't. But he's still being used to create anyway.

Again, Meryl also directly calls out Vash's lack of consent and gets shot down by Conrad. The whole scene is just. Hgnrhgnhrhnrnrn. It's So,,, everything to me, because it's a really good scene and shows you how far gone Knives is in Tristamp.

There are panels in Trimax that are,,, the imagery is there, but it's very overt in Tristamp.

Also hey yeah. Why is Conrad still alive?? Did he have access to cold sleep? or it's probably the robotics but did he not think of enhancing humans that way? It might just be a temporary solution, I guess, given that he is. Actively coughing up blood.

Alright! I have finished this part of the analysis that I always Feel Strongly about lmao - I have fun doing it but that's such an emotionally heavy episode.

[fanonical]

I see your point about June (and June is my favorite too). And I've definitely seen people headcanoning trans boy John out of really blatant spite, and complaining about June in a way that felt extremely pointed, like her mere existence is an insult and a source of hurt.

Buuuut on the other hand, many people loved transfem Roxy for a long time before the Epilogues, and I think it's fine and fair for them (... okay, us) to feel fleetingly disappointed that Roxy is transmasc in the Epilogues. I also think it's fine and fair to continue headcanoning Roxy as transfem, because the Epilogues were very explicitly in-text framed as one possible continuation out of many. I won't lie, I just love that t4t f/f Roxygen.

So my line of thinking is, it's probably still fine and fair to also love trans guy John, if people are inclined that way. It's more about the way that they do it? If you're finding yourself framing June as some kind of invasion on your holy safe space by the mean and terrible new writers of Homestuck, you need to take a step back and reexamine the transmisogynist bias there, and most importantly you need to stop being so goddamn rude to the people making art that just isn't for you. But on the other hand, I think simply ignoring the Epilogues and doing your own thing with trans boy John and his shaving cream trauma, that to me is perfectly in line with - and in fact respectful of - the spirit of the Epilogues.

(Similarly, I don't think it'd be bad to do a reading of the TUA comics where Vanya is a trans girl; I don't even think it'd be bad to write an AU genderswap of the TUA show universe where Viktor is a trans girl, though I'd greatly prefer if other characters' gender was changed too in that case.) (For example, I'd enjoy a full swap where A and V Hargreeves were the only "boys" growing up, and then V transitions and A is left all alone with his masculinity and he lets it steep into resentment. Also, sometimes you want trans girls with violins blowing up the world.)

Right, I hear what you’re saying but I think there’s a couple of key differences here

First of all, we know for a fact that Roxy being transmasc was prompted by a transmasc writer who was repeatedly & horribly transmisogynistic about transfem headcanons, so I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to assume that he really did specifically hate transfem Roxy headcanons out of spite so much that he made it an impossible reading in both timelines. But even then — I do think that if somebody specifically just decided Roxy is transfem and everything else from the Epilogues is the same (or magically headcanoned away as making sense somehow) then they would be intentionally misunderstanding & rejecting the text too. Like, that’s ok, that’s literally what a large part of fandom is, but the reasons for doing this are not neutral, and they reflect hegemonies & wider values.

In the case of transfem Roxy the point is to pointedly reject something we think is transmisogynistic — we have been teased with transfem Roxy for years, it’s an obvious & clear reading of her relationship to Callie in Act 6, and so I think it’s a legitimate criticism of the Epilogues. Meanwhile, there straight has not been years of hints for transmasc John, in fact, to headcanon June as transmasc you have to pointedly ignore her already extant queer narrative.

I also think you either misunderstand or are intentionally misunderstanding how alternate realities work in The Homestuck Epilogues & Homestuck Beyond Canon. They are not just one continuation out of many — there is only the two as far as I’m aware. I’m not up to date with HSBC but it’s my understanding that reality was cleft in two.

i agree with you on the Umbrella Academy! because this is something that has been like rebooted to switch things up, those characters are gonna get remixed. i’d love to see a transfem Vanya somewhere down the line. but if i only blogged about the tv show and i was constantly & loudly explaining how i prefer transfem Vanya and how she should be transfem in the show then I think that would obviously be in poor taste.

i think what bothers me is the boldness of so many men to be like “idk i just prefer this as a man character” right in the replies of posts where transfems are gushing about/sharing their transfem headcanons. I can’t even talk about June being trans without a few people saying that, and that’s actually confirmed as 100% happening, so it’s even more impossible to escape with like transfem Link headcanons etc.

i think all in all, transmascs, trans boys & trans men should try and leave more space for their sisters in the community. it is not subversive to wish every character was a man. just misogynistic. leave room for transfems, trans girls & trans women in fandom and beyond, folks.

[sprout-senior]

my personal headcanon for how monsters procreate in utmv/utdr: the babies just appear.

enough magic and intent from minimum two monsters will make a baby, it doesn’t matter what kind of intent etc(thinking of how PJ happened as a result of a battle between an alternate ink and error)

so there’s no incubation period. due to this, babies are that much more reliant on their parents for the first couple years of their life. basically proximity to their parents is vital to their physical and magical development; they CAN survive with only one parent’s presence, but it causes problems(i am yet again bringing up PJ and how they were raised primarily by ink for the first few years, don’t have a super solid physical form, and aren’t very powerful despite having two gods for parents. obviously my personal reasoning for this is not canon btw)

this period of necessary proximity to their parents does not HAVE to be the original monsters responsible for their creation. they can develop just fine with “surrogate” parents, given the magic bonds successfully. they CANNOT survive without consistent parents, for lack of better phrasing. if left alone or passed between caretakers too much over a long enough period of time, the baby will Fall Down and subsequently dust. fucked up i know but it’s my worldbuilding headcanon and i get to pick the rules

babies can bond with more than two parents! there isn’t a known maximum amount of parents, since no one has really tried to push the limits, but with several parents the baby will paradoxically take longer to develop their specific type of magic(their physical development is not stunted, but their personal magic takes longer because their soul has to “pick” between several different types of magic to base itself on)

once they’re around two, the baby’s magic type is “locked in”, so to speak. if there are several parents, it can take as long as three or four years in comparison. their power level is influenced by their parents, but not entirely dependent on them. some kids just have more of an affinity for magic, for no discernible reason.

part of what i really like about this headcanon is that gender and species are not factors in making a stable child! incest is still weird tho, i am not a fan of incest in any capacity. also, this means no monster has to deal with the absolute nightmare that is pregnancy. no morning sickness, extreme pain, risk of life, etc is involved. lucky bastards (obligatory “disclaimer this is not to discount the experience of anyone who has had good experiences with pregnancy and have things they really like about it. just bc i can’t personally empathize doesn’t mean i can’t understand that y’all’s experiences are vastly different than mine and you have a perspective informed by things i’ll never have the same level of knowledge and understanding of”)

uhhh that’s the main stuff, i think. literally the entire reason i came up with this idea is because i am just. deeply uncomfortable with mpreg and skelepreg. i don’t have any problem with people who DO like it, i just personally can’t deal. this will not affect my opinion of anybody, i need to make that abundantly clear.

in any case, any utmv/utdr monsters i make will have been born and developed this way. yes this applies to female mammal monsters, it applies to ALL monsters in my personal headcanon. maybe i don’t need to clarify that but whatever

if you like this idea, you’re more than welcome to adopt it! i think it’s an interesting piece of lore to incorporate in stories. i might even apply this to magic centered original works, unrelated to utmv/utdr, because i have become attached. i might not end up pursuing original stories, that’s not really what i’m interested in at this point in time, but i’ll always keep the option open.

if someone else has come up with an idea similar to this, that’s awesome! i promise i did not intentionally steal anyone’s idea, i am not currently aware of anything like it, so please extend some courtesy and understanding for me in the event that there’s a coincidence. i would request the same for if someone comes up with something similar AFTER this is posted, especially since i’m such a small creator without a whole lot of reach.

finally, if i’ve accidentally done something problematic here PLEASE tell me so i can fix it! i never want to cause harm with my work :)

if you’ve read this far, thanks! id love to hear your opinions and/or additions if you’ve got any!

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Glugreng

My apologies for posting a bit later than usual -- I was on the road most of the day for eclipse-viewing purposes, so it's already nighttime as I start this. (Update: and also Firefox crashed multiple time over the process of writing this post.) Anyway, we've got another vaguely-described bird, but one that I think has some interesting details.

If anyone isn't sure what this post is about, you can find an explanation at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. If you want to see the entry from which the artists are working, here is the link:

And in general you can see all of this stuff as it posts at the tag "maniculum bestiaryposting", assuming Tumblr's search function wants to show it to you.

Art below the cut:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) continues to post very impressively-rendered beasts. Here, since the only physical detail we have about this bird is "white", they've decided to take inspiration from the fact that it is kept by royal households. Medieval nobility did keep birds, usually for falconry, so here we have a raptorial design. And look, it's caught a fish! Good work, bird.

@pomrania (link to post here) observes that cataract-curing excrement is probably pretty valuable and worth collecting, so here we see a bowl with a dollar sign placed under the bird's perch. Honestly my favorite part of this is the very intense, extremely-close-up eye contact depicted in the middle there. Something about the bird needing (or just choosing) to get really up in one's personal space in order to do the curative "looking in the face" thing is charming to me.

@kaerran (link to post here) also went in the direction of "what kind of bird would be hanging around royal households" and landed on peafowl. There are a couple really clever design decisions here: it intentionally has very visible eyes so it's extra clear whether it's looking at you, and the "burning off the sickness" thing is represented as the feathers from its train being shed. (And thank you for including alt text.)

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) went in an interesting artistic direction, I think: since the entry was very clear that the Glugreng is "white all over", she rendered it entirely in thick white paint -- I think the texture is quite cool. Also I love the crown-collar-thing; SweetlyFez notes that she's only seen that in heraldry, and I think that is the only place it really appears. (I've seen at least one piece of marginalia that had an animal wearing a crown as a collar, but I'm like 80% sure that's someone's heraldic device being put in the illustrations for whatever reason.)

@cheapsweets (link to post here) jumpscared me a bit with this one. More very intense eye contact, but this time directed at the viewer. They also made the connection royalty -> falconry, and drew a bird of prey. For more details on their thought process, please see the linked post. I like the very intense eye contact conceptually, but also I keep scrolling down so it stops Looking At Me.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has again drawn something that makes me smile -- the art style is of course amazing, and the straight-on view of the pelican just looks so charmingly goofy. They note that pelicans have "so much convenient space to store all your pesky illnesses," and now all I can think of is a medical version of that "Put Baby In Pelican Mouth" post. (And thank you for including alt text.)

@strixcattus (link to post here) was inspired by the bestiary's decision to state that the bird is "white all over" and "has no black parts" in the same sentence. Weirdly specific, right? So they decided to explore in their post why this repetition might be necessary -- regular readers of these posts may recall that Strixcattus writes modern-naturalist-style reinterpretations of these animals. I'm not going to tell you what they came up with. Go read the linked post. Do it.

In fact, you should read all the linked posts, and consider following any or all of the wonderful artists who choose to participate in this weird little exercise.

All right, Aberdeen Bestiary time. A couple people said in their entry that they think they know what this one is, and I am excited to learn what their guesses were.

Now, since this artist tends to draw raptors in a very standardized way -- this just looks like their eagle but all white -- it's probably not possible to recognize the bird in question from this illustration. However, of course, there's a much larger problem in the way of recognizing this species:

This entry is the caladrius, which does not exist. It's another one of those mythical critters that didn't really catch on in the modern era -- or a strange misunderstanding of a real animal, like the salamander was, but honestly those aren't so much distinct categories as far as I'm concerned.

On the other hand, if you have similar Internet Experiences to me, you might have recognized it just now -- as soon as I saw the Aberdeen Bestiary illustration, I had a moment of "hang on, is that..."

The above is from the 2015 article "Two Medieval Monks Invent Bestiaries" on The Toast. You can check it out here:

(The author is now Daniel M. Lavery, but the byline on the linked article still says "Daniel Mallory Ortberg", probably because The Toast has been defunct for several years so nobody is updating these things.)

Anyway, the "bedbird" is indeed the caladrius. I was able to find the image from the Two Monks article by looking through the gallery attached to the "caladrius" entry on bestiary.ca (which has 94 examples, so it's clearly reasonably widespread). The bedbird comes from British Library MS Sloane 3544. And... I'm going to leave it up to y'all whether you think this should end with the "i've connected the two dots" gif or that quotation about the mystery no one thought was a mystery. It's late, goodnight.

[ultratradmalewife]

Different anon here replying to one of your other anons. One thing I want to emphasize is that BuckTommy fans TRIED to be friendly with Buddies. We really did. In fact, all we did was post celebratory posts about Buck's bisexuality, talk about how much we loved him with Tommy, discussed what headcanons we had, in addition to the hopes we had for the future of their relationship. The large majority of BuckTommy fans were and still are fans of Eddie. The large majority of us LOVE Buck's relationship with Eddie, even if many of us only see it as platonic. We've never seen Eddie as a threat, nor have we set out to vilify and attack Buddie fans for not liking Tommy or wanting him to be with Buck. But the same CANNOT be said about Buddies. It became very clear, very fast, that Buddies were threatened by Buck's relationship with Tommy, and because of that, they quickly began antagonizing BuckTommy shippers. Calling us horrific racial slurs, being disgustingly homophobic and biphobic, accusing us of fetishizing Buck with Tommy because "we're slaves to white men" and "love calling white men massa" (real fucking quotes said many times by Buddies), intentionally posting what initially seem like positive posts in our tag, only to throw us a curveball at the end by basically saying "Psych!" with something extremely rude and anti-BuckTommy. They even post fanfiction that is presented as being all about BuckTommy, only to kill Tommy off at the end or have Buck break up with him and then have Buck get with Eddie. And they laugh about all of that, over and over, in the BuckTommy tag. All this to say, it can get deeply, deeply frustrating when people, especially so-called decent Buddie fans (because they can't tell me they don't witness the shit their fellow Buddie members pull on the daily), try to "both sides" this situation and accuse BuckTommy fans of being just as problematic and incapable of civility as Buddies. No, no, no. BuckTommy fans have been nothing like Buddies, and to try portraying us as an equal part of the problem feels like an extremely bad faith take meant to downplay the toxicity of Buddie shippers while vilifying BuckTommy fans for, God forbid, calling Buddies out on their abhorrent behavior. Because that's what the large majority of BuckTommy's anger consists of--defending our IDENTITIES against disgusting personal attacks, and, again, God forbid, daring to call Buddies out when they relentlessly, CONSTANTLY twist their head canons into "fact", misrepresent the truth over and over again, and then try to portray anyone who disagrees with them as stupid and beneath them. That's toxic ass behavior, and BuckTommy fans shouldn't have to sing "Kumbaya" for the sake of civility so some of you guys can feel comfortable, not when Buddies are committed to being cruel and disgusting at every turn. And I haven't even touched on the fact that BuckTommy fans are not the ones harassing the showrunner and actors, and trying to get an actor FIRED by misrepresenting what he said and trying to twist it into something actually really gross and fucked up, just so they can try to get what they want. So some of you guys can positively miss me with the "both sides" attempt. The only thing I WILL say about BuckTommy fans is that we do need to make a bigger attempt at ignoring Buddies. We can get a little TOO caught up in what the Buddies are saying and doing to us. But on the other hand, BuckTommy fans have a right to defend ourselves, especially when the attacks are constantly real fucking personal and don't even have anything to DO with shipping.

I agree with all of what you said. I know how things happened. I had even said there’s no reason for the Bucktommy side of the fandom to start a ship war, it all started with die hard Buddies, and I don’t usually see the ones who play both sides because I blocked them. There’s no reason in talking to them because they’re either just as scared of Buddies or don’t want confrontation. I also know people who want to play both sides are just people telling BuckTommy fans how to react, and they’re never telling Buddies how to act. I agree with you 100% on that and those are the people I block.

I’ve also been told I’m racist because I hate Eddie and Mexicans (I don’t), by people who either don’t know or don’t care that I’m Mexican (100% both parents born there and so was I).

I made a whole post explaining how Buddies have been homophobic when they tried to downplay their homophobia to simply cropping Lou from pictures. I know the slang and words that they tried to attach to him and the community. Those people are also blocked.

Now, like I told last anon I’m not trying to bridge that gap. You can see some of my own past posts how petty I can be to the die hard buddies. I am one person and I’m not going to change a whole fandom of toxicity. All I can do is block and search for those who can make my experience here a peaceful and fun one.

So far I haven’t made any friends here. There’s no DMs and it’s just been likes and comments on posts. I try reaching out to Buddie shippers who I think could be pals, and they never respond, or if I mention Tommy it’s dead silent afterwards (ironically the thing they claim to hate that Tommy did to Chimney is what they do to me), and I don’t try again. Most of the buddie shippers who I briefly talk to are ones who have seen how crazy their side of the fandom have started acting. Some of them have even “jumped ship” because of that.

I’m not here to make this whole group thing happen. I came from a fandom where these type of things don’t happen. This is new to me. I only left because the source material is too long and I know I don’t have the dedication or time to consume it fully, and people there respect the source material. I didn’t want to feel like I didn’t belong there, so I left.

I was able to consume the entire source material here. I even enjoyed myself doing it. 911 is one of my top 3 favorite shows ever. I entered this fandom having high hopes of fitting into a community, but as we can see that didn’t happen. I’m not trying to have all of us love each other or even talk to each other, all I’m trying to do is find that small few who can be part of a peaceful community for this one show.

I’m also not asking for any black person or person of color to forgive, only you have the power to do that for yourself.

I really want to find my peace in this fandom. I have blocked so many people, and don’t even try to reach out to others because I know it’s a lost cause, this is just my attempt to find my place here. I hope you can understand that.

[ask-shane]

Hi, I am the anon that said i send mean asks on purpose. I just wanted to make a clarification and a formal apology and then i will stop interacting with this blog.

I need to clarify that by mean asks i meant things like saying shane has no bitches, or that he uses 738283837 in 1 shampoo. I never sent any slurs or genuine insults to this blog, and on top of mean things i also send nice things. I should've specified that the asks I sent were teasing and not genuine mean things.

I sincerely apologize for saying what I said. I had no idea the extent of the awful things people sent you and the fact that I could make you feel like i intentionally try yo make you feel bad and ruin your day with slurs and insults litterally made me shiver and feel anxious in real life. I fully understand how what i sent was harmful and damaging to someone who has to deal with toxicity on a daily basis.

I feel a lot of shame for what I did, this blog is something i check daily because i love your writing and i Love this character. I don't need you to unblock me if its even possible, i just wanted to apologize and wish you well

hi anon, mod dawn speaking. i’m gonna be talking directly to this person so please feel free to skip this if you aren’t them

i just wanted to start by addressing a couple things. firstly, thank you for apologizing so sincerely and honestly. i can tell how genuine this is and i’m certain it was a very brave decision after i put you on the spot earlier. i’ve deleted the post replying to your ask out of respect for this situation.

and for that, i am extremely sorry. i’m speaking to you with recognition that there is a person who is going to be reading this. i should’ve been more aware that i was putting you on blast in front of a lot of people. even if you were on anonymous, i can’t imagine how anxiety-inducing it was to be reading my response when you actually meant to be playful/teasing.

another thing i need to clarify here was that i did not realize that you were not the one sending me death threats and slurs. i had received a barrage of messages at the same time and had wrongly assumed the others were coming from you as well. it all happened at once, and the context of you sending that ask was shockingly related to the vile ones i received. your asks were not at all on the same level of “bad” the ones you didn’t send were.

unfortunately i had no way of telling which ones belonged to you and which ones didn’t, so i decided to address them using your ask. i made the mistake of incorrectly conflating your ask with the others.

that out of the way, i am so sorry once again, and also very thankful you apologized. please know there’s absolutely no need to feel shame for this.

i want to make it clear now that teasing (and even being somewhat mean) asks on my blog are okay. it’s fun to be provocative! there’s an art to it that i can appreciate, especially here, where shane gets glazed a lot. it is really awful that my guard happened to be high when you sent this because of what another actually unacceptable anon did. you shouldn’t be lumped in with them and i am so sorry i couldn’t discern your intention. i should also use this as an opportunity to say you have a good heart. i love that you can be playful and i thought a lot of what you said was actually quite funny. i didn’t intend to make you feel anxious or responsible for what other people did, but regardless, i did so, and it wasn’t fair of me to do to you.

lastly, thank you for interacting with my blog. now that we’ve cleared things up, i want to personally say to you that it is more than okay to continue to interact with my blog. i can appreciate a presence like yours around here. i’ll figure out a way to make sure you’re able to continue interacting (if you’d like to, of course). i am so glad you enjoy my writing and my portrayal of the character and it is honestly heartbreaking to hear i may have spoiled this experience for you. i have no negative feelings toward you whatsoever— if anything, i respect your ability to communicate with me after this (even though i’m sure it would’ve been much easier to block me and try to forget this happened)

i hope you are reading this.. i wish you nothing but the best 🤍

- dawn

[xr0tt3nxfl3shx]

The Morality of Mr.Plant and How It Potentially Ties Into Autism Coding

TW:DEATH/HORROR STUFF if youve seen twomp yk whats up

character analysis/I'm not gonna put any more effort into this i just needed to dump my thoughts somewhere, sorry if i sucks a little

The reasoning behind his kills says a lot, and from what I've gathered there have only ever been two.

1. Out of annoyance but specifically IMPULSE spurred by annoyance

2. As an act of justice/out of empathy

Anger Issues

Getting into the first reason, it is important to realize it is only ever impulse AND annoyance combined, as demonstrated during plargos pre-relationship dynamic, Mr. Plant experienced a similar annoyance with Argos that he does with all his murder victims and yet Argos lived. This is because he doesn't kill the people who just annoy him, he kills the people who get annoying enough that the impulses win and Argos never pushed him far enough.

The fact that he never plans any of his kills plays into this idea as well. He does not seek violence even once in the series. At most he fantasizes in moments of annoyance[in the pilot with Argos], he gets the impulse.

What the first and main reason behind Mr. Plants kills says is that Mr. Plant doesn't seek violence, he doesn't enjoy it, it just happens.

Empathy

The second reason behind his murders brings a lot more to light morally speaking.

Mr. Plant kills the adoptive parents when he sees what they did to their last child. This is clear cut, he killed them in an act of justice for what they did to the monster child, in fact it was somewhat implied he did not only kill them but tortured them first which is a something hes never shown to do in the series.

A less extreme example is the tomato man that he turns into soup. This further demonstrates that he has a distinction from right and wrong as he resists his initial violent impulse because "the man was just doing his job after all." Only to change his mind when the tomato says something that pushes him past that limit.

This means that he is capable of experiencing empathy.

This would seemingly make Mr. Plant an enigma given that he's murdered plant children without any empathically himself. But I believe it just means his situation is more complicated than what meets the eye, so here's how all of this ties into Mr. Plant as a character.

Title this segment later(fuck it nvm)

To sum up all of what I've just explained, Mr. Plant isn't sadistic, predatory in his violence. And Mr. Plant, despite doing unjust things and lacking empathy towards his victims, does have a moral compass or sense of justice, and does have empathy at least sometimes.

On the contrary he also treats entities as disposable, when they annoy him too much he ends them and he doesn't feel bad about it, even stating in an episode "He hadn't even hurt anyone, or at least anyone important."

This is where I introduce my theory, that being said I believe (intentionally or not) Mr. Plant is unbelievably autism coded.

A black and white mentality is a common autism symptom(one I experience as well✨️)

With a black and white mentality and being as easily irritable as he is, what happens is he meets someone, they annoy him and immediately Mr. Plant (subconsciously) starts seeing them as a bad thing with no redeeming qualities. He's so easily provoked he subconsciously puts nearly everyone in with the black and they aren't lives that matter anymore, they are obstacles or annoyances. He's also put some characters in with the white, (the blue mushroom, the monster child, Argos eventually) and he deems them worthy of protection and justice

It is very clear how Mr. Plant treats the entities around him as less than, especially with how he doesn't care at all about his victims. It checks out to me that this is because everyone gets grouped into the bad immediately due to his irritability and black and white mentality and in turn living beings become nothing more than a nuisance to him(aka something he can't feel empathy for).

When faced with a child being killed on film, it makes sense that the child would be lumped in with the white, and the abusers would be lumped in with the black. And it makes sense that the child who cut off Mr. Plant's pettle was lumped in with the black as well.

No, it's not fair at all that Mr. Plant holds an annoying child to the same level as a child murder but I don't think this makes Mr. Plant entirely evil per say.

Conclusion

My overall thoughts on Mr. Plant is that he(like me and many other autistic people) has a silly divergent mind that struggles to see the in-between in people. They came off wrong and now they're too annoying to empathize with, or (like with Argos) he's too kind; he isn't a bad entity for killing those guys. And the lack of empathy combined with murderous impulses results in the impulses winning.

He knows his rights from wrongs when he's thinking about it, he just struggles to see past his brain's predisposed notions of good and evil. I think he's in a moral gray area as of now but I'd love to see an arc where he realizes the nuisance in his fellow entities and that in order to pursue a healthy relationship with argos he needs to try and fight against his black and white mentality.

-signed an autistic kid at 5:37 am holy shit THE SLEEP DISORDER IS WILDING

[basingstokemercury]

Finally revisited Let That Be Your Last Battlefield, another of the ones that spooked baby me.

It's... much less impressive as an adult, to say the least.

As in The Alternative Factor, I got the sense of very little plot progression. People say and do the same things over and over, every so often someone takes over the ship, there isn't much to keep you engaged in the story.

And since I seem to be in the business of nitpicking Trek's morality, I'll say what many people have probably said before: the situation presented isn't symmetrical, which is a bit of a flaw in a story about "just let go of hate everyone".

It's clear that Bele is the more powerful one here (or at least would be if the planet hadn't been destroyed). Notably, Lokai doesn't seem to exhibit this incredibly strong telekinetic ability; does he choose not to use it? Or did Bele's race achieve their historical subjugation of Lokai's because they had a power the other lacked, a la Plato's Stepchildren? This feels like something that could have been expanded on.

Bele is chasing Lokai, who seems to be on the run and making no attempt at retaliation. He's extremely bigoted against Lokai's people, not even trying to hide this - in contrast, Lokai's venom seems mostly directed against what Bele's race has done, rather than any innate evil quality.

As for the charges against Lokai, I'm the first to say that "there are rules, even in war" (thanks, Bones), and even in a war that most would agree is just. Intentionally killing civilians, torture, wanton pain and destruction beyond the needs of the cause... Resisting oppression isn't a blanket justification, and good causes can be co-opted by those who just want to gratify a dark impulse.

But we aren't given any specifics as to whether Lokai did indeed cross these lines, only ranting from someone clearly prejudiced. His repeated demands for Bele's death could read as hatred or bloodlust, absolutely - or they could be the words of a desperate man, knowing his pursuer has no mercy and seeing no other way of ending the chase.

And if your premise is that both sides have been destroyed by mutual, irrational hate, maybe you ought to make an effort at showing that both have equally good (or bad) reasons for their enmity?

Next, The Mark Of Gideon. Judging by discussion I've seen of this one as a teen and adult, 10/11ish me was nowhere near equipped to understand it, which is probably part of why she classed it as "disturbing" and moved on.

Maybe I'll eventually work up the courage for Spock's Brain or The Way To Eden...