#its a terrifying thought because my art is who i am. always has been. and so ive hated not writing or painting or drawing or reading

[scattered-winter]

it is time to rejoice ,,,, for i am Writing once again ,,

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Azul Ashengrotto - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Azul: That painting was done by a painter from the Coral Sea… I'm rather surprised at the number of merfolk focused paintings here in a museum on the surface.

Azul: I suppose I should expect nothing less from this Land of Dawning Museum with 100 years of history lining its halls. Their collection includes a wide variety of works.

Azul: Fufu, it does bring me pride a supporter of the museum. I must do my part well… Oh?

???: She's a lot bigger than I expected… Did the Sea Witch really need to grow to such a size…?

Azul: Well, well, Jamil-san. If there is anything I can elucidate you on this painting of the Sea Witch, I would happy to do so.

Jamil: Don't just listen in on someone else's personal mutterings like that. Your ears just pick up everything, huh.

Azul: The scene depicted in this painting is of when the Sea Witch was admonishing someone who tried to change their contract.

Jamil: And don't just start explaining without being prompted. Even I know about the story of when she transformed to that titanic size.

Jamil: But when I actually see this painting in person, she's just much larger than I had imagined… It's just hard to believe.

Azul: You believe this depiction is a fictional exaggeration of what actually happened?

Azul: I completely understand that. I had the same thoughts the first time I saw this painting.

Azul: Nevertheless, this painting has faithfully reproduced a well-known legend passed down in the Coral Sea.

Azul: The Sea Witch embodies the spirit of compassion. And yet, she also demonstrated her anger at the mer who broke their contract.

Azul: But all of it was for the purpose to reform the soul of the mer who had acted in bad faith!

Jamil: What, she disciplined them for their own good? …Actually, yeah, there are some people who don't learn their lesson from just a light scolding.

Azul: Indeed. That is how it is taught in the Coral Sea.

Azul: You cannot just spoil someone rotten, there needs to be some discipline as well. I believe that shows true compassion.

Jamil: I can't believe something reasonable actually came from your mouth… What's wrong, are you sick or something?

Azul: Not at all. I only say this because there was someone close to me who would do the exact same thing.

Jamil: You personally know a mer who is similar to the Sea Witch? Who could that be?

Azul: My grandmother.

Azul: She always dotes on me… And when I was a child, I was definitely spoiled rotten by her.

Azul: However, she didn't hold back on scolding me when I didn't heed her advice and mixed some dangerous potions together.

Azul: And that was beyond terrifying… She was as furious as whirlpools in a strait.

Jamil: Whirlpools in a strait, huh… I bet that was as intense at the Sea Witch in this painting.

Azul: Indeed she was. Even if I had wanted to swim away, my legs were shaking so much, I couldn't even move.

Azul: However, I do understand now that she was tough because she had been worried about me.

Azul: Even after leaving home, I diligently put forth the effort every single day while always remembering her teachings.

Azul: So whenever I go to work, I remember what she would say to me, and use that to strengthen myself before beginning.

Azul: She would say… "Become a mer who is capable of helping someone else."

Jamil: …I see.

Jamil: I gotta say, I wasn't expecting you to be that much of a grandma's boy. That's a bit of a shocker.

Azul: A grandma's boy… Well, I suppose. I am who I am now thanks to her.

Azul: Of course, it also wouldn't be incorrect to say that I learned the importance of proper compensation from her, either.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Azul: This is… a painting that depicts story of when the Fairest Queen disguised herself as an old woman and visited a young girl who lived in a forest.

Azul: If I recall, as a way to help the young girl in love, she personally came to deliver apples that the she needed for a dish.

Jamil: So she was going to get through to her love interest through their stomach, hm. If the Fairest Queen herself brought them all the way there, those apples must have been especially delicious.

Azul: Indeed, one can almost smell that sweet apple aroma just by looking at this painting.

Azul: I'm sure it would be rather difficult for a painter from the oceans to draw such a real-looking apple.

Jamil: You think? Apples are imported under the sea, too. I feel like they could draw it by looking at that…

Azul: Of course, we absolutely can get our hands of apples in the sea. However, there is a large difference in how the light hits it and how the color shines upon it when it is at the sea floor compared to the surface.

Azul: Unless that painter has spent enough years on land, the way they draw them will be completely different from how they look on land.

Jamil: Interesting. Speaking of differences, Azul… Is it true that things smell differently on land and in the sea?

Azul: Oh, you're quite knowledgeable.

Azul: It often does feel as though the same things smell differently under the sea or on the surface.

Azul: When I first came on land, every scent was new to me, so every time I came across something new, I made it a point to determine its aroma.

Jamil: You just went around sniffing everything left and right… Haha, makes me laugh just imagining it.

Jamil: I bet everything smelling different caused some confusion, huh.

Azul: I suppose so. However, I did make some new discoveries. I especially found my meal times to be very valuable.

Azul: I can never forget that moment I realized just how different the flavors of ingredients that we also had in the ocean could be just from the change in aroma.

Azul: People do often say that fragrance is a valuable part of determining the taste factor of a dish.

Jamil: That's true. Oftentimes spices are used as a way to add fragrance in the same way.

Jamil: So, what was the dish that made you realize that even the same ingredients could affect the flavor?

Azul: Just a simple grilled dish. Char-grilled meat or fish, for example.

Azul: Of course, I've eaten things made on land underwater before, but the flavor was completely different.

Jamil: Char-grilling, hm. I can definitely see that as having a different flavor, since those dishes heavily rely on aromas.

Azul: Indeed. As such, at Jade and Floyd's suggestion, we had a barbeque soon after we came to the surface…

Azul: However, our ingredients became charred due to our inability to control the heat properly, and smoke kept getting into our eyes… It was one hardship after another, since we had no idea how to do it effectively.

Azul: Not to mention that Jade and Floyd found it entertaining to keep blowing the smoke in my direction… It was a wretched time.

Jamil: Sounds like fun to me. I can picture just how disgruntled you must have been.

Azul: Oh, is that right? I'll make sure to invite you next time, Jamil-san, since you seem interested.

Jamil: …I think I'll pass, actually.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jamil: This is a painting of the Lord of the Underworld and his human helper from his legends, huh. This lady looks pretty unhappy.

Azul: It is said that they would have troubles compromising often, and it seems that she is very reluctant towards something here.

Azul: In addition, she had failed in a task that the Lord had given her, and made a major misstep by reporting incorrect information.

Azul: However, he didn't abandon her and instead gave her a chance to redeem herself.

Azul: How utterly generous he is… The Lord of the Underworld is a wonderful inspiration as someone who knows how to rouse his people.

Jamil: Well, I can't deny that, but… To me, there's something to be said about being too tolerant.

Jamil: I know I personally would rather not have an increase in workload because something gets promised without thinking.

Azul: Are you perhaps talking about matter of raising the PR level of Night Raven College that the Headmage requested?

Azul: When that topic was brought up in the last Housewarden meeting, Kalim-san was so forthright in accepting the task.

Jamil: You accepted it, too. This is an unbearable weight on me, and my fellow dorm students, you know.

Jamil: I get why softhearted Kalim took it on, but why would you go out of your way to accept this sort of annoying task?

Azul: No reason why… The Headmage was in need, so I volunteered out of the goodness of my heart.

Azul: Also… If this PR were to succeed, then it would be beneficial to me, as well.

Jamil: Beneficial to you?

Azul: If the good name of our academy is spread, then that will also reflect on us, you see?

Azul: More than ever people will recognize us as being students from that Night Raven College…

Azul: And if it is a grand success, then as one of the organizers, I may have the chance to grow my own opportunities.

Jamil: So that's why. You're completely different from Kalim, who just took it on because the Headmage asked.

Jamil: But anyway, this is all just hypothetical, right? There's also the chance that it's all just a waste of time and effort.

Azul: That is true. However, that is no reason to sit back and do nothing.

Azul: My main goal while at this academy is to maximize my own marketability before heading out into society.

Azul: In order to achieve that, there is nothing I am unwilling to do. I must take every opportunity that is given to me.

Jamil: Sigh, that's just like you.

Jamil: Speaking of which, have you already come up with how you're planning on increasing PR?

Jamil: I hear that the organizer will have to implement the best idea personally. That's a pretty hefty load, don't you think?

Azul: Fufu, I can't go into details, but… Of course, I've thought of some feasible ideas.

Azul: If you're interested, why not join us, Jamil-san?

Azul: It would be remiss if I were to completely monopolize this wonderful of an opportunity.

Jamil: No thanks. I'll be leaving now before I get wrapped up in anything troublesome.

Azul: Fufu, and there he slips away from me. …Hm? This painting…

Azul: It's the mermaid who fell in love with a human from one of the Sea Witch's legends. She seems so naïve and vulnerable; one prone to being led on.

Azul: Fufu… The world is cruel, after all. I wonder how much of reality she actually understood.

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

[local-omen]

bad batch finale thoughts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

first of all damn. like damn. they really did it. those crazy sons of bitches did it. they ended this beloved show in a way that was cathartic, happy, full of tension, and did all the characters justice. my faith in star wars has been restored. i am so happy

—— the tension was unmatched this whole episode. like narratively, killing off tech told us as the audience that no one is safe, there’s no plot armor. so the whole time i was like omg they’re all gonna die but they dIDNT BECAUSE THEYRE THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS AND BECAUSE THEY HAVE LOYALTY AND LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND THATS WHAT THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT. LOYALTY AND LOVE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

—— CROSSHAIRS HAND IM SOBBING there is something so heart wrenching but amazing about his 'shooting hand' being taken away from him. it's like the physical embodiment of why he was created but now that he's free of that embodiment, he can choose to be whatever he wants. such a good choice narratively imo

—— that elite task force was badass i'm obsessed with their designs and their fighting styles i kinda wish we got more of them but they were also terrifying

—— crosshair finally made the shot that mattered the MOST. i love him so much. like he seriously means so much to me idec

—— still bummed that tech is actually dead (no he’s not haha loser i’m happy in my delusions). while i do think it’s technically more realistic for clone soldiers bred to die and raised with the expectation that they’ll be killed in battle to lack emotion, i think the lack of emotion this season was to its detriment. however i will say that the “clone force 99 died with tech” line was so good it pretty much made up for it lol

—— THE ENDING WAAA A A AAA A. A A A A. A AAA. A A A A A. A A AAA AAA AAA AAAA A A AAAAAA A A. omega and hera best friends confirmed. they were rebellion pilots together. omega is in the rebellion. like that is just the perfect ending to her character i can’t even. because of course she would. and i love her. i’m so proud of her. she is the heart and soul of this show and anyone who hated her is prolly feelin realllll silly right now

—— damn we’re really just not gonna know who the cx 2 operative was huh. like. he really was just a guy

—— that last shot of tech’s glasses almost got me i fr almost cried. he would be so so so proud of omega. he would be proud of all of them

—— omegas and hunters older designs mean everything to me. just. storytelling through clothes will never not be my favorite thing. her little skull patch 😭🫠 the bandana 🫠🥲

this show means so much to me, truly. it has inspired me artistically, comforted me, and connected me to some amazing people. i don’t even feel stupid for writing all these thoughts about a ‘silly little star wars show’ because damn it this is what art and stories means to people!! this is how powerful they can be! i do not need to hide behind jokes and irony to communicate how much this artistic work means to me!

<3

[andiwriteordie]

HIIII i have a prompt for u,

have mike get a vecna vision where will dies in his arms. 🤭🤭🤭

this is not a want its a NEED.

im in the mood for angst rn and i love ur art style so...... 😊😊

oh this was a cruel cruel prompt 😈

here's a ficlet that turned into a fic because i combined it with another prompt lol 🫡

—

holding hands, while the walls come tumbling down 

It starts like this.

The steady yet nervous thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat that Mike can hear as loud as his own. A body nestled right beside him; an artist’s hands, smooth and soft and ever gentle, intertwined with Mike’s; a boy he has known for nearly his entire life and loved in some way for just as long who is here, here, here lying next to him—all Mike’s for the taking, just like Mike is all his. 

It’s quiet in the room, save for the soft sound of their breathing. That, too, moves in time with each other—the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they breathe in and out, in and out, in and out.

Mike would stay here forever if he could. And he thinks—no, no, no; he knows, without a shadow of a doubt in his mind and in his heart—that Will feels the same.

Mike has always prided himself on being the type of person to give everything to what he does. Sometimes (oftentimes), everything isn’t enough, but that doesn’t stop him from giving it his all anyways. He’s never been the type of person to do something halfway; no, for Mike, it’s always been a deep dive into whatever it is he’s set his mind out to. An all or nothing kind of deal.

Will’s different from him. That’s something Mike’s known since their very first conversation, when his excitable, overeager “Hi! Do you want to be my friend?” was met with a quieter, shyer, but no less enthusiastic, “Yes; I – I do!” from Will. He’s not the type of first to run headfirst into something, which is probably good for Mike. It probably keeps them both out of trouble. But when Will does commit to something, when he chooses what he wants, when he decides that Yes, yes, yes, this is something I’m willing to fight for, then he’s every bit as passionate as Mike is.

All or nothing. 

There’s no turning back for the two of them, and Mike couldn’t care less. This path they’ve stumbled down on is one they’ve been walking down for quite some time now—together, even though they were both a little too blind and far too stubborn to see it. Now that they can finally see each other, now that everything is out in the light, now that Will knows Mike loves him and Mike knows that Will loves him too, there’s no going back from here. They’ve passed the point of no return, and Mike will be damned if they ever go back to what they used to be.

It’s been a longtime coming for the two of them, and as Will nestles closer to Mike’s side, resting his head on Mike’s chest and letting out another soft, content sigh, Mike can’t help but smile. 

The world around them might literally be on the brink of ending—constantly shrouded in darkness, plagued by monsters from the Upside Down, cold and always on the brink of another terrifying, disastrous storm that will threaten to rip Hawkins apart—but Mike has never been happier than he is in this moment, here with Will.

“What’re you thinking about?” comes Will’s quiet, sleepy voice, and Mike glances down at his boyfriend (Boyfriend? Right? Is that what we are now?) and meets Will’s gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, mixed in with the sleepiness that’s not surprising for how late it must be now, as well as a familiar curiosity. 

What’s wrong? Will’s expression also seems to say. Are you okay? Was… was this okay?

Mike just smiles, leaning forward and kissing Will, soft and slow. Immediately, the butterflies in his stomach come back to life, more excited and awake than they’ve ever been before today. “Just about how happy I am,” Mike admits, once he’s pulled away. “I… I never really thought this would happen to me… To us.”

The curiosity melts away from Will’s face, morphing into something softer and something a bit hesitant and shy. He pulls away, ever so slightly, and lies on his side, and Mike does the same, so the two of them are looking directly at one another now. The dim glow of the old lamp that’d made it with Mike all these years—somehow surviving the move from his childhood home to Hawkins Lab and making it through the literal apocalypse—shines down on them, illuminating Will’s face just enough for Mike to see him clearly.

Beautiful is the only word that comes to Mike’s mind.

“I never thought this would happen either,” Will whispers back. There’s a smile tugging at his lips, small and a bit shy, and he reaches forward, tucking some of Mike’s hair back behind his ears. “Part of me thinks I’m just… gonna wake up, and this is all going to have been a dream. Or worse. A trance.”

“Pretty sure it’s not a dream,” Mike says with a laugh, and just for good measure, he kisses Will again, relishing in the way Will’s face immediately brightens. “Or a trance. Unless we’re… both dreaming. Or stuck in a trance.”

“Stranger things have happened to us,” Will points out, just to be difficult. 

Mike rolls his eyes, before pulling Will close to him and kissing him again, slower this time and with more intention. Will moves easily in his embrace, following where Mike leads the two of them until their bodies are flush against each other again, filling Mike with that familiar sense of warmth and giddiness. And because it’s Will and because he wants this as much as Mike does, and because they’re both the type of people to go all in—all or nothing—Will kisses him back without any hesitation, his tongue exploring Mike’s mouth like this is the first and last time they’ll ever get to do this and his hands carding through Mike’s hair to pull him close, close, close but not close enough. 

“I love you,” Mike breathes. The words come naturally, and though they’ve gone unspoken all night, Mike knows they haven’t gone unsaid. Every single kiss and every single glance and every single touch shared between the two of them has been a whisper of those three words over and over and over again: I love you, I love you, I love you.

And there’s not a single doubt in Mike’s mind that he means it. 

A smile forms on Will’s face as he leans away, resting his forehead against Mike’s own. He looks absolutely radiant like this, face illuminated by the soft glow of that old lamp, smile stretching from ear to ear, eyes sparkling with a warmth that screams back to Mike, I love you, I love you, I love you, with just as much enthusiasm and excitement that Mike feels in his own heart.

“I love you too,” Will whispers back, and he reaches forward, cupping Mike’s face gently. “I love you so much.”

Then, without another word, Will closes the space between the two of them once more.

**

Mike wakes the next morning to the sound of screaming.

The sound startles him right out of whatever dream he’d been having, and Mike flinches sharply, sitting up and looking around the room. His heart pounds inside his chest, and an unsettled, terrified feeling grows inside his stomach as everything inside him switches from a sleepy, even idyllic state to DANGER, DANGER, DANGER mode in a matter of seconds. 

Save for the dim light of his desk lamp, the room is relatively dark, and there’s no one else in the room except for Mike and—

And Will.

There’s a terrified look on Will’s face, and much like Mike, he’s looking around the room, eyes darting back and forth nervously like he has no idea where he is or what’s real or whether or not they’re safe. He’s trembling too, hands clenched tightly around Mike’s old blanket, and he seems like he’s just another few moments away from a complete breakdown.

And instantly, Mike’s mind switches from the DANGER, DANGER, DANGER mode to his Will needs me mode.

“Hey,” Mike whispers, scooting close to Will and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Will immediately flinches, startled by the touch, and Mike winces, running his hand up and down Will’s army gently. “Hey, it’s just me, Will. You’re okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream. Whatever you saw… it’s not real.”

That promise – it’s not a new one. After all, the last two-and-a-half years have been full of sleepless nights brought on by otherworldly nightmares. Nobody has been spared from them, but of everyone in the Party, Will has probably suffered the most, thanks to his deeper connection to One. These nightmares are nothing new, and yet, every single time Will suffers from one of them, it feels like a knife in Mike’s heart.

He can’t make the nightmares go away, but he can be there for Will. He can sit with Will until the darkness fades away, back into a vague memory, and he can hold Will and make promises that It’ll be okay; you’ll be okay; I’m not going anywhere; we’ll get through this. That’s really all Mike can do, and so God damn it, that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Usually, it helps. It takes time, but usually, Will is receptive to the comfort, always leaning in close and allowing Mike to hold him until the terror subsides. 

But for some reason, this time, Will isn’t so receptive. 

It takes a moment, but out of nowhere, Will pushes Mike away, that terrified look still remaining on his face. He’s even paler than he was just a second ago, causing confusion to grow in Mike’s heart and mind. Before Mike can say anything though, Will whispers, “Mike… we have to go. Now.”

There’s an urgency in his voice unlike anything Mike has ever heard before, and that, coupled with the look of pure fear in Will’s eyes, is enough for Mike to understand exactly what’s going on, even before Will says anything about it. After all, there’s only one thing that would scare Will this much, and really, it’s just their shared, awful luck that this would happen today of all days. 

They just got together—finally, after years and years of dancing around each other and hiding from themselves and one another and never fully knowing if their feelings would be reciprocated. They just crossed that line from just friends into something more, and now…

Now, the world is actually, quite literally about to end. Now, the two of them stand on the precipice of something that could change everything and could ultimately decide the fate of the rest of the world. Now, the past five years of having their lives uprooted by the Upside Down will come to an end, one way or another.

Mike swallows the lump in the back of his throat, and he turns, meeting Will’s eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he asks quietly, though he already knows the answer. 

A grim expression forms on Will’s face, and he takes another slow, shuddered breath, before nodding. “Yeah,” Will whispers back. “It’s him. One’s back, and we… we have to go. Now.”

The words before it’s too late hang on the end of Will’s sentence—unspoken, but not unsaid. He doesn’t have to say anything else or give any other details. Not yet at least. Those will come in time, as soon as they wake up the others and fill them in on what’s happening. But for right now, just between the two of them, all that Will has said is enough. 

And Mike gets the awful feeling that… that one way or another, today is going to be the end.

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He takes a deep breath. In and out. In and out. In and out. Then, a bit more confident, “We’ll go wake the others up, and we’ll put an end to this. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Those words aren’t ones that he has any business promising, and both of them know it. Still, Will’s shoulders do relax just a little bit, and he scoots close to Mike once more, taking Mike’s hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay,” Will echoes faintly. “We’ll make it through this.”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice, like he doesn’t know if he believes those words, and truthfully, Mike doesn’t know if he does either. But he forces himself to smile anyways and leans forward, kissing Will’s forehead. “Whatever happens today,” Mike says, his voice quiet, “I want you to know I love you.”

For a moment, it’s quiet in the room—the only sound the faint inhale and exhale from Will and from Mike himself. Then, in a voice that’s impossibly soft but still full of so much certainty, Will replies, “I know… and I love you too. Always.”

He glances back up at Mike with a bittersweet look in his eyes. The words are true, and Mike has no doubt about that in his mind… But both of them know that the words are a bit of a goodbye too—the last chance they might get to say things like this to one another, in case today doesn’t go the way any of them plan for it to.

Best case scenario? 

El manages to defeat One. None of their friends or family die. Hawkins and the rest of the world are saved. Somehow, some way, they figure out how to go back to being normal, stupid teenagers, and they put all of this behind them.

Worst case scenario? 

Well… Mike doesn’t really want to think about that. Best not to deal in what ifs and best not to let himself become too terrified of the outcome. What matters most is right now and finding the others, so they can actually stand a fighting chance. 

What comes later will come later.

“Always,” Mike echoes, just as soft as Will, and because he can—he can now—he leans forward and steals a quick kiss. “Come on. We should go wake the others.”

**

Downtown Hawkins is a complete wreck.

There’s no other way to describe it. This place has been a ghost town for over two years now, run down and battered and destroyed by the monsters that come up out of the rifts from the Upside Down. That’s no surprise at all, but what is a surprise is just how quickly a ghost town can become a battlefield. 

There are monsters everywhere, and large, black vines sprout up from the middle of the town—what used to be the library but has been a massive gate leading to the Upside Down since March 1986. The monsters just keep on coming, hundreds of them crawling, flying, stumbling out of the gate with roars and snarls so loud it’s a miracle Mike’s eardrums don’t burst.

The Party—which now unfortunately includes more than just the close friends Mike’s known since his childhood—has been training for this the entire time. Over three years of preparation have led them to this moment, but even all that time spent training and learning how to fight and how not to immediately die in battle can only get them so far. There’s only a small handful of them, and there are hundreds of monsters. 

If El can’t beat One, then there’s no way this doesn’t end with every single last one of them dead at the hands of some twisted, demo-creature. 

Still, Mike keeps fighting, operating on nothing but pure adrenaline now. There’s definitely a nasty cut and a bump on his head from a tussle with some mutated demodog of sorts, but Mike barely pays any attention to that. All he can do is keep fighting, shooting down demo-creature after creature and praying to whatever fucking deity may or may not be listening that he doesn’t run out of bullets before this is all said and done.

He’s long since lost track of nearly all the other Party members. El’s off somewhere fighting One. Lucas and Dustin are nowhere to be found but hopefully still alive and hopefully with someone else in their little group. The only person Mike’s managed to keep an eye on this whole time has been Will—and only because he and Will refuse to leave one another’s side. They’ve spent the better part of this battle fighting back-to-back with one another, barrages of well-aimed bullets flying out from their rifles and into the bodies of the monsters threatening to rip them into shreds. 

If this is how it ends, then all Mike knows is that he wants to be close to Will. 

The battle feels like it goes on forever—or at least long enough that the adrenaline begins to wear off, and the rifle in Mike’s hands begins to feel too heavy, and his limbs start to feel like they’re made out of jello. The exhaustion settles in, but there’s no time for that. Not when monster after monster keeps coming through the massive gate by the old library. So, despite the fact that everything begins to become a blur around him and it feels a bit like Mike is swimming underwater, trying his damnedest just to stay afloat, Mike keeps going and going and going in this hazy state until—

Until a scream pulls him right out of the haze. 

That scream is the gravity that takes Mike’s hand and pulls, pulls, pulls until Mike is crashing back down to earth in a crumpled heap. Suddenly, Mike feels more awake and more attuned to his surroundings and filled with a newfound strength that wasn’t there before.

It comes too little, too late though.

Because as Mike turns around, looking in the direction that the scream had just come from, he feels his heart drop all the way to the bottom of his stomach. Pure panic and terror settle into his heart and mind, replacing the exhaustion from before, and in an instant, it’s like everything within Mike has been reoriented, only able to focus on one thing.

On one person.

“Will!”

The scream tears itself from Mike’s throat, and before he can even process it, Mike is sprinting to where his boyfriend now lies on the ground, bright red blood pooling around him. The two of them must’ve gotten separated only moments ago, because Will’s a few feet away from him, and there’s a whimpering, half-dead demo-creature lying halfway between the two of them. The blood from the creature flows down the street, joining the pool of Will’s blood, and Mike fights the urge to gag as he throws himself down onto the pavement beside him.

The battle rages on all around the two of them, monstrous roars still echoing in the streets of their hometown—the horrific soundtrack to what is easily the worst moment of Mike’s life.

Because up close, it becomes even more clear just how bad Will’s injuries are. What’s left of his shirt is soaked in blood, and the tattered remains of the shirt barely cover the open wounds in Will’s chest and stomach. Every single breath he takes is labored and trembling, and already, his eyes have become glassy and distant.

He’s dying. 

Will is dying, and if Mike doesn’t do anything about it, he’s going to lose him, he’s going to lose Will, oh God, he’s going to lose Will, oh God, oh God, oh God—

“M-Mike?”

It’s Will’s wheezy, strained voice that snaps Mike out of the panic, and Mike flinches sharply, looking down at his boyfriend. Will’s eyes flutter open and closed, open and closed, and he struggles to keep them open as he looks up at Mike. He’s even paler than he was just mere moments again.

He’s fading. Quickly. Faster than Mike can even keep up with, let alone do something about.

Will is dying.

And Mike is going to lose him.

“J-just hold on, Will,” Mike manages to say, except that it comes out as more of a hoarse croak. His own chest feels tight, like someone is squeezing all the air right out from his lungs, and Mike chokes back a sob, weakly reaching for Will and pulling him into his arms. “Just hold on, okay? Okay, just hold on; you’re going to be okay; just hold on—HELP! Someone please! HELP! HELP US!”

Somehow, there’s no one around. Nobody can hear the strangled, desperate screams that are coming out of Mike’s mouth; nobody is around to see him sobbing and hugging Will tighter, as if somehow holding on to him will keep him here and keep him alive. Not even the demo-creatures, who were just surrounding them and threatening their lives, are around. 

It’s just Mike and Will here.

Nobody is coming to help them.

Will is dying.

And Mike is going to lose him.

“I’m sorry,” Mike gasps, looking back down at Will through the blurry tears in his eyes. “Will, I… I don’t think… I don’t know if—”

“Shh,” Will whispers, and he reaches up weakly, placing a trembling hand on Mike’s cheek. Somehow, he manages a smile, though his lips and teeth are stained red with blood. “Shh… Mike… ‘s okay… ‘s okay.”

Every single word out of his mouth sounds strained, as if it hurts to say anything, and Mike bites back a sob, holding Will closer. “It’s not okay,” he whispers back, shaking his head. “I – I don’t… I don’t want to lose you, Will. You can’t go; please, you can’t—”

Again, Will offers him a smile, and he runs his thumb carefully, gently across Mike’s cheek. “You… you’ll be okay,” he murmurs and takes another quiet, labored breath. Then: “I… I’m glad you’re… here with me.”

The words feel like a knife in Mike’s already wounded heart, twisting deeper and deeper and delivering the final blow. That familiar feeling of desperation crawls back up to the surface as Mike tries to think of something—anything—he can do to save Will. There has to be something that can be done, some way to save Will, some solution that will keep them from the ending they’re quickly approaching.

But without anyone nearby, there’s nothing that can be done. There’s no solution, no way to save Will at this point, nothing that Mike can do.

Nothing except for sit here and stay with Will until the very end.

So, that’s exactly what Mike does.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mike promises softly, and he tilts his head, pressing a kiss against Will’s palm. The tears won’t stop now; they just keep coming and coming, dripping down Mike’s cheeks and onto the bloody ground. “I’ll stay here with you, Will… until… until…”

His voice trails off, dissolving into another sob, but Will gets exactly what Mike is trying to say. He always does, and though he looks exhausted and barely able to hold on any longer, Will smiles up at Mike and takes his other hand, interlacing their fingers. 

Time, the strange thing that it is, seems to slow down around them. It’s as if Mike is having an out-of-body experience, watching all this happen in slow motion around them—a mere observer to the worst moment of his life and the end of Will’s.

“I love you,” Will murmurs, breathless and barely audible now. 

“I love you too,” Mike whispers back, and he squeezes Will’s hand tightly, afraid to let go. The world shrinks and shrinks and shrinks until it’s just the two of them, frozen in this slow motion reality, and he watches as Will’s eyes flutter open and closed, open and closed, open… and closed.

He doesn’t open his eyes again.

And Mike’s world comes crashing down.

All at once, it’s as if the dam has burst, and another desperate, broken sob rips itself from Mike’s throat: “Will!” 

Whatever sense of peace or at least acceptance that he might have found lulled into during Will’s last moments has all but disappeared now—replaced by a gut-wrenching, all-consuming, grief that washes over him like a flood. The rest of the world still feels far away, as if nothing else in the world matters but Will, Will, Will.

Will is gone.

Will is gone. 

He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s lying here and is dead in Mike’s arms, he isn’t breathing anymore, and his blood is all over the ground and all over Mike, and he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone—

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispers brokenly, and he holds onto Will’s lifeless body, rocking back and forth in some desperate attempt to wake him up or to do something, anything, to fix this. “P-please come back, Will; please, please, please don’t go, please come back, don’t leave me, please don’t go, please, Will, please come back, please, Will—”

Time passes in its ever strange, inconsistent movement. It’s hard something that Mike can’t keep track of—not when his focus is solely on Will. 

But then, out of nowhere, something pulls Mike’s focus away from Will.

The air grows colder around the two of them; a pervasive, terrifying feeling of evil and darkness settles over downtown Hawkins. It’s familiar but jarring all at once, and Mike can’t help but shudder, holding Will’s body closer to his own. Slowly but surely, reality begins to settle back in, trickling in little by little through the cracks of Mike’s broken heart and mind.

The world around him is eerily quiet and terrifyingly still. Unlike the battlefield from before, downtown Hawkins has once again been reduced to nothing but a near silent ghost town. Gone are the vicious snarls and growls of monsters. Gone is the sound of bullets ricocheting through the air. Gone are the screams and furious cries of his friends and family.

In place of all of that is the simple sound of footsteps approaching him.

The footsteps are quickly approaching. Each step taken is one made with intention, and the movement brings that pervasive feeling of darkness closer and closer to Mike until the air around him feels near suffocating. All the while, Mike’s heart pounds in a nervous thumpthumpthump as the realization settles back in.

The battle is over.

There is no one left—no one but Mike.

All of his family, his friends, Will… they’re all gone.

And One has done it. He’s finally succeeded.

This is it.

This is the end.

As the footsteps approach, Mike takes a deep breath, and he leans down, pressing one last kiss to Will’s forehead. If this is it, if this is the end, if somehow Mike is the last person left of the Party, then he won’t go down without a fight. It doesn’t matter how futile it is. Mike has to at least try.

So, he gathers up all the courage left inside of him, and Mike lifts his head, daring to look One in the eye. 

Icy blue eyes meet Mike’s own for the first time as something akin to a smile forms on One’s face. He looks pleased—amused even—and stops, just a few feet away from Mike and Will. “Michael Wheeler,” One says, voice low and gravelly, “we meet at last.”

Mike swallows the lump in his throat, doing the best to ignore the way his stomach is twisted into knots. It feels impossible—that he would be the last person standing here after all this fighting and bloodshed. Mike’s never been much of a hero, and God knows that he barely stands a fighting chance against One. 

Still, his friends died trying to fight One and the monsters of the Upside Down. Will died trying to fight One and the monsters of the Upside Down. And if Mike is going to die too, then… so be it. 

“Rot in hell,” Mike spits, his own voice full of venom. His rifle’s long since gone, tossed aside somewhere in the desperation to save Will, so all he’s got left to fight with now are his words. Those will just have to do. 

One just chuckles and takes another step towards Mike, gesturing to the ruins of downtown Hawkins. “Look around you, Michael,” he says coldly, and against his own better judgment, Mike does so, his breath hitching as he takes in the carnage from the battle. “Do you see what I have done? Do you see what I am capable of? Do you see how futile fighting back is?” 

Suddenly, it feels as though some invisible force is wrapped around Mike, and it pulls him all the way to his feet with a terrified yelp. The force squeezes him so tightly Mike feels like he can barely breathe, and it brings him forward until Mike finds himself barely inches away from One. 

Another twisted smile forms on One’s face. He reaches forward, running his large, clawed hand down Mike’s cheek, and whispers, “You’re going to send a message for me, Michael Wheeler.” 

Barely a moment after the words have left his mouth, the visions begin.

The visions are familiar—some moments that Mike has lived through and seen with his own two eyes and others that he’s only heard about from his friends and family. They flash across his eyes at dizzying, overwhelming speeds, one right after another after another. 

At first, the visions are moments from today. Glimpses of the battle they all have just fought and lost, the screams of his friends and family, the snarls and growls of hundreds of demo-creatures coming out from the gates. But then, the visions work their way backwards, moving through moments in time from patrols over these past two years, Upside Down storms that began to cover Hawkins, and sporadic monster attacks that they almost didn’t survive.

The day at the meadow flashes through Mike’s line of sight too, before it quickly melts away into memories not belonging to himself. A jarring CRACK resonates through his mind as he watches Max’s bones snap and sees the gates ripping across all of Hawkins during that spring. Then, even before that, he sees Eddie’s death, sees his friends fighting for their lives against demobats and against vines, sees El and Max struggling against One’s power over them.

Suddenly, it’s the summer before, with the Mind Flayer and the Flayed and Billy. Starcourt Mall, going up in flames as the Mind Flayer’s fleshy form towered over and chased all of them. Black tendrils tracing up and down Billy’s face as an otherworldly horror controlled his actions. Will’s haunted whisper that the Mind Flayer was back, that this wasn’t over, that they still hadn’t escaped this.

Then, it’s the fall before that. The tunnels and the massive gate to the Upside Down. The night at the lab, with demodogs tearing through flesh and bone and with people screaming and crying for help. The Mind Flayer’s shadowy form, descending on Will, choking him, filling him up, and taking over his mind and body.

Finally, the visions end with that very first fall. The demogorgon, feasting on Brenner’s men at Hawkins Middle School. Hopper and Joyce finding Will in Upside Down. Will hiding and running for his life in the Upside Down, all alone with no one to help him. Barb screaming for help as the demogorgon rips her to shreds, and then—

Will.

Riding his bike through Hawkins, that very first night when this all began.

“Tell Will,” One’s voice whispers into the silence of Will’s bike ride through Hawkins, “that I am coming. The end is near, Michael. And there is nothing any of you can do to stop what I have been planning all along.”

One last vision flickers across Mike’s line of sight.

A memory that he still remembers, clear as day.

“It was a seven,” Will’s twelve year-old self says to Mike’s own younger self.

“Huh?” 

“The roll,” Will explains. “It was a seven. The demogorgon – it got me. Well, see you tomorrow!”

And just like that, Will’s younger self rides away, leaving Mike’s younger self standing just outside his garage.

Mike watches as the garage light flickers above his younger self.

Then, in the next instant, he finds himself falling into the darkness.

**

The darkness seems to last for an eternity. 

There’s an inky black void surrounding him as Mike falls, and he can’t help but scream, reaching out for something, anything to pull himself back up. But there’s absolutely nothing there to hold onto, so Mike just continues to fall and fall and fall, further and further into the darkness.

Then, suddenly, the darkness dissipates. The fog clears just a little bit, enough for Mike to hear someone call out his name: “MIKE!” 

Will? 

“MIKE!” the person—that’s Will, it has to be Will—calls again, more desperate this time, and Mike reaches back up, trying to grasp onto anything that will pull him out of the darkness. The way out seems just a little bit closer now, getting easier to reach out to as Will calls his name again, “MIKE! MIKE! MI—”

And with a gasp, Mike opens his eyes.

Light floods his line of sight, replacing the never-ending darkness at an overwhelmingly fast pace. Mike’s mind feels like it’s racing at a million miles an hour, and his heart is pounding inside his chest, so hard that it almost hurts to breathe. All the while, the room spins around and around and around and around and—

Suddenly, Mike’s knees buckle, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. Fortunately, someone—Will—is there to catch him, and though the two of them both stumble, Will manages to break his fall. “Mike?” he asks, voice full of concern. “Mike, hey, are you okay?” 

There are tears in Will’s eyes, and his face looks blotchy, like he’s been crying. Still, even with the worry written all over his expression, there’s relief there too, and Mike takes a shuddered breath, choosing to focus on Will. 

Will’s here. Will’s here, and he – he’s alive. He’s alive. Mike didn’t lose him. He’s not dead. Will isn’t dead.

Which means…

That entire battle must have been a vision from One. An opportunity for One to pass along a message that he’d been waiting to send. And… a warning for what’s still to come.

“Shit,” Mike whispers. “Shit. Will, we have to – he… One… I—”

“Hey, just take a deep breath,” Will says worriedly, and he hesitates, before reaching for Mike’s hand. “Just breathe, okay? Mike, you – you were in that trance for a while. We couldn’t snap you out of it, and I… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Will’s voice breaks on those last few words, breaking Mike’s heart with it. “I’m still here,” Mike reassures, reaching up and cupping Will’s cheek as gently as he can. “I’m still here, Will.”

A bright rosy blush spreads across Will’s face as his eyes widen and glance at Mike’s hand. “I know you are,” he replies quietly, “but I… I still could’ve lost you. I – I mean… we all could have.” 

The memories of seeing Will’s mangled body on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood, come back to the forefront of Mike’s mind, and he can’t help but shudder. Without giving it another thought, he wraps his arms around Will, hugging him as tight as he possibly can. 

Mike… he still has no idea how much of the past two days have actually been part of his vision from One versus how much was real. There’s no doubt in his mind that the battle itself and his encounter with One were all a result of being held in a trance, but as for… as for everything that came before that—confessing his love for Will and learning about Will’s feelings in return—Mike isn’t honestly sure. 

There’s a part of him that thinks… maybe that stuff was just too good to be true. Maybe Mike did make that all up in his mind, or maybe it was just a trick from One, designed to taunt him before delivering the final blow. Maybe what happened with Will the night before that battle was nothing more than just a dream. 

Mike swallows the lump in his throat, and he tries not to think about that as Will hugs him tighter and buries his head in Mike’s shoulder. “I’m still here,” Mike repeats, softer now than before. “We’re both still here… We’re not going to lose each other, Will.” 

“The end is near, Michael,” One’s voice echoes through his mind—the cruel threat solidified in his mind now as a promise. This isn’t over. What Mike saw in his vision… it may very well come to pass. 

And just like Will once said to him, One isn’t going to stop until he takes everything and everyone. 

“And there is nothing any of you can do to stop what I have been planning all along,” One had told him, as the visions of Will leaving Mike’s house on that fateful night had played out for him like a twisted home video. 

More importantly, One isn’t going to stop until takes Will.

Mike can’t let that happen. He can’t lose Will.

Will takes a shaky breath of his own, and he pulls away, just enough for the two of them to look at each other, and offers Mike a tiny smile. “We won’t,” he agrees softly. He hesitates, then carefully lifts his hand, resting it against Mike’s cheek. “Are you… are you okay?” 

Will’s hand is warm against Mike’s face, and his touch feels like electricity. There’s something so genuine and so tender about the way that he’s looking at Mike and the way he gently runs his thumb across Mike’s cheek, over and over again. He’s here—warm and firm and solid, close enough that Mike is able to take his hand and hold on and never let go. 

Will’s here. He’s okay. He’s safe. 

And for now, that’s all that matters. 

So, even in spite of One’s haunting message and the visions from their past and the warnings of the future, Mike finds the ability to smile. He reaches up, putting his hand over Will’s, and he nods. “I’m okay. You’re here, so… I’m okay.”

Those words cause Will’s face to turn an even brighter shade of red, but he smiles regardless, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Mike’s own. He takes Mike’s other free hand in his own and doesn’t say anything else—not that Mike needs him to. They’ve always been able to communicate without words, and this time is no different. 

Sure, the future might be bleak, and there’s no telling whether One’s visions will come to pass, even in spite of their best efforts to fight back. But right here, right now, he and Will are together. They’re both safe, and they’re both here.

All they can do is take this moment for what it's worth and hold onto each other while they still can. 

And for now, it ends in very much the same way that Mike thinks it began.

The steady yet nervous thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat that Mike can hear as loud as his own. A body nestled close beside him; an artist’s hands, smooth and soft and ever gentle, intertwined with Mike’s; a boy he has known for nearly his entire life and loved in some way for just as long who is here, here, here right in front—all Mike’s for the taking, just like Mike is all his. 

[goqmir]

hype level for future mtg releases (this is genuine btw i cant sleep because my leg hurts so bad let me have this)

Murders at Karlov Manor (Q1 2024):

15%. i kinda get the vibes. theres some interesting things generally but im not sure this one is for me. i like clue tokens so im excited for some support in that area but. ill probably pass on buying any of this

Outlaws of Thunder Junction (Q2 2024):

like 35%? its cool! i like the west quite a lot, everyones excited for deadbeat dad oko. im just not expecting a ton and id love to be proven wrong! new planes are always fun and it would be a delight to fall in love with thunder junction but my expectations are very tempered. supposedly its about "villians"-- of which my biggest dream is a reveal of a phyrexian that wasnt killed onscreen to be hanging out there. rakdos would be cool too.

Modern Horizons 3 (Q2 2024)

90%. i cant wait frankly. modern horizons 1 and 2 feature some of my favorite magic cards ever and ive never been around for a modern horizons release so im just so excited. cant wait. big fan i bet there will be so many cool cards dude holy shit

Assassin's Creed (Q3 2024):

5%. i dont give a shit about assassins creed. i like the aesthetics of black flag i guess. this is a set with boosters and the cards will supposedly be modern legal(?) but they arent draftable so thats gonna be a shitshow when the boosters are overpriced and you cant even run limited events with them like MAT but like. at least MAT was awesome and had a bunch of banging cards and introduced cool deciduous mechanics to standard and gave us [[Rocco, Street Chef]]. all this is giving us is ezio or some shit

Bloomburrow (Q3 2024):

75%!! woo!!!!! i cant wait for the little animals set. i like little animals. i would really like one of them to wear a thimble

things i want specifically out of bloomburrow:

give us kwain lore! kwain is such an important little guy to our playgroup we would all love a new kwain or some kwain backstory and there has never been a better time for it

fox tribal 🥺🥺🥺🥺 boros please plzplzplz i need fire foxes i need evil foxes i need foxes so bad i want a fox tribal commander ill do anything

Duskmourn (Q3 2024):

45%. wrenny is hyped for this one but i dont think ill be biting tbh. its cool! i like the vibes :) just not for me is what it seems like right now. maybe like LCI the set design and mechanics will be so sick that its just awesome but the setting isnt catching me

Not gonna talk about innistrad remastered i will not be buying that. give me anime art tamiyo

"Tennis" 2025 (death race across multiple planes with cars):

15%. i like vehicles but like. i feel like this one will kinda skew corny in a way i wont vibe with. the technology seems like kind of a lot too. cool idea, i hope its executed well

"Ultimate" 2025 (Return to Tarkir):

65%! i like tarkir :) they wont print the stupid fetches but whatever. tarkir is super swag and i hope they can resolve the weird multiverse tarkir thing and give us a swag set i believe in them. also ugin reappearance maybe........

Final Fantasy 2025:

100%. i am so onboard with final fantasy dude i feel like it will be so fucking cool compared to like marvel or doctor who or whatever. final fantasy fits so perfectly with the other mtg planes and theres so many interesting things to pull from every game could be its own set so the fact that theres like so much shit there like its so exciting like i cant wait for this one. im gonna play final fantasy 6 with wrenny before it comes out so thats exciting too teehee ^_^

"Volleyball" 2025 (top down space opera set):

95%. a space opera could be so fucking cool. im worried theyll fumble the bag and make it really fucking star warsy and thats a truly terrifying thought but i have faith that we can get so see some more interesting and solemn parts of space in magic the gathering. i think a plane with fledgeling space operations and wild star littered frontiers would be so fucking sick and thats like maybe one of my dream sets. please dont fuck this one up

"Wrestling" 2025 (Lorwyn reimagining)

cool. i like what they did to kamigawa. um idk 30%

"Yachting" 2025 (Arcavios/strixhaven)

yippee!!! 55%? i like strixhaven but showing off more of arcavios is what im really super into here cuz i feel like that could be a lot of fun. its an interesting plane i wanna see more

um anyway ill try to sleep again now i guess

[sugaredrhubarb]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

tagged by @woodswit 💌

whose blog ive been lurking on for a bit now and whose book is near the top of my tbr so i will hopefully get to talk about soon!

1. are you named after anyone?

first name not really (tis a common noun so kinda?), but middle name is feminized version of my mum's dad

2. when was the last time you cried?

the other day from a book i think?

out of the crying everyday phase now that we're a couple weeks out from breakup so thats a yay

3. do you have kids?

i'm pretty young so no. but, i have always wanted them (got called maternal from a very young age, we don't have to talk about what that did to my psyche)

4. what sports do you play/have played?

did very minimal karate, ballet, gymnastics as a kid and then played soccer into highschool until i was too concussed <3

5. do you use sarcasm?

actually something im trying to lean on less - i try to be a kind person and find i lean on sarcasm as a defense mechanism even when its not how i want to be interacting with people

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

probably something cliché like eyes but also the energy they are giving off and if they have humour about them, if that makes sense? not sure how to explain it other than some people are just heavier or lighter beings

7. what’s your eye colour?

dark brown, i used to not really like them but got this insane text from a guy friend™️ once so there's that

8. scary movies or happy endings?

firmly happy endings, im an absolute p*ssy with a pension for nightmares so keep scary shit away from me

9. any talents?

I'm a good talker, always could improv a speech or articulate my point well which has come in pretty handy in academic writing

i also can solo the shit out of a canoe so

10. where were you born?

born and raised in the same canadian city

i like to leave breadcrumbs of mystery

11. what are your hobbies?

reading and talking about books generally, watch quite a few sports with varying degrees of intensity (love hockey but have had a harder time with it over the past few years with how bad the culture is), a lot of time looking at/talking about politics but thats also my degree

also not sure if it counts but i really do love being a part of fandom/internet spaces

12. do you have any pets?

a family dog back home with my parents!

13. how tall are you?

about 5'9 which i think is pretty tall and i am very self conscious about

14. favourite subject in school?

oo it shifted a lot over time. i loved math early on because i picked it up really easily but that was a really hard subject to maintain when i was in and out of school for health reasons. so it moved to the humanities/lib arts

always enjoyed english and I'm a Politics, Philosophy, and Economics(bleh) major so do with that information what you will

15. dream job?

aha thinking about the future is terrifying. i'd really like to teach in the polisci field just because i have so many thoughts about the importance of education there but every now and then i consider being a librarian

or the younger wife of a rich man who wants to give me his money for books and philanthropy would work too

absolutely zero pressure tags of those i love and/or would love to get to know better: @chai-isms @ceilidho @ohbo-ohno @heatherdewhoney @ghosts-cyphera @winterrose527 @thegoodbutter @bluemoonjeans

and anyone else who would like to but im shy and terrified of annoying people (ill bring it up to my therapist)

[lesinquietes]

Okok more Alucard and his Deity!Darling 🪽

Off Limits

18+ (minors dni) // angst, yandere

Alucard decides that your rays of destruction are as breathtaking as you are. He watches as you destroy a cult that threatened your worshippers. You attempted to reason with them. In response, they killed. You’re not a cruel goddess; you gave them a chance to come correct. Now, anything you inflict upon them is justified.

When you’ve calmed down, he gives you proper space before commending your efforts. You don’t respond until he comments that you’re naturally talented in the art of calamity. Judging by the way you light up, it’s something you pride yourself on. He smiles endearingly as he listens to you discuss how hard you’ve worked to hone your magic.

“My father is the Master of time and space; all the same, he’s known for his debauchery. Where does that leave me? In the realm of chaos, of course!”

The enthusiasm that possesses you fills him with an unfamiliar sensation. It isn’t lust — though, that’s certainly present, too. He supposes it’s contentment. He isn’t tolerating your banter. On the contrary, he wants it; anything to keep you in his vicinity for more than a fleeting second. It doesn’t last.

The notion of corrupting a deity, of all beings, is incredibly tempting in its tenacity. He doesn’t know what will happen if he feeds on you, if he turns you, if he steals you away from your family. The unknown is attractive to one who exists as an enigma himself.

The following evening, he finds you in the library. Whenever you arrow at the Hellsing estate, you isolate yourself from others. It was a component of the deal you struck with Integra. You’ll help them, so long as you get peace and quiet while you do it. It’s a wonder why you haven’t demanded he leave sooner when he rears his head.

Since that first night you coaxed him out of the shadows, he manifests in his usual red trench coat and hat. There’s no need to hide from something omniscient of the forces around her. You don’t spare him a glance when he forms. He pretends it doesn’t irritate him. He’s used to commanding rooms, let alone women of all types, from his sheer good looks and gentlemanly charm. You, however, aren’t the type to lose sight of your sense of self. There’s far too much pride in that pretty head of yours.

“Sweet, terrifying Goddess.” He announces himself boisterously, with a hollow, raspy voice. “I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

You inhale deeply. Initially, he thinks you could be happy to see him. Then, you release the heaviest sigh he’s heard in centuries.

“You mean where I always am in this filthy manor?”

Your snobby nature is showing. It lights his chest ablaze with passion. Finally, someone who isn’t afraid to speak their genuine thoughts. You could spew the most twisted views and he would still be transfixed by your nonchalance.

“Walter and the others do their best,” he drawls, leaning on the bookshelf directly behind your chair. “But you and I both know that good help is hard to find.”

“What are you doing here, bat?”

He laughs out loud. Bat. Your insults are getting more creative.

“Simply checking on my favourite deity. Don’t think me so full of foul intentions that I would attempt to assassinate a guest in the home of my master.”

You scoff.

“If the legends are correct, you killed many a guests in your own home. Why not me?”

Your questions is rhetorical. Inwardly, he answers it anyway. It’s because it’s not time yet; when he kills you, it will be to rebirth you into one of his kind — or something in between. Miraculously, such an innate urge stimulates his willingness to go against Integra to have you.

“Have you uncovered anything during your time studying?”

He figures he’ll divert the conversation back to work. You don’t seem like you’re in the mood for chitchat, and he doesn’t want to depart yet. It’s a safe way for him to be with you.

In retort, you hum pensively.

“Alexander Anderson has been modified to regenerate. They call him God’s monster — and we don’t claim him, mind you — but does have a weak spot.”

Alucard chuckles. Anderson. His arch nemesis. Potentially, a reincarnation of Van Hellsing that’s intent on stopping him once more.

“Is it his relationship to Catholicism, as humans know it be?”

“No.”

You close the book you’re reading and set it aside. Hastily, you select another one from your pile. In front of you, there are words scribbled in a large notebook. They’re impossible for him to read; they’re written in dialect he doesn’t understand. When you rest your pen on an empty page, you make eye contact with him for the first time today.

“Evisceration.”

Alucard stares, starstruck by you. He’s in awe by your ferocity, just as he was when you did away with those cultists. You take his silence as a lack of his comprehension and continue.

“He can’t regenerate if there’s nothing left, can he?”

It invigorates him. He feels an intense desire to have you, to shower you with encouragement as his Queen, and to vanquish this world together. He doesn’t recall the last instance wherein he’s yearned for camaraderie like this. Perhaps he could have had this with Integra, was he not her servant.

“As you wish.” He purrs, smirking with murderous glee. “Then you and I will ensure there’s nothing left of that paladin when he returns.”

Silence settles as you reside in the aftermath of his promise. You aren’t as moved by the sequence as he is. He wouldn’t permit anyone, other than you, to partake in the death of Anderson by his side. Of course, you wouldn’t know that, nor would you care. You’re not interested in his feelings, and you’ve made that clear for now. It doesn’t stop him from prodding at you here and there. Vampires tend to toy with their prey.

“Tell me, my dear, have you considered taking a mate?” He grins like the predator he is. “You must be dreadfully tired, having to protect yourself all the time.”

The question catches you off guard. You have, in fact, thought of seeking a partner to spend your time with. It would have to be someone you trust with your life, if they’re to have your back; you wouldn’t accept a lover who couldn’t protect you. Unfortunately, no one of that calibre has come along in your years of living.

“I have not, Dracula.” Your reply is swift and finite. “And it would do you well to remember that your master has advised us not to converse.”

He growls. You make this comment when you grow bored of his banter. He must have overstepped. Very well, then; he’ll go. Regardless of your icy demeanour, he knows he’ll get what he wants in the end. He doesn’t have to like your treatment, though. You’re lucky he’s attached to you, lest you be in a heated exchange with him for your rejection.

“You speak my name so intimately, and yet, you shoo me away as if I’m nothing more than a pest.” The beast scowls, visibly agitated. “Confusing witch.”

You perk up, eyes glimmering white and forehead creased with anger. He’s disappointed that he can’t stay to admire your prowess. You grit your teeth and spit your vitriol.

“What did you call me, bloodsucker?”

But he’s gone before any the slur can land. You search for his presence. He’s retreated to the depths of the manor. He won’t be back for a while, if at all tonight.

Once you find tranquility, you pass the hours alone reading, uninterrupted by any other but your intrusive thoughts. You can’t get that bastard vampire out of your mind. It’s been this way for a while. As infuriating as he is, you’re growing used to his daunting presence and teasing inquiries. You wonder if this is what it means to miss someone.

[exitwound]

hi zoe i love ur blog and opinions. u always have just amazing analysis and like. general ideas that just are mindblowing. and i was wondering if you're often inspired by art and stuff around you that helps you come to your thoughts? asking because honestly i always feel like im stealing and plagiarizing other people's ideas and thoughts when im inspired by someone's work to create my own - like my tone or style is too similar, or my words are practically the same. and it feels awful because im like is this even inspired or am i literally just stealing? it feels like i can't ever create work with my own thoughts and idk what to do with that. sorry i know that was like a ton of info feel free to ignore

wow omg thank you. this is crazy to hear because i would personally say that the last time i had an idea it was about dean winchester. but for sure those ideas would really really have not had been posts if i didn’t see other ideas and stretch them to a new location on the media body. but thank you.Ummm i would say that it’s difficult to tell when i have a thought where it came from except when it’s not and know exactly where it came from. but definitely i don’t live in a vacuum and i am always always always always always very inspired by everything and by art and art and art and art and other peoples analyses and ideas about art and and and and and. and honestly i think that originality of ideas is a little bit nothing i think that the meaning is mostly in the expression of the idea bc like most art is a pretty simple idea but it’s done welll it commits to the idea and it trusts you to be blown away. slightly unrelatedly I think there is enormous value in intentionally attempting forgeries of others work although of course for this you wouldn’t pass it off as your own. Back to being related i think generally it’s more difficult to actually plagiarize on accident than you might fear. sometimes i worry im writing something i just forgot i read but there was kind of nothing i could do about that worry so i decided to move on and anyway if i forgot i read it then i definitely forgot the context so im already doing something new with it. i find that when i consume a lot of one type of writing for example like if im doing an english paper i sometimes slip into writing in the same style of the book im doing a paper on without realizing. Maybe a solution to feeling stuck in copying a style is to just get it out of you like new document and purge it just keep copying until you’ve run out of recombinations based on this source material and then you begin to scratch at the surface of the thing you were submerged in and break into the new yourself that swallowed a source like a spider and uses its thread to make a new web but it’s not your thread but it’s your web. I think that tends to happen to me in a way when I have an obsession on an idea i first encountered expressed in art and then began trying to re-express it myself. Which is super normal and most art is the re-expression of other expressions for sure. i don’t know i guess i used to be very terrified of plagiariaztipn in my poetry and then i started reading poems and i would find lines in things i had never read before that were very similar to things i had written already and i started realize you will be copying something whether youve seen it already or not so thats that and not really because of this and more because of fractals but definitely relevant to this is i started to make a belief system that the wider your lens the more infinitely small the number of things and all you can do is try to say something that in all of history has never been uttered but means something that everyone who ever lived has felt you know. i hope this helps definitely most of my thoughts are not my own but once i think them they’re mine and immediately being recontextualized with the other thoughts and the new environment if that makes sense… it comes from where it comes from . sorry if this isn’t helpful but i hope it is much love sending reassurance and confidence xxxx🪰🫙🥣🔌📡🪆🪣

[rose-and-lemongrass]

Okay I'm trying to be chill about the fact my computers busted and I can't edit sooo here's my favorite horror films I watched in 2023!! So far, at least, I'll update if I find some more great ones in the next month. These are in no particular order.

Talk To Me (2023) LOVED IT. I was genuinely really really stressed while watching it. Honestly give me a character I like and put them through the ringer and I will be invested. I REALLY wanted Riley to make it. I know some people don't like the end but I did. It's a very existential and depressing ending but I thought it was fitting.

Sissy (2022) This is a super super underrated movie. Barely any discussion of it all online. I thought it was incredible; it perfectly nailed what it feels like to be in a social situation you know you don't belong in. I felt called out several times. Cecilia is a really fascinating character too, and I loved the social media aspect.

Creep 2 (2017) I couldn't believe how into this movie I was. It's basically just two really weird characters manipulating each other (with one being way way way more successful than the other) and it's so wild to watch. I liked the first Creep but the relationship here was so fascinating. I almost feel like this movie would have been better as a standalone bc we as the audience know that Aaron is a serial killer. It would be fascinating to be like Sara and not know for sure. Either way though, I loved it, I hope they make a third one.

Terrifier 2 (2022) Dude I LOVED this movie!! Controversial opinion maybe but I thought it was fantastic. Sienna is such an amazing character, Art the Clown was on his A game. I weirdly resonated with the family stuff (i got emotional at points) The special effects were great. I know it has a reputation. And it has earned that reputation. I have found no one I can comfortably show this movie to that I trust isn't going to be horribly traumatized. Which sucks bc when I saw this in theaters I got like. Sexually harassed. And I dont want it to happen when I see the third one. I wish I had a buddy I could take. But regardless every time I watch it I have a blast, and I really wanna make a video discussing this series soon bc I have so many thoughts!!

Halloween (1978) Yeah everyone was right this movie is awesome. I'm totally going to add it to my halloween watchlist every year.

Candyman (1993) Yeah again it's really really good, everyone was right lol. Really dragging my feet on the remake bc honestly this movie is basically perfect.

Cube (1997) I always thought I'd like Cube. And I did. It's really weird and psychological and cool. I watched it like 11 months ago so I don't feel like I have a lot to say right now, but I just remember how much I was invested while watching it and how much I gushed about it after I finished.

Deadstream (2022) Honestly this was most fun I had with a movie all year. I was dying laughing the entire time. I've watched it three times and I sent the opening scene to everyone I know. It's just a very funny and very spot on parody of YouTubers and I love it

Fresh (2022) I don't love the abrupt ending but the rest is basically perfect. The levels of performance during the dinner scene OH MY GOD. And it's a really fun and disturbing exploration of how terrible dating is and I appreciate that a lot.

Hereditary (2015) This movie hurt the entire time and I loved it. Toni Collette's performance is the best I have ever seen, I am actually furious she wasn't nominated. Her screams man, they are haunting. Also really realistic dream dialogue I pegged right away it was a dream bc that's exactly how people talk in my dreams. This is a movie with a lot of layers and something about it resonated with me, especially after the terrible terrible year I had.

Midsommar (2019) I vibed with this one hardcore. I think its just weirdly cathartic to see someone in a bad social situation get accepted while the person who put them in that situation gets rejected. Again because of the terrible year I had. But also its bad that that happens! Like its creepy how easy it is to be taken in by a cult. I also didn't feel the length at all I was very very invested the whole time. My friend Emily absolutely hates this movie though lol

Trick R Treat (2007): I didn't find it scary at all. But I vibed with it. It just FELT like Halloween, and some of the stories really really worked for me. Particularly the werewolf one and the one with the zombie kids.

VHS (2012): This is entirely because of the Amateur Night and 10/31/98 segments. I love those segments to death, I've watched them over and over. I still haven't watched Siren (the full length Amateur Night adaption) but I am so psyched they kept the same actress. She was an absolute star I'm planning on watching it entirely for her.

It Follows (2014) I know I can't keep saying I vibed with these movies but I did. I love the dreamlike quality, the ambiguity, the idea behind the monster is actually one of the most terrifying things I can imagine. Even if you get rid of it there's a chance it'll come back to you so you're never safe. Certain sequences were really really cool. Also one of the best jumpscares of all time in this. Like I don't even like jumpscares, they never get me, but this one did! Also I adore the opening sequence and how it's complete nonsense until you rewatch it and realize what's happening.

Infinity Pool (2023) I went in completely 100% blind. It was a wild ride that's for sure. I said "oh fuck me" full volume at one point if that tells you anything. Honestly I have nothing to say about the plot but the feelings this movie evoked in me were intense. Really good movie for someone who secretly hates themselves and is scared that everyone around them does too, I guess, because it captures that feeling perfectly.

[rollforjackass]

WHOOOOOO MISSION IMPOSSIBLE!!! dead reckoning spoilers under the cut

what mission impossible does in terms of fucking with my PTSD, it makes up for with hot women. amen

VERY funny chase sequences, 2 new characters who pulled their weight in gold from the second they stepped onscreen. the airport scene was immaculate, from luther & benji trying to solve shit on their own and roping ethan in in the most cryptic way possible (the bomb scene with benji broke my fucking heart) to the constant sleight of hand that reminded me of the first movie. kittridge and the white widow's semi-familial relationship was very unexpected and sweet

also, AI AS A VILLAIN!!!!!!! bitch i did not have my brain chemistry rewired by person of interest and a warforged dnd character i made just to not enjoy that. benji's voice being used to misdirect ethan fucked me up in so many ways, and its insistence on stories was very fun because as we all know, there are many different stories out in the world, and many different versions of each one. i loved that pom fulfilled the AI's prophecy that she would betray gabriel NOT BECAUSE OF THE REASON IT THOUGHT, but because it betrayed HER over a possible course she hadn't even taken yet

i AM very worried about benji for the second part, they made a point of showing him on EVERY line of that epilogue that referenced death. "the closer someone is to you, the harder to keep them alive" > benji's face (watching ethan, which says as much about benji as it could foreshadow for ethan); "should your agents be captured or killed" > benji's face. it also showed his face on a line similar to "do it alone", which makes me TERRIFIED that he'll take on the entity in the sevastapol sphere by himself and have to make a grand heroic sacrifice in the process, at which point i'll fill my pockets with stones and toss myself bodily into the nearest lake

that said, dead reckoning might be my least favorite of the franchise, and not just because it was overblown and grandiose and a two-parter. it feels like they saw the john wick movies and went 'That's what the people want', when the reason people love mission impossible in the first place is because of its rock solid ensemble cast and the elaborate deceptions that make it a Spy franchise, not just an Action one.

now the big issue. ilsa my love. i don't think ilsa is actually dead - she simply would Not lose to gabriel, she has been fighting to stay alive every second of her life - but i do think her sacrifice was necessary to get grace on their side. so i think that's a plan that we'll see pay out in the second movie.

but if it's Not a plan and they just killed her like that........girl what the fuck is happening on this day

(also the way that benji reacted to her death, and the way he hid it from the team and slapped the tears away to get back to work, thanks i hate it)

like i won't be generous with the franchise and say it's always done its female characters right - in fact i feel like 90% of the praise i see for characters like jane carter and ilsa faust comes from the fact that we as a fandom scooped them up and said 'you deserve better' and created art and fics and meta that fleshed out the parts of them that weren't created to add sex appeal/romance tom cruise. but the franchise has at least done Better for them than dead reckoning did. they didn't even give pom's character a name, dude (EDIT YES THEY DID I’M A FOOL HER NAME IS PARIS)

i think their problem is that they are Very Very good at creating wonderfully complex and obviously flawed female characters, but when they don't know what to do with them anymore, they fall into a box that says Ethan's Love Interest. and by god i will wrest grace from that box so long as i am breathing i can tell you that

that said, i can see why they made the creative choices that come across to me as bad faith. pom being a nameless henchman but ethan Still goes out of his way to save her life hammers home the ways that humans are different from AI, and how unique ethan is as an agent. grace's name being a random throwaway alias that she is then trapped with bc she keeps being chased by the people she used it with is reminiscent of her stealing the key and then being trapped in an epic struggle she never wanted. even ilsa dying is a way for her to take her story into her own hands: after so long of being treated as dispensable by MI-6 and the syndicate, she is the one who decides when and who she dies for, and why she dies. (even though she's not dead)

anyway, complaints aside, always a fun movie. extremely funny car chase. women are hot. pom klementieff is feral and i adore her. i have thoughts for days and that mission impossible fic i've got going is about to take OFF

[feral-lore-creature]

oh boy oh boy oh boy am i here to tell you how much that was not rhetorical.

i guess the best place to start wpuld be simply with HR Giger and his rise to fame with his biomechanical artwork. Biomech, as it sounds, is the combination of organics and mechanics, most often represented with human/animal anatomy where joints are replaces with gears and pistons, but infused with muscles and tendons. Gigers art was particularly inspired by Salvador Dali, HP Lovecraft, and Alfred Kubin

(some examples of their work in order of who was listed)

(The Temptation of St. Anthony ,The Shaggoth,Homage to Rimbaud)

Giger was enlisted to the design set by Ridley after he viewed Giger "Necronimicon IV", for which the Xenomorph was designed after.

"Giger's design for the Alien evoked many contradictory sexual images. As critic Ximena Gallardo notes, the creature's combination of sexually evocative physical and behavioral characteristics creates 'a nightmare vision of sex and death. It subdues and opens the male body to make it pregnant, and then explodes it in birth. In its adult form, the alien strikes its victims with a rigid phallic tongue that breaks through skin and bone. More than a phallus, however, the retractable tongue has its own set of snapping, metallic teeth that connects it to the castrating vagina dentata.'"

The Alien is meant to incite sexual horror in men specifically, between ita phallic shaped head/inner tongue and vaginal secondatry mouth, whule still maintining no sexual dimorphism (except feom the queen) so you cant tell if its a male or female.

"however, he could not conceive of an interesting way for it to get onto the ship. Inspired after waking from a dream, Shusett said, "I have an idea: the monster screws one of them", planting its egg in his body, and then bursting out of his chest. Both realized the idea had never been done before, and it subsequently became the core of the film. "This is a movie about alien interspecies rape", O'Bannon said in the documentary Alien Evolution. "That's scary because it hits all of our buttons." O'Bannon felt that the symbolism of "homosexual oral rape" was an effective means of discomforting male viewers."

after this point all of my thoughts devolve into a garble of pointing and hand flapping so enjoy what i was able to provide and i hope we become moots bc i wanna talk abt alien w ppl so so bad

BY THE VOID, THANK YOU! This is so well done. I fucking LOVE IT. I'd LOVE being moots! 😭 I need somebody to info dump on, too!

Putting my own thoughts below the cut so nothing gets too long.

I always thought the idea of making (usually cis) men uncomfortable via graphic, fictional representations of rape was SUCH a good change of pace. It's refreshing, not just in terms of "flipping the script", but the way it's presented is often beautiful, and grotesque.

I remember watched the "horror" (read: fetish) movie "Don't Breathe" with my FATHER not knowing the plot twist (because that's the point of watching the damn movie...) It made me so fucking uncomfortable. It's just a fetish film, honestly. It handles extreme, very real events with no grace or creative liberty. It's horrible.

ANYWAY! Back to Aliens, I think that's also why I fucking LOVE the hive system the Xenomorphs work in. I know some people don't enjoy these terrifying, eldritch organisms being "reduced" to something so earthly as a hive system, but let's be honest, it's effective way to reproduce/gain numbers, and it's still just as scary.

That's the reason I adore the QUEEN herself. Her design is powerful, and elaborate. She sure as hell plays and looks the roll of queen. She's the epicenter of the species who commands all those under her as she "births" more of the monstrosities to destroy worlds in her children's wake. She's the only feminine being binding the hive together into an organized destructive force, and she doesn't even need a male to fertilize the eggs. (<- also a detail I really like.) She's quite literally an evil girl boss LMAO I love her.

These are the main reasons (and I'm sure there's more,) as to why I love HR Giger's original art work, and how it was shown in the first two movies, then later beautifully presented again in Prometheus 2012. (<- somebody please be obsessed with the Engineers with me, I love them, and need to bang one asap LMAO)

It's an amazing example of art that's meant to "comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable."

[artzychic27]

Any mlb as parks and rec quotes maybe even the sb and ib one

Aurore: Can you be civil?

Jean: I am civil. He's the stupid garbage head doo-doo face.

Aurore: That's perfect.

—

Marc: So I go by Narc now. They already had a Mark in the Parks department, and they suggested that they change my name to Narc. I told them my real name was Marc with a C, and they said "who cares?" What a fun bunch of guys.

—

Nino: Hey, John McClane!

Adrien: Who's that?

Nino: Die Hard.

Adrien: The battery?

—

Nathaniel: You know, "nerd culture" is mainstream now. So, when you use the word "nerd" derogatorily, it means you're the one that's out of the zeitgeist.

Alix: Yes, that's perfect. Just like that: be incredibly boring.

—

Austin T: How do I fight back? Give me some options.

Marc: Do you… Want me to seduce Austin A?

Austin T: How would that help?

Marc: I don't know. I just want to see if I can do it.

Austin T: I appreciate that but I don't know if it's something worth losing your virginity over.

—

Chloé: Eagleton is a bunch of rich snobs, and that's coming from someone who has a Mercedes with a Harman Kardon Logic 7 Surround Sound System.

—

Kim: Max, you... blew it! Take one last look, Max, because you'll never see this body again!

—

Ismael: *talking into tape recorder* 7:34 p.m. Man dressed as a nerd. Female dressed as... crazy witch.

Adrien/Marinette: …

Adrien: Neither of us is in costume.

Ismael: Case closed. Candy please.

—

Alix: It's your fault Manon is missing!

Nathaniel: You were the one who was supposed to be watching her!

Marinette: Nath, could you please shut up? I can't hear myself not talking to Adrien!

Adrien: Cosette, I don't know what I did wrong.

Marinette: Cosette, tell him he's stupid.

Cosette: Oh, all of you shut up! Adrien, Marinette is mad because you said 'Awesome sauce' instead of 'I love you, too'. Marinette, he loves you, so stop being a child. Alix, we all know that you lost Manon. Nathaniel, you shouldn't have been burying your face into funnel cakes. Now all of you apologize.

—

Reshma: There are two things I know about white people: they like Matchbox 20, and they are terrified of curses.

—

Ivan: You can't say your favorite kind of cake is birthday cake, that's like saying your favorite kind of cereal is breakfast cereal.

Kim: Mmm. I love breakfast cereal.

—

Lila: I shot Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Chloé: You shot my Mercedes?! *She tackles Lila to the ground*

—

Sabrina: I didn't even ask you last night: What is going on with Chloé?

Alya: You just violated rules number one and three. You lose your coffee privileges. *Throws Sabrina’s coffee out of its cup*

—

Nathaniel: Every great work of art contains a message, and the message of this painting is, "Get out of my way unless you want an arrow in your ass."

—

Butler Jean: *teaching Chloé and Adrien how to do laundry* You always separate your lights from your darks.

Adrien: That's racist.

—

Zoé: *To Félix* Enjoy the fact that your overlords are a frail old woman and a tiny baby.

—

Zoé: I thought you needed some air, even if that air is fouled by the stench of European socialism.

—

Zoé: I'd invite you for a drink, but where would we find one here?

Félix: Are you kidding? This is London. There's a pub over there, there's a pub over there, and there's a pub between those two butcher shops.

Zoé: Let's go to that one, but we'll be stopping by those two butcher shops first.

—

Rose: Look, I don't like to throw around the word "butthead" too often. If you call everybody a butthead then it kinda loses its impact. But I can say without hesitation that Austin Q is being a real dick.

—

Ali: Hey! This is my girlfriend Rose, and this is Rose’s girlfriend Juleka.

Rose: Hi.

Mendeleieve: Hello. Oh. Wait, sorry. What's the situation?

Ali: What do you mean?

Mendeleive: How does this work?

Ali: Rose is gay but she's straight for me and she's gay for Juleka and Juleka really gay for Rose. And I just like Juleka.

Juleka: It's not that complicated.

Rose: No.

Mendeleive: Oh. Yeah. Sure. *In confessional* The thing about youth culture is I don't understand it.

[vhvrs]

Hello I'm so sorry to randomly put this in your inbox, but I have some real questions that I'm kind of too scared to ask anyone else?

I think I'm... I think I finally admitted that I might be trans? I think? I've been so terrified of calling myself that, especially out loud, because I've been so scared that I'm accidentally being transphobic when I can't even figure out my own identity? I'm AFAB, and I like having a very pretty "girl" body and even adore hyperfeminine "girl" things. Like, I love girly stuff and dressing like a girl? Is it the looking like a girl I like? But like, something has always felt off and like it wasn't quite right to just be a "she"? It's so hard to explain because for years I was just a girl, using feminine pronouns and everything. But as I've gotten older, I found myself using they/them more and more often, but it's actually in the last week or so that I've started using he/him pronouns officially instead of just in my head. And guess what? It felt amazing doing it! But here's my problem: What is it called when you're AFAB, do still really like very feminine things and "looking/acting like a girl", but want to use he/him pronouns? I'm so scared and confused and I feel so ashamed because I'm scared I'm just CIS with extra steps? Like, I see a lot of posts that say a lot of people are just muddying the waters and making things even harder for other transgender people, and I would never want to hurt anybody like that! I've tried Googling my question several times, each a different way because I was worried I wasn't wording it properly? But all the results I get are mixed and I'm confused what they mean. Am I allowed to be a boy that's... like, likes being a "girl", just not called a girl? Or at least isn't called a girl all the time? Just sometimes when I feel like it? Maybe?

I know this is all some really heavy stuff and I'm so sorry for just dropping this on you, but I really need help and I don't know where else to turn. If you're unable to help, do you know some other resources that I might try to look for? I'm sorry. You just seem so confident in yourself and your art has been really helpful, but I wanted to ask because I was hoping that I could maybe just get, like... even a sliver of what might be wrong with me? As dumb as this sounds, I'm scared of just being CIS (Again, I am so sorry for this long post, this text really got away from me)

hey i appreciate you feeling like i was the person to come to w this off the bat and not to fret about the ask at all bc im abt to overexplain myself right back - ive been in this exact same position actually! i had a long struggle moving from being a girl into being where i am now and where i am now is.... who knows! ive been figuring myself out for like. eight years at this point n i expect to keep figuring myself out even longer. the train of thought youre on reminds ne a LOT of how i felt when i started thinking i wasnt cis though so ill just kindve. dump what has helped me? and you can take what you want from it.

point blank anyone who says its possible for other trans ppl or even just ppl exploring their gender to bring harm back into the community are full of shit. they said this when i thought i was a genderfluid demigirl eight yrs ago. theyll keep saying it. it will continue to not be true. ive had friends who explored their gender identities and realized they were cis and if anything its really healthy for them and the community! its not bad to go thru that.

on topic, i could try to point you towards specific labels or communities but trying to get caught up in those can sometimes just confuse or scare you more - again speaking from experience trying to google just what i was and what i was going thru. especially trying to figure everything out at once.

like i label myself as a bi agender bc its EASY n to have a vague thing to tell ppl or put on pride icons but at the end of the day, im just theo. thats my identity n that could be yours too! when i think abt my bf, im a gay man. when im watching crazy girlies on a show, im a girl. when i want to buy nonbinary merch bc nobody makes agender merch, im nonbinary. im just theo no matter what.

you dont sound cis and thats the most important thing to remember. even if you were somehow cis w extra steps bc thats. not a thing. even if you looked n acted n dressed exactly as you did when you viewed yourself before all of this but FELT you werent that presentation, you wouldnt be cis. you could like... be a girl but a bit to the left and youd be trans.

also, perhaps changing the language you think abt yourself with may help you rule out whats going on? instead of seeing things in a v binary girl things vs boy things way? its hard bc like. gender based society but trying to not see dressing a certain way as being feminine/dressing like a girl and certain pronouns being like. boy/masculine pronouns can really help! if you mean you dont want to bind or you like dresses, then you can do those things in a masc or fem or any way u want - its YOU doing it. if you want those things to be girl things bc it helps, then theyre girl things! if seeing them as boy things helps, then they're boy things!

im sorry if i... didnt really answer your question or help ultimately but i just remember how much wanting definite answers didn't really help me at the time so i dont want to say like. oh youre nonbinary! oh youre genderfluid! oh youre a demigirl! oh youre a he/him girl! being trans is so different for everyone n thats ultimately why you may be struggling to find specific answers.

honestly? id keep doing what youre doing and trying different gender affirming things like you are. something will click as you do and youll come to realizations that, in that space, will help you a lot. perhaps itll be something that changes but it will click eventually.

i literally felt like i was transphobic towards trans men for having he/him in my pronouns for YEARS bc i wasnt Being Male Enough to earn them. but i no longer see myself as needing to be masc to prove i deserve to be called a he. to me, thats as genderless as they/them. shits weird n personal n a bit cringe.

nothings wrong w you for not having things figured out either. you will. i promise.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

thoughtfulposting about some art i made recently (readmore cus long)

this year i rly wanted to draw madoka for her birthday in a way that represents the frequency of self actualized libra, as a test for myself like how well can i put down the energy i sense visually, but also, to help myself understand my own motivations at this point in my life. i watched madoka magica for the first time in 2012 when i was 18 so its been w me for 10 years now. there’s a lot of ancient text posts scattered across my old tumblrs where im ranting about how i feel so useless and empty like madoka, i have nothing to offer except giving all of my self up to the people in my life. i see it in so many libra types, suns moons risings whatever, its like you want nothing more than to be a side character in your own life. the sun is in it’s detriment when it’s in libra because it makes your ego so weak, it often takes years to even gain the self awareness that you accidentally merge with everyone you care about to the extent that the thought of being You is terrifying. it wasnt even like anyone had to force me to be their sidekick. it just happened naturally, it was what i wanted, i was always known as someone’s best friend or partner, it’s what i was comfortable with but.. over time it wore me down, when i was alone i’d lose my mind, i grew so insecure that i had no means of self sufficiency. since the time i was 18 i slowly became more aware of the way i was sacrificing too much of myself in a way that was ultimately unproductive to everyone.. i had to cycle through the same lessons over n over again before it really REALLY sunk in. speaking of cycles, i am almost done with my saturn return, which is the first cycle of saturn that takes around 29.5 years. my saturn is in aquarius, almost exactly trine my libra sun and jupiter. saturn is also the ruling planet of my chart, being that i am capricorn rising. its a time of high pressure. everything i was doing that was  unsustainable has completely crumbled around me. i am forced to develop into my own person and for all the pain, it is giving me an unusual sense of gratitude.. so i knew that when i drew madoka i wanted to draw her by herself. and i wanted her to look strong.. i kept thinking of the world card, the way it’s representative of wholeness, fulfillment, completion of cycles. the way she’s looking back into the past w compassion as she steps forward into the future. i wasnt sure though, i was trying to come up w other ideas too. i had just started listening to bladee spiderr for the first time as i was looking up pictures of the world card. suddenly as understatement is playing it clicks w me the lyrics im hearing,,

(Gravity very up, won the World Cup) (What? What? What? What?) F the world, what? F the world, what? What? What? What? What? (Gravity very up, won the World Cup) (What? What? What? What?) (F the world, what? F the world, what?)

i just kept hearing him repeat “The World” and it felt so synchronized like it was the first time id ever heard that song, i am hearing these lyrics for the first time as im staring at the world card which i had just searched up right before it got to that part in the song. it felt like a message T-T and then this as the outro,

Never read the reason as a sign Keep this little secret in your mind Final destination is the sky Caterpillar dreamt that it could fly

yep OK i hear you loud & clear, im drawing madoka as the world! it was a cathartic thing to draw, more than most of my drawings. i cried a lot during the process, thinking about how far ive come, how much ive evolved from the scared fragile 18yr old madokaform i once was. its not like im doing amazing now but i know who i am and i am working hard to create my own purpose that will unfold just for me. this blog has helped me a lot to feel like i can explore my own world. ofc the nature of this blog is still somewhat reliant on input from others.. but i like that.. i think there’s good and distinguishable boundaries and like. this time last year i was posting to no one and it was basically like that for 6 months. and id do it again! because i post to post, whether people reciprocate or not, does not dictate my actions. it’s freeing.. it really is great though, the little tumblr community on here, it’s incredibly sweet and i love u all a lot. it’s really helping me get thru the crumbling period of my life. if you even read all this, thank you! i wanted to write this for catharsis. i want to be the hero of my story like aries bladee. yep thats my ramblings for today.

Your favourite songs getting old, the same story being told Over and over and over again Too many times in a row, the same lesson I know the same lesson I know I know, I know To holy lights we exposed We start shining in gold Golden, golden, golden

[musicmushi]

Focus, Wandering, and needing to be Heard

I am not currently sure what I’m supposed to accomplish here. I have a list of things that I should be doing. A terrifying focus of should bes but never are. I should script, I should edit, I should focus on art, I should focus on family, pets, clean, focus, focus, focus…

Focus on what I need but what is a need when you live your life for others. For the focus and attention of others. The praise of loved ones or worse…strangers. What is a need without the knowledge that others would praise you for reaching it. Meeting it like an old friend or a new acquaintance in the sullen alleyway of yourself. Meeting an old aching need like agreeing to chat with a friend over coffee. The light jazz sprinkles our words with a special emphasis that says ‘this is here. This is now.’ Meeting aq new need that feels self-taught, self-created, innovated by the devil's idle hands. In the loneliness of quiet when there is no one to meet. No one to update but myself and the moon.

The moon feels like it could be a good listener. The waxing and waning crescents wipe away the old to gladly accept the new, the harvest at its fullest ready to sit and to ponder. To let the silence simmer and the stars shimmer in information shared like a secret betwixt lovers only to have the crescent become eager for knowledge once more. Am I afraid to continue shouting into the silence? Do I fear the moon not care for me anymore? The universe does not care for any one individual so then why must we be plagued by the desire to be heard. Why does the notion that the moon does not listen hurt? Why must I always hinge my creations on the praise of others? Of strangers?

Why must we crave loved ones? Humanity has been built on community and the instinct of pack mentality. Being Shepard'd as one of the herd. One of the herd begging to be heard. It’d feel like a joke if it weren’t so tragic. I’ve seen people put trust in the stars. As if the galaxy could tell anyone anything about themselves and how they can judge others. I beg the moon to listen to my cries of loneliness and yet I know the moon does not care. The stars were not built out of empathy. There is not a fortune to be spelled out amongst the stardust that dances in the night sky. No matter how many stars you manage to count, there will never be an answer. You will not gain access to self-knowledge nor will the galaxies give you any excuse to belittle others.

If the star signs give you personal stories to tell, tell them with your full chest! However, you should never forget empathy. You must always maintain enough empathy to know that you will never truly know anyone enough to judge, berate, or belittle them for being different than you. Never let those giant balls of gas traveling at the speed of light, being the measures for light speed, they are not built with empathy. Never let the stardust excuse your ignorance and hurt you cause others. Never let the twinkling lights in the night explain away your monstrosities. Stars can mean quite a lot to a lot of people, but they do not give permission to ANYONE to abuse.

Anything that gives you self-hope should not also fuel your cruelties.

But who am I to say such things? I’m but a lone stranger writing my thoughts into the nether because I cannot think of anything else to focus on. Who am I to request to be listened to?

I don’t know what I crave from doing this. I wonder if I post it, perhaps someone will read it. Maybe someone can tell me that I did a good job? Perhaps I can be informed that I made some excellent points. That I’m truly well read and poignant and artistic and creative. That I truly am smart and wonderful and friendly and courageous and all the things we always secretly wish we are.

Or maybe I’m searching for empathy? I cast my message in a bottle and toss it out to sea with the vain hopes that this reaches someone else who only has themself and the moon to open to. Maybe I’m reaching for another soul that reads what I say and feels a sort of connection. Someone that would hopefully not feel as alone as when they started. Is that selfless? Or do I still just want validation from strangers. ‘Look at that young man! He reached out to the lonely and the broken! What a good man that is!!’

Is wanting to hear that selfish? Does that defeat the purpose of compassion, selflessness, and empathy?

…Do those answers matter?

I’m left to think about that episode of Sanders Sides where Janus (Deceit) emphasized the importance of self-care. Selfish is bad but self-ish behavior can be lifesaving. You should not wait for a catastrophe to remember that your own self matters just as much as others.

Selflessness and compassion are wonderful virtues but what happens when you focus so much on compassion for strangers or loved ones that you run out of energy for yourself? And when is there “enough” self-care?

When is it ever enough??

When will I feel heard?

When can I focus on others?

When does what I want or need matter?

When will I make a sound?

When, when, when, nothing but when buzzing around in my brain. A static buzz begging for a timeline. A set date where everything works out and finally falls into place. I know wanting such things is foolish but without power, all I have is wants. Foolish, stupid wants.

Let me put my line in the sand. My pencils are sharp enough; even the dull ones will make a mark. Fuck it, let's do this!

[leonemian]

Werewolf: 21st Century Edition

Okay, been working on this for a while, and I figure here's a good a place to post, and a good a time as any to start.

I love Werewolf: The Apocalypse in spite of itself.

A lot of really great writing, worldbuilding, character work, and RPG design went into the system, but while the 20th Anniversary Edition took the most steps forwards, every edition has seen at least one step backwards. Changing Breeds put the nail in the coffin for me, when it comes to official content, and I just sadly put it on my shelf as a work of art I was once entranced by.

Then my fiance says I talk about it so much, I might as well write my thoughts down. I can't be the only person who feels this way about it.

Plus I've worked out some deep-seated emotional issues through the game, and that aint nothing.

TW: violence, by the way.

Here goes nothing, I guess.

RAGE

A lot of people on this website talk about anger, and how emotions stereotyped as 'negative' are not antithetical to love. How you deal with anger, rather than just labeling it as broadly negative and shoving it down within you or 'rising above', is an important lesson to learn.

The world is filled with terrible things, terrible actions, and terrible people. Being filled with rage is a completely reasonable and understandable reaction.

Werewolf: The Apocalypse makes, as its first theme, Rage. It's right in the tagline, "When Will You Rage?", essentially the entire game is asking this question. I love that the game has a question as its tagline, which is as good a time as any to talk about Judaism.

I'm not that close with my Jewish ancestry, on account of how my entire observant family were killed during the Shoah. Even in early 20th century, the American side of my family, lead by my grandfather, were pulling away from the faith. My grandfather was a strict rationalist, a man of science for whom faith held little interest.

That said, we still celebrated the holidays and didn't exactly Christianize, so I've always felt aloof from both worlds. I distinctly remember having to ask my father about our family history with the Holocaust, and, after a quintessentially Jewish moment wherein my father repeatedly asked me if I was certain I wanted to know, I received some photocopied documents. A list of names and numbers, and my family name written down among them.

I've dealt with a lot of rage in my life, as a Jew, as a queer man, as a progressive, as a leftist, it all boils up at times. Beyond that, I also am an angry person on a fundamental level, and that anger feels complicated. I'm soft-spoken normally, but I've been told when I'm angry, I bellow with a voice that legitimately frightens people. I don't mean this as a boast, it *terrifies* me.

To get back to Werewolf, part of what resonated so strongly with me was the idea of everyone having Rage. Some have it stronger, like the Ahroun, some have it weaker, like the Ragabash, but everyone has it. When you play Werewolf, you are playing a fighter, a barbarian, a druid, a sorcerer, a rogue, and a bard all at once.

To isolate the barbarian side of things, you ever wonder what it'd be like to live with a Barbarian, like a classic D&D Barbarian? Because, sure you as a player can turn Rage on and off at-will, and the lack of spellcasting or 'concentration' is a common limiter meant to signify their lack of restraint.

But, what if it wasn't something you could fully control?

I should clarify for those who don't play Werewolf that Rage is fucking AWESOME. Spending Rage points lets you take multiple actions per round, instantly shapeshift between forms, and ignore wound penalties. It's an invaluable resource in combat that means the difference between life and death, and makes a Werewolf pack unstoppable whirlwinds of violence, capable of punching way above their metaphysical weight class in-universe.

The problem is, you don't just get to have it when you want, and ignore it when you don't.

In Werewolf, anything can provoke Rage in you. Sufficiently agitating or infuriating situations can have the Storyteller call for a Rage roll, making this precious resource debilitating at a time when you want to be calm. Roll too many successes and the game mechanics make you Frenzy, attacking anything in sight. Frenzy can be useful in combat, you instantly shift into the war-form, Crinos, and ignore wound penalties for the duration, but outside of combat? Things get *dire*.

You can spend a second in-game resource, Willpower, to resist a Frenzy, but Willpower is a resource that takes much longer to regenerate, a 'good night's rest' usually only restoring 1, for comparison.

Are you a bad person if you flip out and destroy something? I've argued with my storyteller, asking for higher difficulty to the Rage roll (higher numbers required to gain a 'success' which in this instance is NOT something you want), if my character just directed their anger at an inanimate object. It worked in-game, but it also scared my character's brother and sister, and broke the sink in their kitchen.

I have a brother who I love so deeply and dearly, but who terrorized me as a child. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I still fear the sound of floorboards creaking outside of my room, I still shrink from people who touch me from behind, even gently, when I don't expect it. It left a sense of impotent rage at my inability to protect myself, an anger towards my family for not protecting me, and a deep-seated desire for payback at him.

Thing is, he's apologized to me so many times. He loves me, I love him, and he was a kid with severe addiction problems whose brain was on fire 24/7. My parents were making the best of a terrible situation, and simply couldn't be in two places at once.

He's talked about feeling like a monster. Feeling like he couldn't control the waves of emotions, at that and many other moments. He took responsibility, but in the decades since, I've been on that side of the fence myself a few times.

I love him. Justice is in our reconciliation, for me at least. His acknowledgement of my pain, and my sense of him as a full person rather than as a demon who hounded my childhood has given me my brother back.

I've yelled at him a bunch, I've gotten my chance to voice my pain, but I realized at a certain point that it wasn't making me feel better. The problem was, I love him, and thus, even if he was the one who hurt me, it didn't help to see him in pain, whether through my 'punishment' or his own guilt and self-torment.

That said, I did a lot of the smiling mask, burying my emotions down, for a long time, and that wasn't useful either. The rage needed to be let out, and you know what? It was well deserved.

To get back on topic, that is a complicated web of pain, but it arises really easily in Werewolf: The Apocalypse. We often think we're rational, logical beings, in full control of ourselves, but by periodically taking the choice out of our hands via the dice, Werewolf lets us deal with that complicated, painful moment where we are responsible for injury, but may not have been entirely conscious at the time.

Treating it like a disease is also bad, though, because...

The world SUCKS. Things are TERRIBLE. Violence, murder, bigotry, corruption, capitalism, ecological devastation, man's inhumanity to man just keeps rolling onwards, and it makes us ANGRY. That anger is earned, that anger is justified, and we don't always need to sublimate or deny it, because if anger is the only thing getting you up in the morning, then anger, in that instance, is a good and holy thing.

I'll end each of these sections with a bit from my personal favorite Werewolf character of mine, Maeve Ceallach, Homid Fianna Ahroun.

Oh, spoiler warning, I'm going to try and do more posts, more sections on Werewolf concepts, how the game handles them, and how I would change them. Rage was the one I started with because it's both the primary theme of Werewolf, and also the one that needs the least change in my opinion.

Maeve Ceallach

"I don't remember at what point I realized my father was missing his right arm. It must have happened when I was really young, I remember him having his arm, there's pictures of him holding me, but grade school onwards, it was just a fact of our home life. Daddy did things differently, that's just how it was.

My mother didn't speak to me about it. Well, shit, she didn't talk to me about much of anything, until my first change. Then I got a lot of attention, I was the golden child from then on. Tried to live up to her expectations, and that didn't include dredging up painful family memories, so I stayed off it.

By the time I finally got her to talk to me about it, I was in college. I had a lot of... interest, let's call it, from a lot of people. It was fun at first, then it was irritating because I had to keep up my studies and my duties to the Nation. Then it got weird, and finally, scary.

Look, I get it, redhead, big muscles, funky scars, the piercings, the tattoos, the boots, I'm aware of my presentation. Lotta people want me to step on them, and that's fun from time to time, but it gets old. Remind me to tell you the story about the ink at the base of my neck, that'll clue you in.

It's fun... until it isn't. I had this one girlfriend in Junior year, and she just kept... pushing. She wanted the 'lioness', she wanted the 'wolfmother', she wanted, you know, the beast in me. I didn't want that, I get enough of that in my job, but she just kept pushing.

It was a bad night, and I should've just walked away, taken a breath, counted to 100, all the stuff I've learned. I didn't, and she wasn't taking the hint that I needed to be alone... Honestly, maybe I should've been firmer about it? I've always had trouble with that, I like to please.

She grabs me from behind, and I just snapped. I left claw marks in the washing machine, and grabbed her. I wasn't going full Crinos, but I definitely drew blood. The look on her face... I still see it in my nightmares. Not just her, but the reflection in her eyes.

My ma came and picked me up. Guess she had to, Sept leader and all that, clean up the mess, keep everything hush-hush, but she stayed behind with me.

'Never bring the fight in here.' She said. 'We fight, we bleed, we kill, but you don't bring it in the house. You wash up at the gym, you sleep in the car or on the rocks if you've got to. You don't bring the fight in here.'

My dad pulled up, and as I watched him fiddle with his keys to get into my apartment, I asked the question I'd been waiting 24 years to ask.

'Did you ever let the fight come home?'

She looked out the window to him, and he waved at her, smiling.

'Once.' She said. 'Only once.'"