#i want. to write some stuff with them

[yeenybeanies]

Gt!CoD au!!

doodle of a little prikolai moment in chapter 4 of make it better 🥰 sometimes your giant pilot squeezes you a little too hard when he’s trying to dodge RPGs

[tubbytarchia]

@mcyt-yuri-week day 1 Sun/Moon awooga awooga (Aiko - Star/スター) (Lyrics TL)

(Yeah you're only gonna see GemPearl from me)

[softmangoes]

how the LIs come

18+

pure!sydney buries his face into your chest, lapping at your nipple with a warm tongue. "you're beautiful," he breathes, eyes filled with adoration as he watches you roll your hips. you take him so well and yet, he is taken by you. when you place your hand around his throat, his eyes widen. "beloved," sydney gasps, clutching you as he fills you with the warmth of his worship.

"wonderful." corrupt!sydney's breath is warm against your ear as he rocks his hips into you. one of his hands is busy stroking you, coaxing breathy moans as you fuck yourself against him. your hand braces against the shelf. there are students milling around in the distance. "i can feel you clenching around me," he whispers, pushing himself in deeper. there's a note of fanaticism to his voice, an obsessiveness in his embrace that threatens to drive you over the edge. it takes all of your strength not to keen. thankfully, his fingers, so soft and smooth, slip into your mouth. "but we wouldn't want the others to know that, do we?"

"so fucking whiney," whitney curses, taking your hair in his fist as he fucks you against the desk. "you've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he sinks his teeth into your skin, rakes his nails across your hips as he comes. whitney is selfish, but his marks burn in a way you can't resist. he doesn't wait for you to adjust yourself and pulls up his trousers. you hear him fasten his belt. "better clean yourself up before the break's over."

kylar whines. he can't help it. all week, he's been saving himself for you, palming his groin whenever it got too unbearable, all because he wanted to fill you up once you were back in his arms. "you look so beautiful like this," he gasps against your neck, rutting into you with jerky, desperate thrusts. "you'll, hah, take everything that i can give you, right?"

there's a grumble that builds within eden's throat - part growl, part rolling of thunder as his hips meet yours. "you're mine," he says gruffly, his tongue licking a hot stripe along your neck. the hunter has you pinned. his massive body cages you in while he thrusts, cock twitching inside of you as he smashes his mouth against yours to swallow your moans. when he pulls away, he licks his teeth, admiring your sweat-slicked skin as his release leaks out of you. what a sight he is, your hunter. what a feast you are, his prey. "don't you ever forget that."

"we have to be quiet," robin muffles his moans by pressing his mouth against yours. he's got you in his lap, arms wrapped around your body as he thrusts. just a few minutes ago, he had been playing video games. now, his hands are occupied, sculpting your sides. your back. when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull, he lets out a needy whine that you silence by taking his lips between your teeth.

ivory wraith hums, a sonorous thrum that vibrates the very marrow of your bones. when his pleasure crests, it is the surge of the current. the coiling of a great and powerful tide that washes over you, drowning you as he swells. "droplet," he sighs, pressing a cold kiss to your temple. the specter's embrace is gentle yet possessive, his caress carrying the promise of adoring you during this lifetime and a thousand more. "may we never part again."

[zer0pm]

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

.

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

.

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

.

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

.

.

.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

[factorialsotherfandoms]

"Do you think Philza's okay?"

Fit rolls over to look at Pac, his roommate staring up at the ceiling. He reaches over, cautiously offering his hand. Pac, of course, takes it just as hesitantly.

"Cell's back, maybe after you, and you're worried about Phil?" Okay, so Fit is worried too, but his point is well made. Pac had only told him some of the situation, in whispered tones and terrified whimpers a few hours ago, and he was worrying about someone who was at least safe?

Pac turns his head, and looks Fit dead in the eye. "You're with me. I know you won't let anyone hurt me. But who's with him?"

"He's safe enough," Fit says. "Physically at least."

"He just didn't seem, ah," Pac struggles with his words for a moment. "Well?"

"It's not really my place to say," he replies. "But he's Philza. He'll be fine."

"Will he?" Pac asks, fretting already. "If the Federation is inside his head, making him see things..."

It's a worry Fit has too, one he really doesn't want to think about. He wants to pretend that his old friend is fine, that going and murdering blazes and magma cubes will have fixed everything. He needs to believe it, because the alternative... The alternative is there's nothing he can do.

"Do you really believe him?" Pac asks. "That there was a book there."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Fit sighs, and sits up. He turns on the lamp and stretches, looking around his room of missing texture flooring and ugly walls - the safest place he could think to bring Pac when he heard the news.

"It's not the first time," Fit says. "Phil... He swears it was a dream, that he was just sleeping. He wasn't. Tubbo and me? We checked every corner of his house. He wasn't there. Then he takes us to where he thought he was taken and he swears there's nothing weird about it? But it's full of parrots - they shouldn't have spawned there. Tubbo even found an avocado sapling."

"Philza has a lot of avocados," Pac agrees. "You think the Federation took him?"

"I'm not sure, it's not their usual behaviour," Fit frowns. "But I don't know who else it would be?"

"The codes?"

"Maybe." Fit cracks his head to the side. "But I know Phil. Whatever he saw? It terrified him. And anything that scares Philza Minecraft is nothing you ever want to see."

"Should we ask him if we can visit?" Pac has a calculating look on his face. "I can cry scared all over again, I just need to remember why. And his bunker is very safe. They might look for me in your house, but they'd never think of his."

"Why? Is my company not good enough for you?" Fit is mostly teasing.

Mostly.

"No! No, no, no," Pac waves his hands in a desperate attempt to be understood. "I just... I'm worried, you know?"

"Yeah..." Fit sighs. "Yeah, I'm worried too... I'll ask him."

Pac nods, and Fit types.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: Can I bring Pac over? We might need to stay the night.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: sure mate

Ph1LzA whispers to you: is everything okay?

You whisper to Ph1LzA: We'll explain when we get there

That's the end of that; Fit shows his communicator to Pac, who agrees.

"I'm not really faking the tears," Pac promises, already tearing up. "I just don't think about it, and then it isn't real."

Pac's not the only one acting like that, Fit presumes; Philza's constant denials even with evidence in front of him... Whatever the fuck happened in that forest, it's nothing good. Something so terrible believing his memory is at fault is somehow better.

"To Phil and Missa," Fit reminds Pac, not really needing it.

They warp together, and at the same time.

---

Philza is waiting at the top of the hatch when the pair arrive. To most people he would look entirely normal, but Fit can see the way his eyes flitter as he waves. Pac waves back, while Fit gives his traditional "oi!!!"

Philza laughs, and leads them down into the basement.

"What's up?" he asks the two of them. "Need more toast or something? I thought you were both asleep."

"No, um," Fit looks to Pac, realising they didn't quite work out what to say.

"Bagi told me more about the murders," is what Pac says, his voice dropping very quiet as he does. "She thinks... We think someone from my past is on the island."

"Shit," Philza closes his eyes for a moment. "How bad is it?"

"Last time I saw him," Pac's pace picks up; Fit squeezes his shoulder as he sees panic come in. "Last time... He nearly killed me. And the messages..." Pac grabs the hand on his shoulder and squeezes it back. "Some of them might be addressed to me."

Philza doesn't ask questions, he just glances around his children's bedroom, then looks at Fit. Fit meets his eyes.

Philza sighs, and caves.

"Alright," he says. "Do you want to sleep in Chayanne's room? I can adjust the door to just the three of us, Missa, and my eggs for now."

Fit knows it isn't for Pac's sake that Philza is changing the doors, he knows it for sure.

They get their beds set up, tucked behind the chests where a casual observer cannot see. Philza doesn't have a bed, but Fit makes them for him and Pac, placing them tucked away.

"Would you stay with us?" Fit asks, before his old friend can slip away.

Philza looks genuinely surprised by the request, "why, mate? I'll just be in the eggs' room."

"Safety in numbers, right?" Pac asks, glancing between the two. "I would... Feel safer if you were here too."

Fit knows its a manipulation tactic to convince Philza to stay, to make sure the old crow is not alone. It still rings so very true - and so very against everything ingrained within Fit's soul.

It's fine. For a few nights he can manage it, if its what his two closest friends need.

"Alright," Philza hesitates, but comes over and sits on the edge of Pac's bed. He takes off his backpack, and leans his scythe just in reach. Pac and Fit take the opportunity to remove their prosthetics, hastily reattached to travel over here, and stretch.

When Philza stands again, both of them can see how unstable he looks.

"Let's push our beds together," Fit says. "If we put Pac between us, there isn't an angle they can get him from."

Philza looks at Fit, and knows exactly what he's doing. Still, Philza crafts up a third bed, and squishes it between the two.

He nearly falls as he walks around to do it; Fit catches him, helps him steady, but is brushed off before he can say a word.

"Alright," Philza says. "Pac in the middle then. You won't get too warm, will you?"

"I'm Brazilian," Pac says. "It's always too cold here now Mike is gone."

They both see how heavily Philza drops to the bed, curling himself back to Pac and defensively ready. Fit, on his side, curls close to Pac - his one arm over him.

It's not really a surprise how quickly Pac falls asleep, with the sheer trauma and strain of the day on his back. He quickly falls into dreams, and Fit can only hope they are kind.

"Phil," he asks, once he knows Pac is asleep. "Won't you sleep?"

"You needed a guard," Philza says.

"You know we don't. You and I? We'll wake if anything so much as tests the hatch."

It's true, and they both know it.

Philza, however, doesn't speak.

At least, not for a long time; Fit considers conversation a lost cause and is about to give up and call this good enough when he hears Philza again, voice broken just like it was in the garden.

"If I sleep, will I wake?" is what Philza asks, whispered almost silently. "How will I know when the world is real again? What will I see this time?"

"I'll make sure you wake up," Fit promises, because he can. "And I'll do something to make you absolutely certain its really me."

"Promise?"

Philza sounds so weak, so small like this. Fit... Fit cannot stand it, not at all. He reaches a little further, and manages to put his hand on Phil's shoulder.

Philza's own hand reaches over, clinging to it.

"I promise," Fit says. "We'll wake you if we leave. We won't let anything weird happen, its just sleep."

Philza turns, and his eyes do not seem to trust Fit. But they are also exhausted, and desperate, and terrified.

"Go to sleep, Phil. I won't until you do."

"I'm sorry," Philza whispers, sounding absolutely broken. "Thank you. Both of you. I know... I'm sorry."

Fit squeezes his shoulder again.

"It'll be alright," Fit replies. "I've got you. I've got both of you. It's going to be okay."

Nothing else is said before they eventually fall asleep.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Randomly thinking about “tolerate it” (narrator voice: it was not random) and how under the cloak of fiction it is ostensibly inspired by works like “Rebecca” (which Taylor said she read during the 2020 lockdowns I believe?), with the line of “you’re so much older and wiser” indicating that the speaker is significantly younger and inexperienced compared to the person she’s speaking to and a pretty direct reference to the plot of the book.

But I saw something somewhere once that stuck with me about how it might not be referring to relative age between the characters but chronological age as in the passage of time in a relationship. And that made me think about how in a contemporary context, it might not necessarily be referencing an actual age gap between the two characters, but rather a sarcastic or cynical response to the man’s claims that he has matured (“you’re so much older and wiser [than you were before/than you were when we met/etc.]”), which then made me think about that line in relation to the woman. And that it could be taken like, “you act like you’ve matured so much in our time together and like you know everything, while I’m supposedly still stuck as the girl I was when we first met.”

Which then made me think of the “right where you left me” of it all and did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen time went on for everyone else she won’t know it and the bit in Miss Americana where she talks about how celebrities get frozen at the age at which they got famous, and how she’s had to play catch up in a lot of ways not just in her emotional growth but kind of in general. (Which also made me wonder if she’s ever been called out for immaturity/lack of curiosity/lack of education about things in her life…)

Which then made me think about the rest of the song, and @taylortruther’s posts yesterday about “seven” and “Daylight” and the way Taylor idealizes her youth yet contrasts it with an almost sinister reality in its wake, and the line, “I sit by the door like I’m just a kid,” because the discussion raised that her relationship let her recapture some of the childlike joy and wonder she’d lost. So this line is a double-edged sword: the speaker sits by the door with childlike hope that the person will come home and cherish her, but on the darker side, feels like the child dealing with the monsters she doesn’t have names for yet and the feelings of isolation she felt as she aged.

I’m not saying the song is necessarily autobiographical; like most of the songs on folkmore, it’s clearly a fictionalized story based on media she’d consumed and created, but we know a lot of the fictional songs were infused with her own feelings and experiences and… This idea swirling in my head picked up steam and now I kind of can’t stop thinking about it. Sorry but I’m a little obsessed now.

Like maybe it might start to shed light on why she identified so strongly with the novel in the first place…

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

I'm not sure if your event is open just yet (potential time differences) but may I request Lilia, as the ghost, with the prompt 6.Bump in the night with romantic, fluff and maybe a bit of horror cause we know Lilia likes to scare people please?

I'm so sorry if I didn't do this right 😅

Bump in the Night; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, implied romantic feelings/pining

Content Warning; Swearing, light fear

Word Count; 700+

A/N; I hope you like what I came up with, Lilia will always be a little imp. And don't worry about formatting, you did everything perfectly!

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

You were grumbling to yourself as you lit some candles while holding a flashlight under your chin.

The power had gone out due to a blizzard, right when you were in the middle of catching up on your favourite show. But the weather didn’t care about the plotline or the barely warm soup that was now sitting sadly on your stovetop. No show and no dinner, you were shit out of luck tonight by the looks of it.

So instead, you grabbed all the candles you could find, a small horde of blankets, and hunkered down.

You fidgeted around, picking at some loose strings, and tapping to the beat of the battery-operated clock. 

… bored bored bored THIS SUCKS bored bored bored …

You dragged your hands down your face. Why couldn’t the power go out while you were asleep? Why did it have to go out on one of your only quiet nights to yourself? Why couldn’t the power wait until you had your dinner? 

The wind howled outside as if it were mocking you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and the candles snuffed out, one by one. Not by a draft, or wind, but as if someone was pinching off the flame. The room was cast into darkness, only the pale blue light from outside lighting everything up in a dim silver cast.

Face the issue at hand that had all levels of nope nope NOPE written all over it? Or, hide under the blankets like you were a kid again?

… you hid under the blankets. You reasoned it wasn’t from fear, but rather to conserve your body heat, since hey, the candles died out due to some unforeseen and totally normal reason.

But then you smelt something burning.

There was no power though, nothing was working so why was something burning?

You shuffled to the kitchen and peered out from your blanket cocoon.

The soup, which was barely lukewarm, was now a charred mess of black sludge.

“The hell,” you hissed, eyeing the baffling liquid. Part of your brain was screaming DANGER DANGER DANGER!!! And the other part? It was mourning the loss of your dinner.

A breathy chuckle was in your ear.

You wanted to move, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place by some unseen force.

You felt delicate fingers trace the back of your neck before they came to a stop at a pulse point, which was easy enough to find since your pulse was beating like a trapped bird trying to escape a cage.

“You always look the same,” the voice whispered, the chuckle and playfulness long gone.

The voice flitted closer, and you could make out a hazy figure in your peripheral vision, but just barely.

The figure, a petite figure, came to a stop in front of you. The only thing about them that felt physical, that was the most clear, were their magenta almost red eyes. They bore down on you with a weight; of knowing, of countless years, of longing, and a mix of grief and mischievous — an odd combination.

“What do you want,” you asked, fighting your mouth to spit out the words.

The man, you assumed the spectre to be a man at least, gave you a soft smile.

He took your face into his cold hands, or at least tried to, and rubbed circles into the apple of your cheeks. “Many things, dearie,” he sighed softly, “but only if you want them too. I’ll leave if you want me to. I just want to see you happy.”

An odd thing to say when you nearly gave me a stroke. 

Despite that near stroke though, you didn’t sense any malevolence from the ghostly figure who held you softly. And despite his cold touch, he was nothing but warmth, but in the sense of a weak candle.

One must just take care of the flame to see it grow.

Time after time, Lilia would find you, his spirit drawn towards yours.

I love you.

Never really said, but it would end in the same way. Him quietly loving you from the sidelines until he found his opening. An opening into your life, and your heart.

~~~~~~~

Taglist; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @moonsoup01637 @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[givethispromptatry]

Tags

[tomaturtles]

IT'S KAWOSHIN DAY!!! As well as the last day of Kawoshin Week :') It's been such a blast, gonna miss it when it's over

Kawoshin Week Day 7: Cuddling/domestic fluff! + Sleepover and Spinoffs (again)! Based on the Campus Apocalypse sleepover chapter ☺️

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[spookygibberish]

Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.

The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.

A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.

[spacedace]

Haunted by thoughts of an AU i don't know enough Batman/DC lore to write where instead of bent on revenge, Jason comes back obsessed with a need to make sure no other Robin (or any BatKid) faces the fears and horrors he faced and absolutely he will not let any more Robins die. (AKA writing prompt for whoever is interested)

He still comes back to Gotham, still takes over Crime Alley as Red Hood, but he never reveals who he is. He's just this new mystery vigilante that sticks to Crime Alley and uses more violence than Bruce would like but is always, always *always* there to look after the kids.

Red Hood becomes the over protective big brother of all the younger BatKids, showing up out of no where whenever a fight starts getting dicey to kick ass and keep them safe before shuffling them off to whatever of his safe houses is closest to get them some snacks and do a check in on how they're feeling/doing.

He makes sure Tim gets some sleep and isn't burning himself out. Has some heart to hearts with Steph about their similar childhoods. Sets up a safe quiet space for Cass when she feels overwhelmed. Drags them all off to Dr. Thompkins, gently bullies them i ti getting therapy, helps them with homework, things like that.

He avoids Bruce & Dick generally- too painful - but Red Hood is always there to have their backs, even if he never sticks around long afterwards.

When Damian shows up things get a bit weird. Damian knows him from the League, but won't say who he is. Red Hood seems to have a way with him and manges to treat Damian like the kid he is without Damian blowing up or getting angry about it.

Jason nips Damian's idea of killing Tim in the bud before it gets past the initial planning stage and slowly manages to get the two to some kind of understanding.

He actually sticks around to talk to Dick & Bruce after fights longer than a few seconds and gives advice on how to work with Damian on his issues. Some of the distrust starts to go away for Bruce after that, he starts trying to pull Red Hood into the fold, Dick helping as much as he can.

And Jason is so tempted to tell them. Make the reveal, face his fears and go *home* finally.

But then Bruce dies.

And Dick has taken up the cowl and made Damian Robin and Tim is left drifting, so sure that Bruce is still alive and Jason looks at it all and how close they all are to shaking apart and thinks "I'm not losing anyone else"

He talks to Tim and works with him to try and find Bruce and keep the little bird as far the fuck away from Ra's as possible. Tim takes the mantel Red Robin in honor of his adopted big brother Hood when the dust finally settles.

And when The Heretic comes for Damian, he finds that he has to get through the living tank that is Red Hood first. He doesn't, in the end. Jason swore he'd never let another Robin die and he'd reshape the universe with his bare hands if that's what it takes to do.

They all get on the same page finally, they work together and get Bruce home and well it's not like there's a better time to let them all know he's back.

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[brother-emperors]

‘carthago delenda est’ okay but consider that in 2000+ years someone is going to want to draw some comics and I don't have the prerequisite skills to do architectural reconstructions

[bluepallilworld]

✨Surprise! ✨

I'm launching a new story for my dark cream ship kids and co ^^

I usually don't warn before the first part is done but I thought Mimosa's birthday was a good day to announce it!

A Tear's Soul!

I already showed that drawing (hehe it's the cover) but now I can talk about it ;3

The project is gonna a mix of comics and writings (because I'd burn myself out trying to do full comic when I'm not very experienced in those... They're hard, ok?)

Sooo it's gonna take me a while........................

Even if I try to shorten it as much as possible (10 parts unless problems)

I think the ones who'd be interested all know how my projects usually go, it's not gonna be a cute, fluffy story uwu. It'll have some fluff tho promise, but angst is part of the journey here! I'll give warnings each time I feel it's necessary :P

So!

If it interests you and you wish to be tagged on it, tell me now and you'll be tagged in each update :D

[I had to compress that gif, it was too big XD]