#triggering themes

[chronicbeans]

CURLY RANT TIME!

I really wanted to talk about Curly post-crash. This has kind of expanded into both an analysis of Curly, as well as how other characters treat him, what those character interactions might mean, and the fandom treats him. I think there's a lot of themes around him that many people in this fandom don't see, so I wanted to share my thoughts.

TW: Ableism (both intentional and unintentional), Abuse (Physical, Verbal, Mental), Poor Workplace Environment, Mentions of Fandom's Treatment of Characters, Unstructured and Not Proofread (This took long enough as it is, if I proofread it wouldn't have been published)

First off, can I just mention something that I haven't seen anybody mention so far on Tumblr about Mouthwashing?

Curly can communicate.

He can move his head. He can nod his head or shake his head. When you're in the cryo pod as Curly, you can look around in a much wider field of view than if he was just moving his eye, so he had to be moving his head. They could've asked him yes or no questions and had him nod or shake his head to reply.

However, as far as I'm aware, nobody actually asked him anything on screen. They might've done so off screen, but because it's off screen that's just speculation and I don't count that. They talked at him, talked about him, but never necessarily talked to him or asked him anything. It's like they assumed he cannot communicate, or if they knew he could, assumed he wasn't aware as much as he truly was during everything and that he wouldn't respond. Which happens so often with people in real life, it really hit me in the face once I realized he could communicate, but nobody actually did. Which is something I'm sure a lot of people without disabilities or experience with loved ones who are disabled didn't notice, and I don't blame them for.

Much like that line where the mention how they're running out of painkillers, and they didn't follow it up with "we'll have nothing to relieve his pain." The line was "Once these are out, we'll have nothing to keep him quiet." Which I've seen people playing through that part of the game, and just not react to it. But for me, I saw it and thought "WTF? Why are you focusing on that and not his pain?" And I realized that for a lot of people, they don't have to deal with that mindset. However, a lot of disabled people have to deal with others, even caregivers, seeing them as a complete burden or uncomfortable to be around because they are in pain or expressing discomfort. People who look at them and don't necessarily see them as somebody who is in pain, but somebody who is being too loud and making those around them feel uncomfortable because of their problems.

Which it's natural for people to feel uncomfortable hearing somebody else in pain and to feel bad that that person is suffering. However, for Jimmy at least, it's clear it's gone past the point of feeling bad for Curly and wanting to help, and just wanting Curly to be quiet so he doesn't have to hear it. This may or may not be true for the others onboard, as well. We just don't get to hear much about their inner thoughts.

Anya says she can't bear to give him the painkillers because of the sounds he makes, and I understand that it most likely stems from the traumas and memories of her abuse (I actually like to think it was a purposeful addition to the game to hint at it). That, and Jimmy is most likely trying to stop Anya from doing more for Curly. However, the idea of somebody wanting to help but being too uncomfortable or fearful to is an experience many disabled people have in real life, as well. Some people may see a disabled person in need of assistance, but feel either too uncomfortable to help, or like they'd be dehumanizing them by helping. A thought process that is most likely similar to "Disabled people can still do things on their own, so I think offering help would be taken as me infantalizing/dehumanizing them. So, I won't offer any help in order to not offend them." or "What if I do something wrong and it hurts them? I will not help, because somebody who might know more about what they're doing will step in and help." or maybe even "This treatment sounds uncomfortable for them, so we'll wait a little bit before doing it."

In this way, I think she's representative of a lot of people who are genuinely well-meaning individuals who do believe they are helping disabled people. Or, at the very least, are respecting disabled people. That's not to say she is inherently a bad person, or as terrible as Jimmy in any way. She is leagues better than him, and is well-intentioned in this moment (unlike Jimmy in any second of this game). However, there are a lot of people in real life who do act this way, even people in the healthcare field. As much as someone may train to be a nurse or doctor, they'll never know how somebody who is disabled feels in that very moment or, in Curly's case due to being mute, what they would want (especially because the crew didn't ask him) unless they become disabled later in life.

This brings me to one of my favorite parts about Curly: he was completely fine before the crash. A lot of non-disabled people seem to think that they will never become disabled. After all, they are currently not disabled, and if they aren't disabled yet, why would they become disabled later on? However, that's not the case. Disability is one of the few minorities that anybody, no matter their past or identity, can join at any time. As terrifying as it may sound, one day they might be fine, but the next second they're in an accident, diagnosed with something, or catch a terrible illness that leaves them disabled.

This is essentially what happened to Curly. One day, he was fine. He was the captain, he was free to move around as he pleased and communicate freely with his crewmates. Then, after trying to save the ship, he's been left disabled, locked in his own body, unable to properly communicate the pain he's in. He's been left in a room, getting painkillers shoved down his throat daily, and the only people who visit him don't talk to him or ask what he wants. They probably never even asked if he wanted their care or to be let go. He's the guy who probably went all his life thinking, consciously or subconsciously, that he will never be disabled. He'll never be relying on those around him for care. But now he is, and he didn't do anything to deserve it.

I see it said, not necessarily often, but a lot of the time in a of a roundabout manner, that Curly deserves what happens to him in the game and that he deserved becoming disabled. That's just not true, and if you genuinely think that, I'm sorry but you are intentionally or unintentionally throwing around ableist rhetoric. There's a lot of people who will point to a disabled person and tell them that it's their fault that they are disabled, and use it as an excuse to be ableist towards them. Curly didn't deserve what happened to him. He's not a "perfect victim", but that doesn't immediately mean he deserves the abuse he endures, he deserved becoming disabled, or any of it.

Curly is a victim, and although his abuse wasn't the same as Anya's, it doesn't change the fact they were both victimized by Jimmy. I find it off how, just because Jimmy didn't physically abuse Curly, people don't really recognize just how much Curly was messed up by him. So much so I feel "messed up" is an understatement. He was basically manipulated and verbally abused by Jimmy. Jimmy's a narcissist, and while many people think narcissists are easy to spot or easy to avoid, they can warp your entire view of them and make you blind to their flaws. While many narcissists aren't abusive, Jimmy definitely was and could hide it. And while it was definitely wrong of Curly to turn a blind eye to Anya's abuse and the safety protocols, when you keep in mind that the person who abused Anya was Jimmy, who very well could've built himself up as infallible to Curly, it brings into perspective why Curly didn't do the right thing in that moment. Jimmy had made himself seem incapable of doing something like that to anyone in Curly's eyes for who knows how long, and now that Curly has been faced with someone who has questioned that narrative, Curly didn't know what to do. So, Curly didn't take action quick enough.

It's a human thing. It happens in real life, all the time, that people who have been victimized by narcissistic people will not be able to see the flaws in their abusers. That doesn't make the victim an evil person, or deserving of harm. In Curly's case, it's not karma for him to become disabled and be a victim of Jimmy's now physical abuse. It's moreso a cosmic irony. Curly, after standing back and doing nothing about Jimmy abusing Anya, has now been placed in a horrific situation where he is forced to keep quiet and is now unable to do something even if he wanted to, without deserving it. His own inaction might've brought this situation since he didn't realize that Jimmy was horrible enough to abuse Anya, much less attempt to crash the ship, but that doesn't make him deserve it. It just adds to the cosmic irony and, in my opinion, adds to the horror of his situation.

The people around him don't talk to him, they don't ask him questions, and so the only place he'd have to go is his head. Which is probably filled with thoughts about how he could've prevented it. How he could've prevented his accident, how he could've listened to Anya and done something, anything to punish Jimmy, how he could've prevented Anya's abuse or at least made it harder for Jimmy to get to her. How he should've seen Jimmy for who he truly was, wondering why he trusted Jimmy when Jimmy was verbally abusing him, wondering how he didn't see Jimmy for who he was. However, it's too late, and he can't do any of that now, he didn't see Jimmy for who he was until now, and he can't even communicate these thoughts to people around him.

Curly is on the front of the game and is basically the "mascot" of it, in some ways. And a part of it is most likely trying to follow the mascot horror trend, but I do think it's more than that. In many pieces of horror media, it's common for the villain or monster to either look visibly disabled or just downright be a disabled person. I don't necessarily believe many of the creators of this media are trying to be ableist in any way, and are most likely trying to go for either a creepy appearance within the uncanny valley or an interesting story. However, it is a trend and one that many disabled people have noticed and are disheartened by it.

I think Curly being the face of the game is actually a great reversal of that trend. Many people who don't know anything about this game might see him and go "Oh! That's the monster that will be chasing me down, trying to hurt me in this game!" Then they'll play it and be hit with the fact that it is quite the opposite. You are hurting him. You are the monster in this game, and while everyone on the Tulpar is a victim of you, Curly is the one that is one of, if not the most focus on his abuse alongside Anya. It's to the point you dehumanize him, treat him like an object, want him to be quiet more than anything else, and are deciding for him what is right for his health. And if you didn't know anything about this game heading in besides what Curly looks like, having somehow avoided spoilers, you'd probably have been expecting the opposite.

I genuinely think that Curly's situation in this game is the most fascinating part of this game. Maybe not the worst, since I don't like to compare victims of abuse (that is a shitty thing to do), but I find it the most interesting to think about in terms of the themes of this game. A lot of it revolves around big corporations sliding things under the rug, not caring about workers, abusing their workers... but, the Pony Express has also built a system ripe for ableism. The long hours working, the posters around the Tulpar saying things like "Don't Be Daft!" or the rise and shine one specifically saying to "earn your rest, don't overdo it or fall behind". Which, these posters have more to them that provide extra context (like workplace safety for the don't be daft one or the fact they tell you not to get over 5 hours of rest), but when looked into under the lens of disability they can mean more.

As for how the fandom treats Curly, I don't know what to think. I'm sure many people don't necessarily mean harm or mean to throw around ableist rhetoric, but it does happen a bit. Many people just don't know about many of the discriminatory talking points about disability, which I tend to find isn't talked about as much as other kinds of discrimination. That's why I try to be as open as I can be to the possibility that many of the people saying "Curly deserves it" or unintentionally treating Curly after the crash as less of a full blown character and more of a set piece as simply being person being unaware of the fact that such things are common among ableist groups. That, and for treating him as less of a character post-crash, I do think the game does that, but I think that's the point. You often see him through the eyes of Jimmy, who is dehumanizing him. So, I can understand people just not knowing what to do with Curly when you don't get to see him as the human being he still is after the crash. I think that might be part of why a lot of artwork I see if Curly is him pre-crash, before he was disabled.

Especially since, as far as I am aware, this is one of the first disabled characters from a horror game that has a big fan base and isn't a villain. I feel like fandom, due to it naturally being filled with a wide array of people, is naturally filled with a lot of people who would or wouldn't know how to handle a disabled character. The same goes for any other minority group! Fandom is filled with those who do and do not know how to handle them. I just think that because disability representation and ableism doesn't seem to be talked about as much by the mainstream media, there's just a bit of a higher number of well-meaning people who don't know what does and doesn't come across as harmful.

It definitely doesn't help how the Mouthwashing Fandom is filled with a bunch of unserious content that's meant to be jokes, which isn't inherently a bad thing. Plenty of horror fandoms are like that. It just gets a bit harder to find what is meant to be a joke, what is meant to be serious, and so sometimes I feel the unserious content might be getting taken more seriously than it's meant to be. Again, there's nothing wrong with a silly fan base for a dark game. I love that type of fandom, since it helps make the fan base seem more welcoming and allow people who might've been intimidated by the themes or content of the game feel more safe trying it out. It might just be starting to get to the point where some portions of the fan base might be taking fanon jokes a little too seriously, possibly making it harder to fully and freely analyze this game from all angles, including Curly's.

[opinionatedscreamsintothevoid]

We have had decades upon centuries of proof that fiction doesn't impact reality the way you antis think it does. But here you are, denying the actual historical evidence because it's inconvenient for you. How sad.

Source?

Meanwhile, you can see media affecting reality through the most basic things by themselves: commercials, propaganda, and media representation. Moral lessons in cartoons, even, are smaller ways that media affects people's perceptions and ideals, causing ripple effects into the real-world.

Commercials are designed to make people desire a certain product over other products, for example.

Propaganda manipulates perceptions to garner support for a cause. There's plenty of examples including the infamous 'Donald Duck nazi cartoon'.

Media representation shapes people's views on minority groups. This is why minority representation matters.

There's also the fact that movies/tv shows have resulted in larger consequences: People used to underestimate and dismiss sharks before the Jaws movie, but the film completely shifted their perception. Now sharks are feared and were also hunted to endangerment, to the point the original author regrets making Jaws in the first place. Fifty Shades of Gray caused a sudden spike in hospitalization over bedroom-related injuries and effecting perception on fetishes.

Let me make this clear: I'm not saying you can't have abusive/unhealthy relationships in your media. I'm saying that it shouldn't be glorified/romanticized. I'm also not saying I want people to hold the audience's hand and talk down to them about right or wrong (Since I know that's a big strawman a lot of proshippers use)

I'm saying that if you have p*dophilia, abuse, or i*cest in your story, don't make it out to be a good or a healthy relationship.

The MAP situation exposed support for those real-world terrible individuals. Why feed into that with content geared toward that audience?

[n0irrrr]

REISS MENTAL ASYLUM / 14

【 shingeki no kyojin / mental asylum – alternative universe, modern setting 】 『male!yandere!various x male!prettyboy!reader』 summary: Finally! You have been given an opportunity to work at Reiss Mental Asylum- your job hunting hasn’t been great, so to hear you got an opportunity made you excited. At the beginning everything seems normal- but without noticing, some people began to get obsessed with you. warnings/tags: DARK/HEAVY THEMES. Non-consensual themes; sexual assault, touching, drug use, rape attempt. Home invasion, yanderes, obsessive behavior, murder, blood, explicit content, sexual thoughts. Somnophilia at the end! masterlist

notes: someday i will rewrite this whole cringe thing and feel better about it, LOL. but i hope there's enjoyement in this chapter.

１３

「lazy afternoons」

“Yes, Porco, I’m okay.” [name] chuckled softly. “I will stay over a friend’s house, so there’s no need to worry about me.”

Porco snorted loudly, obviously making fun of his lie. [name] pouted at such reaction. “A friend’s house? Exactly who? You have no friends, you loser."

”H—Hey! I do have friends!!” He felt childish, and he could tell Porco was having fun by proving him he was a lonely loser. “I have many!!”

”Really? Haven’t seen you go out a single day without the same fucking guy.”

"They are just... secretive. AND busy!"

"Busy... of course." Porco's tone changed, but [name] couldn't put more attention thanks to his migraine. "If everything goes well here, we'll have a talk, you and me. It's important."

"That sounds serious... is something going on?"

"Just... take care of yourself in that disgusting place, man. Tell Victor—"

"Vincent!"

"Whatever his fucking name is, to stay with you. With what you told me, I..." Porco couldn't continue. [name] heard some grunts on the other line— was he embarrassed?

[name] grinned. "I care about you too, Porco."

"Shut up. I'm hanging up." [name] could tell he was flustered, but silenced his laugh.

"See you soon!"

"Lock your doors and windows."

"Will do."

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

After the call ended, [Name] let out a grunt. He hid his head within his covers as he remembered Mike’s words about him getting sick. The man was a witch—or maybe a wizard? Either way, he was right. Or at least, his nose told him the future, somehow.

[Name] hadn’t felt dandy when he got to his apartment the night before. He knew getting out of the car by himself wasn’t possible, and Levi, knowing this, helped him as he did before.

He had a bad stomachache and an urge to throw up again; but thought a good night's rest was enough to wake him up and make him feel better. Unfortunately, the moment his alarm interrupted his sleep, he felt the worst way possible.

He also had a fever. He was 100% sure. The cushion was already disgustingly wet from his sweat, along with his pillow, but his sudden weak body didn’t let him get up. Not even when he felt the need to puke. So poor [Name] had to stay put and try to calm himself if he didn’t want to make a disgusting mess in his room. He didn't know how much time had passed since then.

Even if his whole body felt weak and disgusting, [Name] tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. Yet, the moment he got up, he almost fell— if it weren’t for his nightstand, his face would have been kissing the floor, with blood being a plus. It was then that he accepted his defeat and called Margaret to notify her of his absence. She had replied, saying she had been waiting for his call since Mike mentioned his condition yesterday. The poor sick just sighed, thanked her, apologized, and hung up.

He was ready for another bad sleep when the phone on the nightstand rang. His eyes couldn’t identify the caller since his vision was a bit blurry, but answered blindly. The moment the voice in the other line spoke, [Name] miraculously surpassed an embarrassing yelp from coming out.

“[Name], it’s Erwin. Good morning, first of all. I’ve been notified of your absence for today. Is everything alright?”

“O—Oh, uhm, y—yes! Ah—! Sorry, good morning!” It was obvious [Name] wasn’t in the right mind. He couldn’t think clearly, and his head felt like it was burning. His words slurred a bit.  “I just got a bit of a fever— nothing I can’t handle, heheee…” What a fast man Erwin was— did he call him the moment Margaret notified him?

”Is that so? How are you feeling?”

”Everything is good! I’m fffine, really!”

There was a moment of silence on the other line, making [Name] a bit anxious. Was he angry? Upset? Did the think this was a lie?

“I see. Also, don’t worry about today’s schedule. Everything’s covered, alright?”

“O—Ok… and, uhm… sorry about today… I didn’t meaan to get sick…”

[Name] heard a chuckle from the other line. ”Don’t worry about that, [Name]. It’s not your fault— something like that can be rearranged when you feel better, so don’t overthink it.”

After saying goodbye, [Name] let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.

The silence filling his room let his mind wander about the frightening man. He had felt the intense gaze on him everywhere he went. The sick male wanted to believe something else but a feeling of desire filled those blue eyes. The thought only caused him to grip the bedsheets harder, his face feeling warmer and his thoughts messy. He wanted to turn a blind eye to it, but it was too obvious. The man was bold!

But… would it be wrong, though? To accept the date fully? At the moment, it felt like an obligation—a must. [Name] didn’t feel particularly happy about such a thing. Neither when Zeke wanted to use him to do such dirty play to Erwin. Now, it didn’t feel that bad; it was just embarrassing. He laughed light-headedly as he pictured Erwin on a date with him—maybe eating strawberry cake? or just chuckling at whatever they were talking about…

The imaginary moment lulled him slowly, blinking lazily at the ceiling. Maybe a good sleep in another place would make him feel better…

But a knock on his door interrupted him, startling him. The sound only made him grunt— he didn’t want to get up… but he did nevertheless. Of course, as his mind wasn’t in the right state, he took his blanket with drawings of frogs with him. He breathed heavily as he tried not to stumble too much. When he got to the entrance, he opened the door right away while his mind ignored how Porco scolded him about how he had to look into the peephole first before answering the door. Living in this godforsaken apartment was dangerous; serial killers would love to pick a stupid victim here, he said.

He blinked lazily, not really recognizing who he was staring at. Until he abruptly stood straight with a yelp, realizing it was Levi at his door, looking as happy as ever. [Name] couldn’t be more embarrassed by how he looked right now: a blanket with cartoony frogs on it, his oversize T-shirt with his favorite cartoon, and his shorts. His hair was a mess, his face was warm, and his eyes fought to stay closed— it was more to say that his bruises were on display too.

Levi, amused by the display, raised a brow. “It looks like nose man was right.”

Still, [Name] didn't know what else to say. He stood there, dumbfounded.

“Are you making me stay here all day or what? Have some manners.” The ravenette spoke in irritation, but with no malice. After all, it was known by now that his scolding was just for fun. Well... sometimes. This was enough to wake [name] up from his embarrassing episode. He quickly opened the door with incoherent mumbling and stood aside, letting Levi inside.

He felt dizzy; what he said sounded more as if he was barely keeping it together. “I—I didn’t expect you here!” He cringed at his own wording, trying to save himself: “I mean, I don’t mean you can’t come in! It’s just that I— Weeell—”

“I didn’t expect myself here either, but since we all know you don’t know a thing about self-care, here I am." The ravenette spoke sternly, his eyes narrowing into a sharp critical gaze as he observed the apartment.

“Buuuut… There was no neeeed…” The amount of talking made him even dizzier, as he stumbled backwards a little bit. Levi just raised a brow, expecting another lie.

“Stop being stubborn and sit down.” The ravenette placed some plastic bags on the table and emptied it. He took out a canned soup, and [Name] could smell fresh vegetables from the other bag.

He stared dumbfoundedly at the contents, then at Levi, then at the bags, then at the man again. The ravenette stared him back and spoke as if he was talking with an idiot: “You don’t have anything in your fridge.”

[Name] stayed in silence, processing the words from him. Then, he stood straight as he stared in embarrassment, eyebrows furrowing. “How do you know that?!”

“Because that’s you.”

[Name] didn’t know if to take that as an offense, so he avoided the ravenette’s gaze and looked defeated.

Levi didn’t care, it seemed, since he changed the subject. “What have you been doing before I got here?”

“Hmn… nothing…?” [Name] sighed and blinked lazily. “I wanted to take a shower, since I’m all sweaty… but I didn’t have any energy, and I thought I would feeell—”

“Oh, you will,” Levi stated, while crossing his arm as he tried to think, “you will get that shower. You look like a pig.”

“You are meaaaaan…” it wasn’t as if [Name] was in his right mind anyway to think of what he said, “I’m going to fall… I can’t go… and I feel sick,” he tightened the froggy bedsheets around him even more— he just wanted to fall asleep again.

“No.” Levi spoke sternly, harshly taking the cover off of [Name], causing him to gasp. “You will get that shower, so better get up and show me where the bathroom is before I take the sink to shower you.”

The ravenette took [Name] from the back of his shirt, forcing him to stand up. [Name] couldn’t help but comply, secretly glad he didn’t have to walk alone anymore as he guided Levi to the bathroom. It could seem like a careless action or touch by Levi, but he was sure [Name] wouldn’t fall even if he tripped, since the grip on his collar was strong enough.

He just didn’t want to touch sweat.

Levi was a bit grateful the bathroom was in decent shape after seeing such living room. It was small, with some corners and part of the sink and bathtub colored in oxidation thanks to the time. The mirror had some marks on it, along with the flooring having some ruptures. In Levi's mind, he couldn't stop repeating how horrible this place was. Or rather, how disgusting this whole building was.

He ordered [name] to steady himself with the sink while he filled the bathtub with not-too-warm water. Complying with a soft okay—! [name] allowed Levi to work, a little embarrassed when he noticed Levi’s narrowed eyes glaring at how slowly the water came in. If he was bothered or irritated, he didn't voice it, nor did [name].

In whatever silence they were in, Levi broke it off with a blunt order as he returned to his spot beside [name], taking his collar again. "Take your clothes off."

"U—Uh..?! That's sooo straightforward!!" raising his voice, [name] could feel his face getting warmer. "I—I can't do that in front of youu...!"

"Then should I throw you fully clothed in the water? Or should I undress you myself?"

[Name] felt a little bit of dread at the thought of Levi letting go of him. If he did, [name] didn't trust himself to remain standing.

"O-Okay, okay! Just... please turn around," he said his request with as much gentleness as he could have, eyeing Levi with a pleading look. The ravenette frowned as he stared at the sick idiot for a couple of seconds with cryptic eyes before giving in. Sighing in relief, [name] used Levi's shoulders to steady himself as he undressed clumsily. A few times [name] tightened his grasp on Levi's when tripping with his own clothes, only noticing his strength when the ravenette grunted or let out a remark.

"D—Don't turn around yet! Just... step backwards a little bit, pleease..." Carefully, [name] stepped inside the bathtub with a hum as his skin met the tepid water. It was just then, with water just under his chest as he hugged his legs, that he realized how hot he was. He involuntarily sank his whole body into the water, humming at the now-comforting temperature. He quickly retreated to his original stance when he remembered Levi was waiting for him. "...okay, you can turn around..."

"Finally." Levi took a small stool that was behind the sink and placed it beside the bathtub, sitting down. He rolled up his sleeves and took the shampoo, placing some on his hands. "Close your eyes," he commanded before rubbing the shampoo on [name]'s head, massaging the scalp.

It was actually relaxing on [name]'s part. He thought Levi would be rougher, but his hands were gentle. He could hear himself let out a content hum while his shoulders eased and he rested his chin on his knees.

“Bend over a bit.” Levi asked in a gentle tone this time, taking the soap. Just when [Name] obeyed and Levi was ready to lather him up, he noticed a lengthy burn scar on [Name]’s back, more so on the left side. It didn’t look… severe per se— boiled water, perhaps? Levi could tell fire didn’t cause it.

Whoever it was or whatever caused it, Levi continued to bathe [Name] with other thoughts in mind. It seemed the idiot had forgotten, since he didn’t say a thing about his silence.

“Sorry you haave to do aaall of this, Levi…” [Name]’s voice cut his dark thoughts off. “I’m very sorryyy,”

This time, it was Levi who sighed. “I told you yesterday, didn’t I, idiot? If I don’t do it myself, I will be in a bad mood all fucking day. And I have enough with those shitty glasses at work.”

[Name] giggled, “a mooore of bad mood?”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Levi warned him, but he didn’t sound hostile.

[name] talked about everything and anything. He looked content even if Levi gave hums or half answers when being asked something. At some point, [name]'s voice got lower and lower, until he fell silent. The ravenette was unsure if he had fallen asleep, but seeing his shoulders go up and down slowly made him sure.

Just seeing him like this, in this godforsaken place, rotting away... made him feel something he didn't want to say out loud. He just felt irritation.

[name] seemed asleep. Before waking him up, Levi gently caressed the scar on his back and wondered the reason for this act of dominance. Confusion, or perhaps anger, danced in his mind—not exactly for the scar per se.

He retreated his touch and got up, speaking louder to wake [name] up.

"Oi. Wake up. You can't sleep yet." As he took a towel, he signaled him to stand up to dry his body. He noticed how groggily the [hair color]-haired stood up, with eyes closing every two seconds and not even complaining about being seen naked this time. Levi quickly wrapped [name]'s body without much of a glance. His arm went around [name]'s waist to guide him out of the bathroom and to his room, as [name] vaguely told him where it was.

Surprisingly, his room wasn't a mess. Everything seemed in order and clean, to Levi's somehow relief. Levi asked him for clean clothes as he helped [name] sit down on his bed, but [name] was unable to answer because of his sleepy state. The ravenette grunted as he snapped his fingers in front of [name]'s face, making him jump in surprise and barely waking him up.

"Clothes... Ah! Right there, Levi." The ravenette opened the wardrobe and took the first thing he saw, which was another oversized T-shirt with, this time, a picture of a fat cat, and a pair of shorts. He couldn't stop himself from raising his brows in amusement at such choice of designs, almost wanting to make a remark about it. Yet, it wouldn't be as rewarding to see [name]'s groggy state acting stupid like his normal self. He threw the shirt over [name]'s head, the sick completely out of it to even complain about it.

Levi crossed his arms. "Answer—should I dress you or are you capable?"

"Mhm...? Oh, yeah... I caan..." [name] yawned, lazily taking the shirt. Levi had never seen such clumsiness before as he observed how the idiot missed the biggest entrance for his head to one of the arm’s. And then he looked pretty content about being trapped in the smallest hole, as if he had done a splendid job.

“You look stupid.” That was the only statement Levi could spit out before helping him with the t-shirt. His next objective was the shorts, but [Name] seemed to quickly snap out of his dazed and quickly stutter slurred words Levi couldn’t understand, but could decipher by [Name]’s stupid, embarrassed expression. As always, he asked him to turn around.

“You need to eat.” Levi stated as [Name] finished, turning to him once again.

“I want to sleep, Levi.” The sick idiot tried to lay down on the bed, but Levi’s grip on his shirt stopped him.

“Before that, you will eat.”

“But I’m sleepy…” [Name] tried to ‘charm’ Levi by blinking and staring pathetically. The ravenette narrowed his eyes.

It didn’t work. “But I don’t care. Get up.”

All of this felt like Levi was taking care of a child. Or perhaps a cat. A clumsy, useless cat whose life was only to destroy things and be a nuisance.

[Name] complied. Although this time he didn’t try to not be an annoyance, because his body felt heavier and his words didn’t make sense. Levi knew he needed sleep, but he couldn’t let him, still. Or he just didn’t want to. He couldn’t deny that painful, tired face made him feel better.

He instructed [Name] to patiently wait on the couch, since at least he had some mercy on him and didn’t let him wait on the chair while Levi chopped some vegetables for the food.

The sounds of the old TV and the low snores from [Name]’s filled the room, leaving Levi in a barely peaceful moment.

As he put the ingredients into the pot where he had filled it with the soup, he went to sit on the chair while observing [Name], who waited for the food to be ready.

The idiot stayed asleep, with no care or worry about who was with him. Has anyone broken in? Levi wondered.

The lock looked cheap and easy to break, but Levi instantly knew this idiot would open the door before looking, even if he was in his sane mind. A strong lock or a fancier building wouldn’t change that.

If Erwin hadn't taken a liking to him, where would he be? Dead inside a dumpster, maybe. Or perhaps in a job barely making the minimum wage. Or suffering under someone’s orders. Well, it wasn’t as if his situation was any better, in such a filthy place. Erwin had his reasons to hire him, but he didn't share them. What he couldn't hide from Levi was the acts of devotion he had for the assistant; how his blue eyes stared with such... affection? No. Erwin wasn't like that. Something vicoius hide beside that caring-boss facade. 

Speaking of that, who was this guy? Levi felt even more disgusted by the place as he took another look around. This whole building was rotting. Either way, Levi could observe [name]’s attempt to ‘hide’ the mess—pictures. One with him and friends? Perhaps family; a younger [name] with a dog; another picture of him, a guy looking irritated with a black-haired girl... Pretty ordinary pictures.

There were a few small plants, too. A book on the table beside the couch; keys hanging on the wall—were those small paintings? Levi could distinguish between what seemed to be the ocean and a sunset; in another painting, there were frogs in a pod.

[Name] was just like he imagined: a mundane person that he wouldn't usually take an interest in. How could he? This clumsy guy was easy to control, easy to overpower, had naive ideas, was dense... Then why this sudden attention? To someone so insignificant? He could understand Erwin's motives and even that four-eyes son of a bitch, but not his own. Levi found this irritable.

Maybe he liked to imagine how he would tangle his fingers between [name]'s hair, seeing his expression of satisfaction only for him to pull and see that face of being hurt: that pout, teary eyes, that slight frown meaning that he's going to cry... Or just harshly grab that jaw to hear him squeak once he takes his hand away to see the marks he made on that pretty face.

That face…

Levi narrowed his eyes.

That stupid face.

The reminder of the food interrupted his nightmarish thoughts. He went to check and realized it was ready. Without any permission, he took a bowl from the drawers—which didn’t have much—which, particularly, was blue with painted sheep. Levi couldn’t really believe how childish this guy was—hmn? Was that a mug with painted cats…?

Levi served the food. Even when he made lots of noise, the sick idiot didn't even move. The caretaker got in front of him and stared him down—[name] looked exhausted. His expression wasn't a comfortable one*; his body looked tense, and he was sweating.

He looked disgusting.

“Wake up.” Levi grabbed the front of his shirt with no gentleness.

[Name] barely woke up groggily, with his eyes barely opening and closing. From his mouth came words with no meaning, not even pying attention for the man.

Levi made him sit down while he ignored his pleas for him to stop. “Food’s ready. Wake the hell up.”

“Buuuut… I’m asleep…”

“Now you’re not. Get up.” [name] resisted. Levi gritted his teeth, and in his eyes reflected an anger that made [name] shiver. “Get the fuck up, or I’ll punch you until you die.”

“Ok, Okay! I’mm uup—!” Even with slurred words and a weak mind, he knew Levi didn’t make jokes. The thought of Levi acting like a beast made him gulp.

“Huh…” [name] looked at the table, and then at the couch. “Can I eat on the couch…? I don’t want to sit down…”

Levi tightened the grip on his collar. The sounds from the TV weren’t helping his temper much, since an annoying money TV game was on and fueled Levi’s annoyance with him.

The caretaker only pulled him forcibly. “No. You will sit like a civilized, mannered person, not like a pig. You will make a mess if you lay down.”

[name] didn’t dare say anything else. He sat down, like a good boy, and looked at his food. It looked good, actually. The nice aroma reminded him of the hunger in his stomach, as it immediately growled. [name] took the spoon, ready to eat it all.

But, just as expected, [Name] was unable to even feed himself accordingly. His sloppy movements, thanks to his sudden sleepiness, made him unable to hold the spoon properly, messing up the table and dirtying his face. Levi grunted, disgusted once again and more annoyed.

With a harsh move, he took the spoon from [Name]’s shaky hand, surprising him with it. But before Levi could feed him himself, he took a napkin and, with not much gentleness, cleaned [Name]’s face. Whimpers and soft complaints left [Name], but they went to deaf ears. Just as Levi finished, he clicked his tongue at his own exasperation.

“Open your mouth. I will feed you like the child you are.” Levi harshly took [name]'s jaw while he guided the spoon to his mouth. [Name] felt ashamed at first, desperately staring anywhere but Levi's eyes. The ravenette didn't like [name]'s childish behavior, as his grip on his jaw tightened. [name] jumped, opening his mouth with teary eyes. "Why don't you just obey? Always doing what you should not be doing." Levi's never softened his grip, perhaps as a punishment for being disobedient.

This kept going in silence until [name] felt full. A gentle touch on the hand with which Levi gripped his jaw was enough for his caretaker to abruptly stop and glare at him directly. [name]’s body tensed. "I'm—I'm full..." The stare he got was enough to make him shiver. Why were there times when he could speak to Levi normally, but in times like this, Levi unnerved him?

It didn't help when he stared like that. And the way he silently got up, took his bowl, and began doing the dishes didn’t help at all. Was he angry? Did he do something wrong?

Well, whatever. He felt sleepy again. The food had helped him feel comfortable, in some way.

“Dhankss for the food, Levaa…” His eyelids felt heavy.

A grunt was the only answer. [name] slowly began to drift away, dreams taking his mind. His arms rested on the table, letting his face rest on them. The soft silence from the dishwasher lulled him.

This time, Levi didn't say anything else. Instead, he knew he felt a hand caress his hair before shaking his shoulder, but he could be wrong, after all.

“You are asleep already.” Levi’s soft voice sounded far away, even if he was next to him. His strong arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him to the bathroom again.

[name] couldn't open his eyes anymore. His body felt automatic—he just felt Levi’s hands on his mouth, brushing his teeth gently. Did he dream all of this, actually?

He didn’t even remember walking to his bed, but he was already under the covers. Levi’s hand rested on his forehead, and [name] could barely see his usual frown. The sick idiot couldn't help but close his eyes again, but once he opened them again, something cold was resting on his forehead.

Levi said something, but [name] didn't understand.

“That feelss goood…” [name] smiled contently. He chuckled softly. “You are a great nurse, Mr. Levi.”

Levi didn’t like that, since he flicked a finger on [name]’s forehead. [Name] whined, the eyes of betrayal stared at Levi’s face, who glared back. [Name] pouted.

“Not nice…”

“I’m not nice.” Levi changed the cloth to a colder one, by [name]’s relief.

“You are.” He closed his eyes again.

“Not.”

“Just rough sometimes. But you are nice.”

Levi didn’t answer, but it was enough for [name] to look content. A frown formed on Levi’s face while he sat down beside [name]. He took the mug off the nightstand, which [name] didn’t even notice, and waited for the sick idiot to react. “Take a sip.”

“What’s…?”

“Ginger tea. Take. A. Sip.”

[name] chuckled like an idiot while Levi helped him sit down. Levi’s hand on his back and how he helped him take small sips brought him some type of comfort. The feeling of being taken care of was… nice, even if he knew Levi didn’t like the whole idea. Any other type of comfort in his life was Porco; he would be lying if he didn’t feel happy having someone so… caring and trustworthy around him. Knowing he was away made him sad.

“I… don’t waant mooore.”

Levi stopped without much to say, and left the mug in its previous place. He told [name] not to lay down since he could feel like vomiting again. He changed the cloth again before his hand stayed on his forehead to not let the cloth fall down. [name] opened his eyes tiredly to admire Levi. Well, what else could he do?

Levi sure was a handsome man. Or did he confess that to himself because he was not in his right mind? Well, he didn’t admit that out loud…

He felt lightminded; perhaps that’s why he felt bolder to say things.

“You are scary sometimes.” Even though the statement wasn’t a positive thing to say, [name] smiled like an idiot. “Veeeeery scary…”

Levi narrowed his eyes.

“Buut even scary, you look good!”

Levi didn’t react— not openly, at least. “And you look dumb, but that doesn’t give you any favors.”

[Name] chuckled. Levi helped him lay down again.

“I’m sleepy.”

Levi removed the cloth and rested his hand on [name]’s forehead to feel his temperature. [Name] hummed contently as he felt Levi’s cold fingers on his warm skin. Without much thought, he gently moved Levi’s fingers over his closed eyes. He felt more comfort.

“Migraine?” Levi asked.

“Hmn…” [Name] didn’t have more energy to give a detailed answer.

“I left pills on your nightstand.” Levi said, “Take some.”

“No… I’m… tired…” [name]’s eyelids felt heavier, and he couldn’t help closing them.

Levi didn’t like being contradicted, but he kept silent. Perhaps he was tired because of him, or just annoyed. He grunted but didn’t say further. The room fell into silence. Levi stared at [name]’s face, who rested quietly. As he saw nothing else bothering him, he got up and spoke loudly for [name] to hear. [name] opened his eyes tiredly when he got up from the bed.

"It's time for me to go, then." Levi was ready to leave, but he felt something pulling his hand before he began to walk away. He turned his head just to see [name] staring at him with pleading eyes, almost looking like a child scared of the dark.

"Nooo... don't leave me, please," he pleaded. "Stay with me..."

"I can't. Go to sleep."

"But, Levi, I'm scared of being alone... Please, just stay with me this time, pretty pretty please?"

Levi stared, again. With holding hands still, [name] blinked slowly with his long eyelashes, making his plea more "captivating.” Levi wanted to punch his face.

“No.”

“Pretty pleasse…” [name] tightened the grip on his hand.

Levi actually thought about it this time. Perhaps [name] was going to fall asleep, since he looked too tired. “Five minutes.” He answered before sitting down again in the same place, while ignoring how content and happy [name] stupidly looked. Silence filled the room again, but speaking wasn’t necessary for both of them this time.

After such peace, the phone rang. [Name] grunted at the interruption of his sleep, but quickly took the phone before missing the call. The frown that was plastered on his face changed to a soft smile as he answered. Levi narrowed his eyes at such change.

“Hi, Vincent.” [name] replied. “I’m good. Thank you for calling.”

What a good friend.

“It’s fine. Actually, Levi came to—”

Levi snitched the phone out of his hands. Vincent’s voice only fueled his irritation, as his worried questions were heard from the other line.

“What a nice, worried friend you are, Mr. Guard.”

Vincent didn’t answer at first. “Mr. Ackerman, good afternoon.”

Levi could notice Vincent’s change of tone. Well, the feeling was mutual.

“No need for such cute calls for your boyfriend.”

“If I’m worried about him, then I’ll call.”

Levi gritted his teeth. *“*How daring.”

Levi noticed Vincent was going to make a remark, but he shut himself up before spitting it. The ravenette smirked slightly. At least such guard knew who he was talking to. Due to the lack of an answer, Levi kept speaking.

“You asked, he answered. This is all you’ll get.”

Vincent seemed to rile himself up. "He doesn’t—” But Levi hung up before Vincent could finish. He slammed the phone with such force, that made [name] jump at the noise.

Levi stared knives at the phone, not paying attention to [name]’s stare.

“You don’t like Vincent.” [name] looked at him timidly, speaking softly. Levi did look furious at the call— but [name] was sure Vincent wasn’t the type of person to look for problems. What did make Levi so angry?

“Is that a problem for you?”

[name] frowned. It… wasn’t a problem, but he didn’t like seeing his friend— or confidant? being treated so harshly. He knew Levi could see that, but he knew how Levi acted. The people in the asylum could be really… spiteful. Either way, the reflective thoughts only soothed him—he was more than tired. Levi waited, but the question was left unanswered. Instead, it was met with soft snores coming from the idiot.

He had fallen asleep at last.

Levi glared at him—how could he be sleeping so comfortably with him in the room? Leci here, acting like a good guy only fueled his anger. There had to be a reward for this absurdity. He didn’t comprehend his own feelings—their meaning. After all, he hadn’t needed them in a long time, if ever. [name] made him repulsed by such foolish emotions.

How bitter you are.

[Name] didn’t mean to last in that place, but Erwin and four eyes sought any ways to protect him from all evil. Even so, they themselves were worse than the subjects. Levi laughed bitterly internally every time one of them couldn’t hide their desire to possess such a good-for-nothing assistant. He couldn’t understand wholly, but now he saw why. But ‘liking’ him? It wasn’t that. It was something else, but Levi still couldn’t comprehend. He should, soon enough.

Levi glanced at [name], waiting for the moment to move.

And, just when he noticed [Name] fell into a deep slumber, the devil returned.

Levi couldn't stop himself. There was just this urge.

Shifting his body slowly to not interrupt his companion's sleep, facing him. He stared at [name]'s body; how his chest moved according to his breathing, how his lips slightly opened as gentle, barely audible snores came out of his mouth—his long eyelashes, his relaxed, cute expression... only for him to see.

Levi's hand slowly moves under [name]'s shirt, gently caressing his warm stomach. He moved his touch on [name]'s waist this time, grabbing and squeezing part of the flesh not too harshly. The ravenette waited for a response, but just as he was met with silence, he continued his secret exploration in quietness. This time, he rested his head on the crock of [name]'s neck, smelling his scent. His hand explored the flesh a bit more daringly, slowly crawling his way to reach [name]'s chest, the tips of his fingers exploring the flesh cautiously.

This time [name] whimpered softly, his body shivering for one second. The ravenette waited for any other reaction or complaint, but [name] remained in his slumber with a troubled expression adorning his face.

Levi smirked.

What a reward.

[queenimmadolla]

TW║ SA (no SA occurred, false allegations were made)

I understand this is such a heavy hitting subject, it is 100% appropriate to hold those who commit these atrocious acts responsible, but please we also need to know the fuller picture before we go on a witch hunt over a PHOTO that was proven to be a simple and explainable mishap.

for those who aren’t aware, a fan took a photo with Joe and moved her hand. the photographer captured it mid-movement and it appeared to be hovering over an inappropriate spot. due to the amount of fans in line, they would not allow her to retake it and so she posted it on Twitter, as it was all she had with just him and her, save for her group photo.

a fan saw the photo on online, did not allow her to explain, and immediately spread it, stating she was a predator and this information—as it unfortunately does amongst this fandom—spread like wildfire and she was harassed so bad online that Joe’s team provided her with a free photo op to re-take it. I can’t imagine it’ll be as enjoyable of an experience with all of this hate attached to it now.

that is absolutely terrible. please, I know our first response is to protect, but we have to make sure an innocent person isn’t being attacked. she stated an experience she has been waiting SIX MONTHS for was ruined all because of the actions of an individual who took it upon themselves to spread this information and the fandom for blindly following.

i do not feel at all proud of this. these allegations are harmful to innocent people. I saw people on here demanding to know who she is, to have her removed and where she works. she could have lost her job. and if her name had been attached (it was but right around the time it got cleared up) her reputation would have been ruined. a background check would have had these false allegations attached to her.

this is not a joke, and we need to be diligent about these things.

[castaway-achlys]

Castor's Backstory!

Warnings!

If you are uncomfortable with dark topics, this may not be for you. Please also keep in mind that this is quite long, around 2200 words, and only really encompasses Castor's background. Please let me know if I have missed anything regarding triggers.

Triggers include: genetic experimentation and modification, medical horror, marital issues, child abuse, racism (their mother hates fae), corruption, manipulation, deception, lying, a narcissistic parent (their mother), monsters (phantoms), body horror, self harm, bodily mutilation, disrespect for the dead, severe neglect, starvation, death, blood, torture, mental trauma, forced hormone therapy, isolation, gender inequality, overblotting, and brief mentions of dysphoria.

Castor and Pollux were born to parents Astraia and Iason Achlys on the 22nd of May under the star sign of Gemini. Though, upon seeing the results of Astraia's alleged modifications in the pursuit of the twins' health, it was impossible to ignore what she'd done. The beloved twins that Iason had waited so long to see... were now freaks of nature.

One twin was incredibly small despite both Astraia and Iason being rather tall, though still average humans. The other? Not outrageously large, but definitely shocking considering the stature of the other.

Iason was a bit outraged at his wife. The small female twin he'd dubbed as Castor, upon closer inspection, had pointed, fae-like ears. It didn't take a genius to also notice that this baby was... strong, despite being a newborn. When Iason provided his finger for her to try to grab, she had an insane amount of grip strength. He wasn't in any danger of being harmed or having it broken by her just yet, but this was not normal.

On the other hand... Astraia couldn't care any less about her husband's opinion now that he'd found out of her experimentation. Her work had resulted in a success. That was all that mattered.

Almost immediately after the discovery of the twins, Astraia's corruption began to seep through the cracks of the elaborate mask she'd designed. Her marriage had been a consummation of her and her spouse's love at the beginning, but now that she was pregnant, it was simply a hoax; another addition to the compendium of deceit she was maintaining to everyone, even her employers.

Iason was kept in the dark, and was none the wiser as to her plans. To him, she was the perfect woman, intelligent and beautiful, and someone he deeply treasured. He was so happy and excited to see the child-- or children, they'd later discover-- that would be born into a home filled with love.

Everything, even down to her employers, became tools which Astraia used to wield her hate and create her own tool-- no, her own weapon. As a top researcher at STYX, she had access to many things, and with every injection, every manipulation of the DNA of the eggs developing inside her, she took another step down a path from which she could not return. The creation of monsters... both her twins, and Astraia herself.

Upon seeing further developmental stages, it became evident that one twin was progressing much faster than the other. Its milestones were much more akin to a developing fae than the other twin, who was on track to becoming a healthy human baby.

From the time Astraia began noticing the fae-like traits of one of her twins, she felt a mixture of delight and disgust. She vehemently hated fae, regardless of what anyone would tell her or say. They were lesser, monsters, vermin. Even as they integrated into the world, and even if some of them had become her "friends," her co-workers... they were nothing short of scum that had taken the lives of so many humans in the past. Having one of those... those pests, growing inside her? Even if it was mostly human, it was still disgusting.

She defiled many bodies, both of her own twins and of deceased fae who had donated their bodies to science, using both in tandem to corrupt the unborn Castor and Pollux into her own monstrosities. Guilt barely crossed her conscience as she asked her husband what she'd like them to look like. Iason was admittedly unnerved by the question, but she coaxed him into telling her what he hoped the two would look like. After being assured nothing would go wrong, that she was simply ensuring their hair and eyes would be as desired, he finally gave into her wants.

One twin, the girl, would have one of Astraia's two eye colors-- bright pink-- and Iason's own dark blue hair. The other twin, the boy, would have her other eye color, a gentle blue, and opposite hair to his sister's, a bright pink. This way, both twins had her eyes, and one of the twins had his hair, and they would always be connected and recognizable by their opposite features.

Her true work began after that, in which she began injecting them with everything she'd prepared; at least, until she hit a roadblock. The larger and more human-like of the two, who would later be named Pollux, had been rejecting most of her edits. It was frustrating, but at least one of them, who would become Castor, was showing signs of success.

Immediately after Iason had a moment with his twins, they were whisked away to be cleaned up, though this was the last time Iason would see either of his beloved children for quite some time. Under the guise of ensuring their health, and now that he knew a little of what she'd done, she locked the twins away.

Despite screaming and crying, pleading with their tiny voices until their poor throats were raw for their mother's love, neither twin saw heads or tails of her. They were merely tests, and only fed enough to be healthy in these critical stages so soon after their births. Neither twin was given the opportunity to become attached to any worker that tended to their needs either; it was a new one each time. 

Nobody could fight back against Astraia, lest she terminate the experiment-- meaning their lives were at risk if anyone so much as snuck in to feed them, and thus, as they grew, neither twin knew how to speak. They only ever cried to alert someone to their needs. No sounds, no babbling, no words. 

The very first time they spoke, and for a long time after, they only uttered jumbled, incoherent medical terms they'd heard.

By the time that they could walk, the torture and torment to their small bodies had long since commenced. One twin, Castor, outshined the other, Pollux, in terms of results, but Pollux outshined Castor in terms of personality. He'd begun speaking a lot more, and had become very friendly, while Castor remained eerily silent. Her eyes were dark and devoid of life despite her young age, though Pollux made up for it with his immense amount of child-like curiosity and wonder for the world. Despite what happened to him, Pollux maintained a kind heart and sweet demeanor, while Castor only grew cold towards the world, except her brother.

Only Pollux could make a shimmer appear in her cruel, calculating gaze.

Around the age of 5, Castor's world would grow a thousand times darker. Pollux was released from the facility to live with Iason, who put him in school and began immediately atoning for the fact both of them had been without each other for 5 long years. 

Meanwhile... Castor began the next stage of experimentation, where Astraia introduced phantom-- monster-- DNA to what she had already been doing, including hormone therapy. She'd been making Castor into a boy as much as she could without touching the child's body to surgically "fix her." Men were simply stronger, and she didn't intend to stop until Castor was more manly. Castor naively assumed this was normal. She was never told her own gender, much less taught about gender and identity.

Pollux had rubbed off on her, and now that she was older, Castor knew how to speak. She copied Pollux, and used her newfound words the only way she knew how-- to scream. To beg. To cry. To plead for mercy, for the torture to cease as her mother injected her small veins with a black tar-like substance that felt like fire, burning her from the inside out. It swallowed her whole, forcing her to quickly accumulate blot and pushing her body to the limit.

Her untrimmed nails clawed at her pale skin, digging into the flesh until scarlet liquid trailed down her arms as she attempted to stop the pain that seared and slowly spread through her body, all the way to her core. Astraia simply watched her daughter's blood spill with an upturned nose and an air of disgust. This pathetic being, begging her for mercy, was something that came from her? It simply wouldn't do.

With a snap of her mother's fingers, workers forced Castor down and strapped her to the cold, unforgiving surface of the medical table, where she'd yell daily until her voice no longer worked, tear stains were plastered to her thin, underfed cheeks, and the tears themselves no longer had enough supply to continue their flow from her doe-like eyes that began, once again, to lose their light in the absence of her brother.

When the experiment-- at least for that day-- would conclude, Castor would be released from the restraints, only to inflict more damage to herself. It was allowed to continue until enough data had been collected regarding her healing process, and then it would begin the worst cycle of neglect Castor had ever experienced. 

Healing wounds, scabs, and scars all adorned her flesh until Astraia had grown sick of her fighting, and ordered workers to keep her strapped down for days at a time. During this period, Castor was denied food, water, attention, everything, and left to make a mess of herself and live in her own filth until people would unstrap her, drag her weak body up, and force her into a shower that felt like ice. Tubes were shoved down her throat without much regard for her safety, and food forced into her stomach, which would inevitably leave her throwing up from too much being fed too quickly after starvation.

As time passed, the workers would regret everything they did to her. Left on her own, in an imprisonment of white walls and artificial light, Castor grew feral, full of hatred and rage that coursed through her veins until one day, it stopped. On the outside, Castor was overblotting and committing atrocities, spilling the blood of workers, both innocent and guilty, but inside her mind was a comforting numbness that set in.

As Castor watched blood and light drain from the bodies of the people who had done this to her, a wicked smile stretched across her face. It was the worst outbreak the facility would ever see, both Castor and her phantom using magic that they'd not previously seen or known of to destroy entire sectors of the facility and squadrons of innocent fighters desperately trying to quell her anger.

Eventually, she was brought down, though not without consequences. As the price for destruction, Castor was forced in and out of an overblot state time and time again until her body could no longer withstand the sheer power it held, and gave out. It nearly resulted in her death, but the experiments simply continued without care from Astraia.

Over the years, visits from her brother became allowed once again, though it was during one of these visits that Castor, who had hit puberty at a young age, was finally informed of the things her mother had done. Normal girls bled, Castor did not. Normal girls did not have a significant change in their voice to make it lower, Castor did.

Once this had sunk in, it would take a few years before Castor did anything about it. Thanks to Pollux, who had grown so much, Castor did discover that she felt dysphoria and a disconnect from her birth gender, which was lucky for her considering the changes her mother had caused to take place in her body. Castor requested surgery to correct his breasts growing and make his chest flat, and had his matted, unkempt hair shaved off.

In solidarity for his new brother, Pollux, who already had longer hair-- though his was actually cared for-- continued to grow it out. If his brother felt down about his body and looks, Pollux would show Castor that his hair was long and pretty, and he was still a boy despite it.

It was small actions like this by his brother that gave Castor the strength to endure anything thrown at him, and to begin to calm the hatred that resided within him. It still very much raged silently in the very depths of his soul and threatened to seep through the cracks, but Pollux held him together despite his darkness.

Castor became much more docile, though not happy by any means. He simply allowed things to happen and trusted that he could make it through until the next time Pollux would be allowed to visit.

12 years passed, and Castor's progress, at least within the facility, had plateaued. In her benevolence-- which was mostly just to appease Iason, who threatened divorce and degrading her image-- Astraia allowed Castor to be freed.

Castor raced through school, absorbing so much knowledge that he graduated on time with his brother at the age of 17-- a mere 5 years spent on education that took most humans over a decade. During this time, he learned so much about the world and how humans worked... though nothing Iason tried-- medicine, therapy, support-- could heal the damage Astraia had done. Only his love and Pollux's could help Castor, who was stunted beyond belief.

[violetmuses]

Bad Boys - Aftermath

Title: Bad Boys - Aftermath ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe 

Character: Armando Aretas 

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader  

Mains Storyline: Following the events of “Ride or Die,” Armando Aretas returns to Miami, but his future remains unclear. 

Tag List: @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky @planetblaque @sweettea-and-honeybutter @lovedlover @xjjawsomex @readingisahobby @kindofaintrovert @nelo0wesker 🏷

____________

2024 

Facing this exterior placement of an airport terminal, well-known Detective Mike Lowrey drives his classic Porsche and waits in silence, seeking one individual. 

Hiding to escape the federal government pulled strings for quite a while, yet Florida sunlight brightened when previous criminal Armando Aretas returned to Miami. 

After handling many questions or encountering different secrets, even Mike would take responsibility here and stood up as Armando's biological father. 

Wearing one dark outfit regardless of the fierce heatwave, Armando walked forward and held small luggage, heading near Mike's vehicle this afternoon.

“Hey.” Revealing slightly accented English, Armando joined this passenger seat and clipped sunglasses near his shirt. 

“Hey. Let's go.” Mike says. Soon enough, the Porsche rolled out before others realized Armando's figure. 

****

“Welcome back.” Mike's wife Christine greeted Armando for the first time since surviving James McGrath. 

“Thank you.” Aretas nodded. 

“Feel free to settle in, but we'll see you soon.” Offering this kind smile, Christine gestured around the home. 

“Okay. Thanks.” Armando nearly grinned back, caught himself before moving upstairs. 

______

After taking this much-needed shower, very few belongings rounded the pleasant space when Armando finished organizing that guest bedroom. 

Yet, his attention piqued when music thumped out loud. Even voices mingled downstairs. 

Curious, Aretas exited the bedroom and followed various sounds until Mike noticed.

“There's a party.” Mike stepped forward and whispered just in case. 

“What's going on?” Armando questioned, definitely bewildered. 

“It's for you. C'mon.” Walking ahead, Mike left and Armando trailed footsteps to join this moment. 

_____

“Surprise!” The AMMO squad celebrated once Armando reached that living room. 

Captain Rita Secada grinned first, tech genius Dorn continued dating weapons expert Kelly, and Mike's longtime partner Marcus Burnett almost sobbed. 

“Mike, look!” Burnett sniffled, hardly able to see with his glasses. “Armando's right there.”

“Marcus, stop it!” Mike just kept warning his best friend. Even Christine laughed. 

“He's alive.” Marcus continued with theatrics, overjoyed. 

“Theresa, help Marcus calm down first.” Mike scoffed rigjt back. 

“Got it, Mike. Settle down, honey.” Marcus's wife Theresa Burnett walked elsewhere in the house.

This time, Armando laughed while moving near the patio for dinner. 

______

“Still mad?” Armando caught up with Dorn first, but Mike and Marcus chuckled in the background. 

“No.” Dorn straightened his posture at the table this evening. 

“What happened?” Christine offered the question herself. 

“Armando flirted with Kelly.” Dorn told the truth and Christine dropped her silverware, piercing this glance near Aretas. 

Mike and Marcus only laughed even louder than before. 

“Why?” Christine asked. 

“I just thought Kelly was attractive. Sorry.” Armando responded. 

“Don't get in trouble again.” Christine gently warned, resuming the meal like nothing happened. 

*****

The next day, life picked up and there's no other choice. 

To cut down that prison sentence, red tape offered large-scale clearance soon and Aretas would continue helping out the AMMO squad until further notice. 

Heading to the Miami Police Department, Armando somehow crammed one backseat of Mike's Porsche while Marcus Burnett joined as their passenger. 

As Lowrey's vehicle reached this crosswalk and wheels calmed by pedestrians, Aretas noticed your presence for the first time as you wore a sundress this morning. 

When the stoplight turned green, you vanished elsewhere and Armando's mind nearly spun. 

Who are you? Aretas thought. 

_____

Despite entering the precinct for work, Armando couldn't help daydreaming right now and even wondered if someone special waited for you at home. 

“I saw that.” Mike chuckled, teasing his otherwise estranged son. 

“What?” Aretas glanced toward Mike while organizing essentials for the new desk. 

“Uh-uh. Don't play dumb, boy.” Mike still offered jokes. “Almost broke your neck when that girl passed the crosswalk.”

“My bad.” Aretas lifted both hands this time and revealed his truth. 

Damn. Caught red-handed. 

“Got a briefing, let's go.” Checking his watch, Mike hustled in the precinct and Armando trailed, prepared. 

When Captain Rita Secada stood behind the podium even Marcus stopped fooling around and everyone settled for business as usual. 

No games whatsoever. 

______

Once the briefing concluded, members continued to hustle. 

“Going to lunch with Marcus. Wanna ride?” Facing Armando, Mike offered this break

“Fine, but I'm stuck in the backseat.” Armando casted both eyes toward that ceiling. 

“Marcus got old, remember?” Mike lifted his brow, quietly gesturing toward Marcus.

“Good point.” Gathering his belongings, Armando walked right back to Mike's Porsche. 

“I ain't old!” Marcus defended himself while exiting the precinct regardless. 

*****

Noting great weather, Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas chose the outdoor seats of one local restaurant. 

Despite everything, Armando deserved to join the public again. 

 “So what's going on?” Marcus chuckled near Armando. “Mike told me about that girl you saw at the crosswalk.” 

“Nothing.  I'm not weird.” Aretas quickly shook his head. 

“Uh-huh.” Mike lifted his brow. 

“Stop interrogating my son and let him eat. It's bad enough that you sniffled at the house last night.” Mike gritted his teeth near Burnett. 

“Mike, we…” Marcus dropped his words and chuckled again, realizing that you entered the space. 

“Happy birthday!” Standing from this round table, your loved ones raved together. 

You still wore the sundress, grinning near that round table with your family and friends. 

You're so pretty. Armando thinks. 

That smile brightened through every passing moment and your laughter echoed near birds that flew overhead. 

Armando's butterflies deepened as this birthday cake rolled out and the large-scale dessert towered much higher than your stance. 

Even Marcus and Mike laughed out loud with guests about of the height difference. 

“What did you do?” You giggled near one friend at this table. 

“Blow out the candles!” Everyone cheered on this wonderful day.

Making private wishes, you leaned forward and smiled through closed eyes, grateful. 

When you open both eyes, Armando observed from his seat. 

“Hi!” You waved toward him, just thankful to be alive at this moment. 

“Hey.” Armando settled his voice while looking near you. “Gotta go.”

“Oh, all right.” You nodded, but the server welcomed three boxed slices of cake near Lowrey, Burnett and Aretas. 

“You really don't need cake, Marcus! Let's get out here.” Mike laughed while departing this restaurant. 

*****

By nightfall, sirens wailed. 

Blinding red and blue overcasts met yellow crossing tape when Lowrey, Burnett and Aretas  stepped out for this crime scene. 

Intel suggested that goons riddled the streets again and funneled nonsense as dark teams crawled underground. 

“Who's leading this plan? We've got dead bodies rotting all over the mansion.” Mike Lowrey questioned everything. 

“These kills don't look sharp.” Armando grounded his experience. 

“Yeah, rookie shit. ” Mike nodded toward his estranged son. “I'll go check on Marcus.”

Retching nearly echoed in the backyard. 

No dinner tonight. Aretas reminded himself. 

______

Back at the police station, everyone pulled late-night hours to figure out this case, but Armando's desk line started ringing out of nowhere. 

“Hello?” Furrowing his brow, Aretas quickly picked up this call. 

“Of course Miami's on lockdown, but I didn't know who else to call. Who is this?” Your voice shattered once you reached law enforcement. 

Mike and Marcus immediately scrambled near Armando's desk. Even Kelly and Dorn zoned through. 

“Hey.” Aretas eased his tone to avoid scaring you for obvious reasons. “Armando. We saw each other at lunch.” 

“Hi.” Nervous, you sniffled for a moment. “Um, I'm okay, but I might know something important. ”

“What's up? We're listening.” Armando trooped everyone, including Captain Rita Secada. 

“I think someone knew about this case. Go back to the restaurant as soon as possible.” You dropped this new information. 

“Thanks.” Hiding the breakthrough, Armando took your details and would puzzled clues so much more.

“You're welcome.” You pulled emotions together and said goodbye, hanging up to let officers work. 

****

Sooner than later, countless interrogation would begin.

“We've got dead bodies rotting everywhere. What do you know?” Questioning one of the servers, Mike and Armando took charge. 

“I don't know anything! Just let me go.” The employee shivered through tears. 

“I'm really tired of denial.” Mike locked eye contact with this employee. 

“Promise you - I don't know anything about those murders.” The guy even mentioned your lunch with friends and family. “I clocked out after we finished that girl's birthday party.” 

“Did co-workers act weird during your shift?” Mike folded both arms. 

“No.” The employee shook his head. “Big events launch revenue.”

“One last question: Did you see anything unusual while leaving work?” Mike cleared his throat. 

“No, Sir. Everything was normal.” The employee offered his details, but Armando refused.. 

“You know who I am?” Armando pushed himself from this wall. 

“Didn't you kill officers from here?” Looking at Armando, the employee's nerves rattled. 

“Yeah, but my record doesn't matter.” Aretas grounded his warning upfront. “We don't want somebody else to get hurt. Can you help us or not?” 

“I've got nothing. Sorry.” That employee looked drained and left with officers guiding the exit. 

_____

“Now what?” Armando questioned Mike. “Keep the city on lockdown until we find whoever pulled this shit?” 

“No other clues.” Mike took lukewarm coffee. “We'll see how the department keeps moving. Any news from that birthday guest?”

“Damn, no.” Checking his line for your calls, Aretas frowned. 

“Aight, no more running on empty.” Mike slowed down.  Even Marcus had taken the day off. “We'll just go home and regroup tomorrow.” 

“Fair enough.” Aretas grabbed the keys to Mike's Porsche, exhausted. 

“I'm starving.” Mike thought of dinner. 

Yet on their way to the parking lot, something caught Armando's interest. 

“Stop.” Armando warned Mike and pointed to someone who walked near different vehicles. “You see that?” 

“Yeah.” Mike nodded by Aretas without revealing his firearm. “Hey, can we help you?”

“Shit!” This stranger bolted upon realization, yet Armando caught on, prompting Mike to call backup. 

______

“Zway, what the fuck?” This unexpected case flew open when all  three men grouped for questioning. 

Zway Rodriguez, somehow living, emerged out of nowhere. 

“I'll explain everything. Just listen to me.” Zway continued wearing the stupid hat and Mike looked on in silence. 

“Did you kill those people at the mansion?” Armando paced back and forth while questioning Zway. Mike observed in silence. 

“Nah, but I know who did.” Zway kept going at this point.

“Who?” Ready, Mike and Armando listened because Zway could influence the entire plan. 

“Someone at the restaurant.” Zway revealed. “I've been watching the news and y'all missed a big chance.” 

“What? We already scoped the place.” Armando glanced between Zway and Mike. 

“Look harder and trace your steps again.” Zway continued speaking. “The owner's been gone, too.” 

Fuck!

“Any connection to the birthday party we saw?” Even Mike noted Zway in return. 

“I don't think so, man.” No longer wearing his hat, Zway declined. 

“Don't leave the city.” Mike flamed warnings and Zway left the building near security personnel. 

_______

Turning the crime scene upside down once more, even Marcus Burnett resumed this investigation. 

“Zway's alive right now?” Marcus can't believe what's going on. 

“Survived a coma.” Mike explained. All three men sifted through one office located at the restaurant. 

“Damn!” Marcus continued standing while flabbergasted and authorities still lined up possible evidence. 

“I found something.” Armando reached one of the filing cabinets. 

“Just a notebook.” Marcus squinted before sitting down with Mike to observe. 

Yet with each flipped page, something just didn't feel right. 

Day 1 - Happy  birthday, Gorgeous! 

Day 2 - Are you single?

Day 3 - Please come back one day…

“Someone probably stalked her.” Mike worried about you, chilled. “This changes everything.” 

“Do you think he…” Realization slammed down thoughts once Marcus froze. 

“It was the host seating us.” Armando finally grounded the truth. 

“Where is he?” Mike questioned back. 

Seconds later, the restaurant entrance opened and voices protested. 

“Don't shut everything down! Please.” That owner yelled through tears. “We have nothing to do with this case.”

“I'm sorry, but that's not true, Sir.” Mike emerged from the office while Armando held this notebook. “One of your hosts could be directly responsible for several murders.” 

Sitting down with the notebook, the owner took a chance and reviewed handwriting. 

“No…no!” The owner cried, shocked and grieving all at once. 

“Who is responsible?” Mike questioned gently. 

“My, my son…” The owner's confession pulled so many details.

There it is. Mike accepted reality. 

_______

“Justice prevails. Law enforcement officials have arrested one anonymous restaurant employee following the investigation of several murders. Miami's lockdown will end soon. Please stay safe out there…

After working from home for obvious reasons, you cut the news when that doorbell rang tonight. 

Checking that peephole, you realize that Armando is standing outside and wearing tactical gear. 

“Hi, come in.” You rushed and closed the door. “I juat heard the news.” 

“You'll be safe, okay?” Armando offered the truth again. “We're dealing with him, but the public can't walk out yet, so I'm here.” 

“Thank you.” You'd rather trust professionals this time around. “Do you need anything before the city shuts down.”

“No. I'm with the team. We'll be fine.” Aretas pointed backwards. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” You kept standing across from Armando. 

“Yeah?” Armando settled his voice. 

“Is Detective Lowrey really your father?” Your question lingered for a while now. 

“Yeah, but I still don't trust anyone.” Despite everything,  Armando couldn't even lie to you, this stranger. “People will burn you alive just to keep themselves warm.” 

“Damn.” You've grounded this time with more and more awareness. 

“Sorry. They're calling.” Armando's cell phone buzzed in one pocket and signaled goodbye.

“Okay. Thanks for coming by.” You led Aretas back to the front door and realized that Detective Mike Lowrey stood with Marcus Burnett. 

“See you.” Armando clipped. Officials left in squad cars as sirens wailed past your ears. 

*****

Sometime later, you enter that police station for the very first time, but nothing is wrong. 

“Hey, Armando. Your girl is here!” Marcus Burnett called out, teasing Aretas while others laughed. 

“What?” You questioned Burnett. 

“I'll tell you later.” Marcus chuckled. 

Leaving his spot in that precinct, Armando recognized you for the first time since turning away from your house. 

“Hey. Is everything okay?” Concerned, Aretas glanced toward you. 

“Yeah, thanks for everything.” Smiling, you traded this business card and walked out on your day off. “Take care.” 

“Ooh!” Curious voices started picking up from all directions. 

When Armando clipped that card over, even Mike and Marcus cheered. 

Your private phone number waited directly on the back. 

[4seasonsofart]

Holy Devil With Your Darkened Wings

Vampire Thorfinn x Priest Canute Trigger Warning: Self harm, depressed Canute, religious trauma, suggestive themes Part 1: Sin For Me

Among the most high of holy beings, there are the most dark of all devils. Mankind was never made to stand in the middle of these warring entities. The most corrupted of all mankind are not the ones that hide in the darkness, but the ones that dance in the light. We all have our secrets, and some are best left untold. Even the most holy may be seduced into sin.

A preacher of God lies in the confession box. A cracked bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of gin in the other. The mark of the vampire lies on his neck, decaying the skin around it, his holiness fading with it. He prays fervently, like a dehydrated man lost in the desert and abandoned. The words fall off his lips like stones, ones that he used to throw at the glass houses of the unsaved.

"Never allow the lust of mankind to corrupt me, oh Lord." He whispers breathlessly as he takes a despondent swig of his gin. "I will not be seduced by this devil of the night."

He swallows the rest of the whiskey and finishes his gin. He stills for a moment, and without a second thought, he violently slams his head against the confession box. He shrieks out like a hunted animal looking for its kin. He arches his back as he drives his glassware against the hardwood floors of the holy ground. The toxic shards of glass dig into his palms like the thorns of a crown.

His crimson blood slowly trickles over his palms as he lets out a choked sob. He doesn't pull out the shards of hopeless divinity as he tightens his well-worn fingers into the punishment for his own sins. He hides in the confession box. He begs the heavenly being for salvation from the beasts mark on his pale neck.

"I am not worth your salvation; my holiness has been tainted. You gave me your body and blood, and now I am depraved of it. I deserve the punishment! I deserve the death!" He sobs out with his tortured soul as he wraps his lacerated hands around his aching throat.

He pushes his hands into his once-pristine neck as that same human sin flows out of him. He's being cleansed of that night's devil's mark. He just needs to be cleansed. Like the water washing sins away, his blood will wash the mark. He tears his clerical collar away from his cleansed neck as his hands buzz with the holiness that he has regained. He no longer sees any harm but the good that comes from his actions. The booze tastes like the body of Christ, the new blood within him... Christ's blood.

He knows that he must cut the mark out of him! Stop the infection of the satanic offenses on his holy body. First, he must rid himself of the rest of his faults. He must become clean. He must become new.

He unbuttons his cassock only to his chest as he shakily pulls out a pocket knife. "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." He mutters under his breath as he makes oddly angelic lacerations of the cross all along his body.

The tainted sin of mankind mixes in with the grounds of holiness. Soon enough, nothing is evil anymore; there is only God, the real God, and the angels above. He finishes his obsessive life of prayers as he digs his split fingernails into the devil's mark.

"How far mankind has fallen." A silken voice of lustful pleasures reaches his ears and echoes across his soul. His trousers tighten instinctively as that foreign feeling sinks down into his core like a soul into hell.

His eyes snap open as he is met with the devils entrancing hazel irises. He adorns a different seductive cloth tonight. A white-laced baby doll dress that barely hangs past his upper thighs. He wears a pair of pink and white stripped knee highs that meet the ends of his— sinful outfit. Canute gulps down hard as all thoughts of his cleansing begin to drift to the dark recesses of his mind.

"So surprised to see me again, my priestess?" Thorfinn purrs out like a content cat that has just reconnected with its owner.

He places himself on Canute's lap without a care in the world as he positions his thighs right outside of Canute's. He hums in an almost heavenly manner as he tenderly begins picking the shards of glass out of Canute. His fangs enlarge again as he takes in the aroma of Canute's intoxicating blood.

He watches as Canute's eyes widen, and he is able to feel his heart rate speed up. He shuts his mouth as he continues to pluck every single piece of glass with as much care as a craftsman has while making their magnum opus. They sit together in such a compromising position. Thorfinn's frigid breath causes goosebumps along his bloodied figure.

"Allow me to be your savior for once, dear." He speaks in such a sweetened tone that no mortal is able to resist.

Canutes irises grow clouded with an unknown haze as his body becomes encased in that same obsidian ooze. Thorfinn presses one of his lifeless fingers against Canute's lips as he gently shushes him. He smirks triumphantly, although Canute's vision is much to hazy to see it. 'Right along with my plan. My mark always works wonders.'

"Who do you belong to?" Thorfinn inquires in such a soft tone as he squeezes his thighs against Canute.

"Y-You..." He trails off as his head hits the back of the confession box.

"Are you mine?"

"I am yours." He finalizes, like the last nail on the cross.

Canute's eyes roll into the back of his head with those cursed words as his body goes limp. Thorfinn's virtuous smile morphs into a gnarled simper. He plants his fangs gently into his priestesses tender skin as his mouth wraps around his neck like a boa constrictor. His tongue connects with the nectar that he has so been deprived of as he moans out gutturally.

"I want to bleed you dry. Wanna make you mine, my sweet love." He murmurs in a frenzied manner as his pupils dilate into crimson gems.

"Thorfinn, hurry the hell up; boss wants us back in the den soon." Torgrim shouts obnoxiously as he lazily bangs on the side of the confession box.

The foreign gooey substance disappears from Canute's limp body as it is left in pristine condition. Thorfinn hisses out in an irritated manner as his delicious meal time has been rudely interrupted. "Tell baldy he can fucking wait! He's got all eternity!"

He begrudgingly detaches his fangs from his lover's neck as he gently peppers a set of kisses over the mark he gave him. He growls out as Torgrim interrupts him again by banging on the box so harshly that the wood splinters.

"Keep your fucking fangs in your mouth, asshole!"

The musky scent of rotted corpses attacks the nostrils of the fallen priest. His soul is at rest in this moment, although his body is shocked awake. The pure amount of malice and demonic energy emanating from everything here makes him wish he had his rosary. He frantically looks around as he realizes his cloth has been removed from him, his injuries healed, his bare body exposed to the elements.

He's isolated, for now. No light streams into the darkness of the barren cave. Only the stench of satanic rituals and the occasional drop of water are felt. He stands up and keeps his legs closed as he stumbles in the darkness. All of the hairs along his figure rise to their peak as his entire body is lined with warnings of the danger ahead. Stalactite and stalagmites make jagged teeth within the confines of this tomb filled with demise.

Impossibly finite rocks dig into his soft flesh mercilessly. The occasional trail of groundwater mixed with limestone and the fluids from the desecrated deceased. Tortured echoes of mortal misery and ecstasy reverberate through his eardrums. He shudders as a frozen draft enters the tunnel he is walking through.

A beastly hiss enters the shell of Canute's ear, one that is much airier than that of Thorfinn. It is fleeting and tortured, as its intensity dies out like a flame on a ceremonial candle. The temperature immediately rises once again as Canutes fight or flight is quelled for a few moments.

"Oi, Priest Canute? What are you doing in the vampire caves?" A familiar voice chirps in.

Canute is startled for a moment and turns around quickly while rushing to make himself presentable. He keeps an iron grip on his legs to keep the cove of his privates covered from this newcomer. He crosses his arms over his chest to hide his nipples and some of the hair that trails shamefully along his stomach downward. He is a man of God; he shouldn't be seen in such a compromising position. Lewd. Horrid. Sinful.

His eyes lock on Garm's crazed gaze as a specially crafted spear still lies in the throat of a now-lifeless vampire. It isn't even twitching or hissing as its puncture wound rapidly rots away. The vampire is soon nothing but dust in the winds of time. His spear, Canute notices, is engraved with many protective and religious sigils that are only made in the highest covenant of witches. Canutes brows furrow as his head lifts away in pure repulsion. 'A vampire hunter? Another disgrace towards the church.'

Garm is still adorned in his alter boy apparel, although it is stained with the devil's sinful blood. A strange glinting is caught within the darkness of the earthen tunnels. A pair of vampire teeth lie proudly off of his ears, like earrings, like he is proud of how easily he kills these beasts. His normally couth and pulled-back blonde hair is now spiked up with gel, as if his hair were now a death trap of its own. The young man quirks a curious eyebrow towards the priest as he uncaps a bottle of the church's communion wine and chugs it down. A few droplets escape his lips and make their way onto his clothes.

He speaks in the most dignified tone that he is able to muster. "Garm, alter boy, is that the communion wine?"

"You mean the Jesus juice?" He mutters off passively as he wipes his mouth. He has emptied the communion wine bottle by now, so he lazily tosses it into the side of the cave wall.

"The utter disrespect you have just shown to Jesus's sacrifice."

"Eh?" Garm chuckles out happily. "So fucking around with a vampire isn't disgraceful? I'm not the one who is currently naked and nearing a vampire den." He points towards the bare figure of Canute as he chuckles.

"How did you—"

He's cut off during his stunned answer as Garm promptly replies. "The church hired me along with Thorkell to protect you. Naturally, I joined that shitty church of yours. Never really understood that Jesus fellow." He trails off as he snaps his fingers and remembers his words. "Vampires leave a sort of residue, I saw some around the church. Next thing I know, I hear you moaning and I see a Vamp banging on the side of the confession box."

Canute's heart rate picks up as his hazy memories fail to fill in the gaps. He does remember Thorfinn. His seducing tongue, his traitorous fangs, his erotic actions. How he— "Wait, did you harm Thorfinn!?" He blurts out suddenly as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. One of his hands moves from his chest towards the mark, it's soothing now in a way. An emptiness fills him, yet somehow, he knows that Thorfinn isn't dead.

"Woah, woah there, didn't know you guys had fucked that much." He snickers unhingedly. "Unfortunately, I did not. He got away from me and took you with him!" His face morphs into a pout as he shakes his head. Canute sighs in relief as one of his fingers gingerly caresses Thorfinns mark.

"Coward! I want a worthy vampire opponent and he keeps slipping from my hands!" Garm angrily stabs his spear into the side of the rock as he grins. "Least I got that one scratching on the side of the box. Didn't put up much of a fight. Froze like a stupidly pathetic deer." He repeatedly stabs the rock to get out his frustrations.

Canute's feet scream for relief, his mind for his church, and his heart for his love. He loves God, always. He gulps as he shakes any straying thoughts from his mind. "Garm... I..." Canute trails off as he everything has gone blank.

His eyes shoot back up towards Canute as a wide grin plasters itself onto his face. "Oh the tunnels, yeah? Let's you get you outta here. Thorkell is just a few turns down." He states in a cheeky manner as he springs up. He taps the shoulder of Canute as he happily trots along, deeper into the network of vampire tunnels.

Canutes stumbles as his feet are bloody messes. Garm doesn't look back nor slow down his walk. He is oddly excited to be in this situation, despite having lost his kill. "You always talk a lot during your sermons. Not so much now, eh?" He mutters as he looks back at his partners struggle. He rolls his eyes and grabs his hand while pulling him along hurriedly.

"How do you know of this place? You called them 'vampire caves'." Canute inquires hesitantly as he attempts to keep himself decently covered... to no avail.

"Oh, I know my way around here. I go through the vamp tunnels as they're like shortcuts. They connect to all the dens filled with those promising opponents." He giggles maniacally as he bumps shoulders with Canute. "Technically, mortals aren't allowed in this place. Bullshit. Good practice. Always an opponent willing to try (and fail) to cut down the undefeated Garm." He proclaims proudly.

"Oh." Is the only word that is able to escape his chapped lips.

"Oh?" Garm snorts as he comes upon an impatient Thorkell. They have come upon a lightened exit. The lively sound of animals and the content forest in a stark change of pace from the depressing and alluring charm of the tunnels.

The giant looks at both Garm and Canute with a pleased smile as he adjusts the weight of his twin axes over his shoulders. "Look at how spry you two are! We'll surely catch Thorfinn now!"

"You're right, Thorkell! I get to battle him first!" Garm declares as he shoots a threatening glare towards Thorkell. Canute places his weary foot back and this isn't unnoticed by Garm. He tightens his firm grip on the unclothed arm of Canute.

"No fair! I've been hunting him longer!" Thorkell whines softly as he stomps around.

"I found our bait, so I get the first stab at him."

In less than a blink of an eye, Thorkell has one of his axes near Garm's throat. Garm expertly blocks the swing with his well-crafted spear. "Very well. Only one stab. Then, he's fair game for either of us to kill."

Canute interrupts their bickering with a statement. His voice is shaken and once again his dread creeps within him like a vine ensnaring his soul. 'What is wrong? Why must my moods be ever changing?' "Bait, you said? It is highly illegal to use a servant of God as bait for one of those beasts!"

Garm and Thorkell both make eye contact with each other as they have a hearty laugh. "Who says the church has to know?" They both ask in an unnerving unison. They look like cackling hyenas within his shaded blue irises.

"You despicable Vampire Hunters! You have no honor!" Canute spits out in an exasperated manner as his face tints slightly red.

Thorkell does the scariest thing a mortal can do. He goes quiet. He has an outburst of white, hot rage as he grabs Canute and presses him against the side of the cave. The slimey stone digs into his soft flesh so harshly that a quiet whimper escapes his lips. "You, have no honor. You are a priest! A coward! You fight no battle, you only sit upon your mighty hill and past arrogant glances towards us all!"

"You know what they say Thorkell?" Garm snickers mischievously. "The bigger the dick, the better the warrior."

Thorkell casts his glance down towards his private areas and then nudges Canutes legs towards the side forcefully. "I suppose both Garm and I are definitely better warriors than you."

They laugh in a monstrous manner, Canute can't tell which monsters he'd rather be with. He hangs his head in utter shame as his cheeks burn brighter than any flame that has put those unrighteous to death. His back slowly leaks his crimson tears of unholiness as his feet are torn by the roads of the fallen before him. The last drop falls into the depths of the darkness and rolls off as the two men shout about something that Canute is unable to focus on. They drag him to the edge of the tunnels carelessly; he's handled like a common slave. He's forced to stand as he takes a step out into the sun. He hisses in the most excruciating pain that he has ever experienced.

"Little priestess, did you really think that you could escape me?" Thorfinn mutters out in a sweetened manner. He stands nonchalantly near the edge of the darkness. His finger swipes across the edge of the cave as he collects a bit of his lovers blood. He sticks it in his mouth as a pleased moan escapes his plump lips.

"Thorfinn!" The hunters shout excitedly in unison.

Thorfinn gnarls out demonically as he sees his injured lovers state. "You bastards! To hell with the both of you!" He clenches his fists so tightly that his lifeless tissue tinges a brusied violet.

"We'll take you there with us." Garm challenges as his spear ends up precariously sitting on the edge of his lovers adam's apple.

Before Thorfinn has time to react a hand tugs on his shoulder. "No time Thorfinn, I'll let Bjorn deal with those life breathing morons." A strangers honeyed and irritated voice barks.

"Fuck off old man; they're mine."

"No." The word in spoken in all finality. No room for argument.

Canute is thrown towards the ground in surprise as a force of nature falls over the entrance of the cave. A force so strong and mighty that even Canutes soul trembles heavily. It is as if even the stench of death and sex that wafts from the caves is overpowered. It is a beast.

"Good man Bjorn, rip the hunters apart. We must be going." The estranged voice states passively. As if the wild creatures aura was more of a comfort than a fear.

The pleased shouts of the beastly hunters are drowned out as that foreign ooze seeps into Canute's very core. A moment later, it has once again disappeared, and he falls into Thorfinn's arms. He is barely able to see through the haze of his eyes, as the temperature here is more frigid than that of the church. A figure walks up to Thorfinn in this. He can't see; all he knows is that he is in the caves still.

"Thorfinn~" A cheery yet masculine voice beams. "A little birdy told me that you saw the hunters today. Was Garm there?" He inquires eagerly, barely able to contain himself.

"Elisei." Thorfinn sneers flatly. "You've got angel blood all over you."

"Don't avoid the question love~" Elisei purrs out as Canute is detached from Thorfinn momentarily.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"No, I'd much rather do it with you and Garm." Elisei giggles in a crazed manner as his hand gently pats the top of Canutes head. "Prey?"

"I am not going to be part of one of your weird vampire sex orgys." Canute is barely able to see Thorfinn spit on Elisei and Elisei thank him. "Don't you dare lay a hand on him. He isn't prey... he's it."

"Wait, so you saw Garm today and you got to taste the blood of the one?" Elisei squeals as he drags his finger across Canutes neck. "Bastard, you marked him." He states in a desperately pouty tone almost the same as Garm. "No worry, I'll just give him one of my own."

Canute is barely able to make out the shape of this Elisei character. He is about the same height as Garm and has long, shaggy brunette hair. Canute weakly covers his neck as he backs himself into one of the earthen walls. He looks in the direction of where Thorfinn stands with pleading eyes.

"I am going to—"

"You two bitch like dogs in heat." A gruff and gritty voice mutters as a burly arm tugs on Canute.

"Bjorn, you're wings look like they could use some trimming~ I've got a special potion that I could—" Elisei is cut off as well.

"Quiet vampire witch. Lest I rip your fangs from your mouth and sacrifice you to Askeladd." The beast Canute met earlier now one hundred percent confirmed as Bjorn.

"He's mine." Thorfinn mumbles as Bjorn shushes him with one of his wings.

"He is a mortal. He was harmed when you so carelessly left him in one of our tunnels that was explored by humans. He needs a bath and a warm bed. These are direct orders. End of discussion you brat."

Bjorn raises Canute bridal style and carries him within his powerful arms.

"Thank you..." Canute mutters weakly.

Bjorn doesn't reply as he moves to carry out the order given to him. Although, an invisible smile etches across his ancient features.

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

The devil and I

Tw’s: blood, gore, near SA

Request: hey, I was wondering whether you could do something along the lines of where joes group hold rick at gunpoint but instead of it being michonne and Carl it’s the reader, Carl and rick? And they try to hurt y/n. If you’re comfortable with that? Thank you!

I’m so sorry this took me forever- i binged twd all over again so I’ve got inspiration to write this scene… legit my love for Rick is only growing🥲❤️ note: I am not following the scene so words will not be the same and actions will not be the same. Edit: this has been sat in my drafts for ages I forgot to post it so apologies. (Daryl not included in this version sorry!)

A/N: literally if Rick protected me like this I would legit fold. 😭

Safety was always something no one took for granted yet whenever you took safety for granted even for a split second everything went terribly wrong… exactly like this moment. You were now stood with your hands up in surrender Rick stood beside you and Carl in the car asleep. You listened to the cruel man as he began talking, blaming Rick— going on a tangent about how Rick was going to pay with his life. It made you feel sick to your stomach your fearful eyes locking onto Rick who was clearly watching you out of his peripheral one of his hands inches away from grabbing his pistol his other hand raised. “You think you’re all that?” His voice was sarcastic “well let me tell you somethin’ you killed our friend! That means we’ve gotta kill you! Start with the girl…” his cold eyes moved to look at you, eyes scanning up and down your body tongue lightly licking against his lower lip as he smirked “then we’ll kill you.” His eyes snapped back to Rick who looked infuriated to say the least. “It was my fault okay? Don’t- don’t get my people involved” he spat out. “Don’t? Oh you should’ve thought about that before killing my men!” He yelled making you flinch, immediately making his attention return to you as he suddenly turned his gun on you ricks eyes narrowing as he clenched his jaw,

“Hey! Keep the gun on me. On me.” Rick demanded, Joe looking at him with annoyance “you think you have fuckin’ control in this situation? Well buddy you’re wrong. You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!” Jesus Christ this guy needed to take a chill pill. Your body trembled as the gun remained pointed at you, Rick too being held at gun point by another man as the other men in the group began searching around— the chubby one finding Carl, beginning to sniff him out in a crude horrible way your eyes wide as you watched the man do the unthinkable… this was sick! “Leave him be!” Rick yelled referring to Carl, Joe only laughing. He could’ve stopped his men from touching Carl.. pinning him down but he didn’t. He seemed to find it amusing. You watched with wide eyes until eventually you couldn’t cope anymore, making a drastic decision as you attempted to sprint over to Carl only for one of the skinner men to kick out his foot making you trip as you landed face first in the mud. “Well that was a dumb decision wasn’t it sweetheart!” You breathed heavily hearing Rick struggle slightly “don’t do anything to them— fuck! Don’t touch them! They didn’t do anything. It was all me! Leave them be!” Rick raised his voice desperately but despite that Joe didn’t listen, only mocking Rick further.

That’s when you felt a hand grab you, swiftly turning you over as you watched the tall man come down to straddle your waist— grubby hand grabbing your jaw as he got a good look at you. “Joe she’s a pretty one. Might keep her!” The man laughed out evilly Rick’s cold pale blue eyes glaring straight into the back of the man’s head his hands clenched by his side as he tried to breathe normally the fury on his face clearer than anything. He was about to snap… about to do something wrong… but these men couldn’t just do this. His eyes slid to the fat man who was now loosening his belt, ricks heart dropping into his stomach. “Don’t touch me!” You yelled averting ricks gaze back to you, watching you fight the man off attempting to push him away only for him to grab your wrists and pin them above your head “don’t touch her! Get your filthy hands off of her” he demanded, Joe taking that as a advantage more than anything knowing Rick seeing his people being hurt would cause him more pain… but unbeknownst to Joe it would also spur him on to doing something else in retaliation. “Hey— turn her around so he can see her face.” Joe laughed out, the man holding you down quickly obeying a sick grin on his lips as he forced you onto the floor— Rick now stood where you could see him but because you were laying on the ground he was upside down. Tears clung to your eyelashes as you stared at him in fear the terror clear. “You can take what you want! Just stop it. Stop this!” Rick demanded but it fell upon deaf ears. The men didn’t care. Rick watched as the man holding you began cutting your T-shirt off until you were exposed- leaving you in your bra and jeans.

“Well would you look at that… ya convinced yet?” He spoke to Joe as if asking whether they could keep you now. Joe only smirked and you watched in horror as the man began cutting your bra off, ricks eyes fleeing to look at Carl again the man pressing a knife to the young boys skin ricks head aching, his vision spinning, before he acted in complete panic and need to save you both as he abruptly head butted Joe making a bullet fly into the air— hitting one of joe’s men straight in the head knocking him unconscious immediately. The smell of gunpowder swirled in the air and you quickly kicked the man in the balls, watching him attempt to ease the pain only for him to pin you down again as you struggled barely registering what Rick had done, the familiar metallic scent of blood making you look over at him momentarily as your body continued to desperately fight…. Rick had bitten a huge chunk of flesh out of joe’s neck… clearly tearing an artery… your breath hitched as Rick stormed towards the two of you his beard coated in blood before he roughly stood the man up, shoving his gun onto his chin “give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger.” Rick growled out, but didn’t even wait as he pulled the trigger— it was violent… vicious… merciless.. you watched with wide eyes as Rick didn’t even tend to you, yet, instead moving toward the fat man who was now up hands raised attempting to desperately save his own life. You weakly scurried towards Carl, grabbing him and holding him close as the boy gripped onto you, a shadow of terror in his eyes… he was traumatised… you knew what Rick was going to do. He was going to end this man’s life in the most horrific way for touching his son and so you quickly but gently helped Carl get into the car, your head turning just in time to watch a sharp hunting knife be shoved into the man’s stomach— the jagged teeth immediately sinking into his flesh as Rick began dragging the knife upwards… literally gutting the man like a fish.

You watched with wide eyes your breath hitching, Rick keeping the man held up as he stared into his eyes watching how the life drained from him little by little and as the man slumped Rick began violently stabbing the man over and over and over again. Your eyes filled with terror. You hadn’t seen Rick like this before… never… he was so composed but obviously and rightfully so he acted like this correctly. You would too if it was your child. But you were also traumatised from also nearly being sexually assaulted. Your brain wasn’t entirely working and so you shakily got into the car and began comforting Carl your face twisted with pain and other emotions that couldn’t quite be deciphered… you were unsure with what you felt… you were confused… desperate for comfort but you knew Carl needed it more than you at the moment. You silently pulled a blanket over him in an attempt to sooth him, your fingers beginning to run through his hair gently.

—

You weren’t sure how long had passed but it was now daylight, the sun breaking through the clouds. You were sat near the car a numb expression on your face, your head bowed your body covered in blood and dirt hands trembling slightly. You were still shirtless, bra hanging on by only one strap but that was the least of your worries. You barely noticed as the familiar boots came into view, the man soon sitting beside you your eyes catching onto his hands covered in dried blood his wedding ring coated in the crimson liquid your eyes remaining locked on it momentarily before you looked away again. “Are you okay?” Those words left his lips so compassionately yet you could hear the tiredness in his voice. He didn’t need someone else to worry about.

“Fine.” You murmured back tiredly ricks eyes boring into you as he studied you carefully, he was an ex sheriff for gods sake he wasn’t dumb… he could sniff a lie out immediately. But really was anyone okay nowadays? “Hey” he reached his hand out grabbing onto your hand gently his grip tender and you slowly looked at him feeling gross. You could still feel the man’s hands on your body… groping you. “He touched me rick.” You whimpered feeling pathetic but you trusted him. Deeply. You knew you could talk to him without being judged. “I can feel his hands everywhere.” Tears stung your eyes as finally a few trailed down your cheeks leaving pale marks down your mud covered cheeks, Rick didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He however didn’t think much on it, instead giving your hand a squeeze. “I won’t let that happen ever again. Im sorry y/n.” He spoke tenderly and you glanced at him tired eyes locking with his and you only shook your head. “Not your fault.” You assured calmly yet emotionally, Rick didn’t speak for a moment or two before he eventually stood up. You believed he was going to leave but much to your surprise you watched as he removed his jacket, extending a hand out towards you as you slowly and timidly grabbed his hand. He pulled you up carefully before helping you put the jacket on, and once it was over you he leaned down slightly grabbing the ends of the jacket as he zipped it up for you until the zip dangled just below your neck before he stood back up. “We’ll get moving as soon as Carl is awake. Don’t want to risk running into anymore folk like that…” he spoke and you nodded silently, expecting him to walk off which he did at first before pausing turning to look at you “again I’m sorry.” He paused momentarily before walking back to you and much to your gratefulness and surprise he pulled you in for an abrupt hug, holding you for a solid 50 seconds before he pulled away hands resting on your shoulders “we’ll be alright.” He reassured searching your eyes that held doubt and worry and you gulped heavily before nodding. He then pulled away, “Rick” you murmured shakily making him pause as he looked back at you “pinky promise?” You held your pinky out for him watching as he glanced down at your pinky outstretched for his and he smiled slightly before nodding, stepping back towards you his pinky locking with yours “I pinky promise that we’ll be alright y/n.” He spoke whilst looking into your eyes. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you or carl ever again.” The look in his eyes saying that much… he was going to protect you and his family until his last dying breath.

[opinionatedscreamsintothevoid]

Every time a proshipper/comshipper is trying to deny the fact of media effecting reality they end up saying something like: 'Oh, but people aren't just gonna suddenly be okay with pedophilia!' and every time I see them try to use that as a shield for their behavior/content, I immediately remember that there WAS a point in the very recent past when twitter had the 'map situation'.

The 'map situation' being when people were supporting pedophilia, supporting that pedophilia be 'accepted' and 'added to LGBT', and supporting 'pro-contact maps' being in contact with children while spreading misinformation about consent, how capable children are of giving it, and brain development. They even made a 'pride flag' and other propaganda (Media which is literally made to affect how you think.) to push that idea.

I'm honestly surprised more people aren't remembering that.

That shit got an entire cartoon cancelled and caused great harm to the lgbtq community, how did people just forget that happened?

[imfullofworms]

Dove Eater

TW: Abuse, Religion

Call a priest,

dear reader.

I would do it, but

my mouth's full

of doves and choking

to death

on a feather is not

how I'm going out;

so call one,

would you?

This thing inside me

wants to ask God

why Nuns were

whipping Mothers

and Canons were

stripping boys

and until it gets an answer,

on doves

I'll continue

to gnaw.

So call one, please,

my belly's full of bones;

one for every child

and Mother who

were led along as lambs—

not a clue that the

Temple was an abbatoir

owned by butchers in

fancy clothes complete

with haloes made of blood.

nana worm hated Nuns; this worm hates them all.

I try to shy away from such things in my poetry, but the sheer scale of the abuse that took place here in Ireland boils my blood.

[jasper-lily]

Things worse than death

Summary: Izuku takes Kacchan up on his advice and takes a swan dive off the roof.

Warnings: References to suicide, if that’s triggering I wouldn’t read :)

Izuku stood above his own grave with a strange sense of apathy. It wasn’t to say he didn’t care that he was dead…it was the opposite in all honesty. It was his own fault. He took Katsuki’s advice. All Might left him there. What else was he supposed to do when presented the opportunity? That was how he ended up wandering the graveyard he had been buried in.

He felt a strong sense of guilt now, but the relief of responsibilities and ageing was incomparable to anything in his life. But so was the lack of drive. He had nothing to fight for anymore. Most of all, he missed his mother.

He saw her having to confirm that the body someone had reported was his own, seeing his bloody and mangled form contorted into all sorts of angles that they weren’t supposed to be. He only wished to hold her one last time, to apologise for everything he had put her through but she could finally live in peace, without being harrassed by anyone everytime they walked out of the house together. The stares and whispers would stop now that she didn’t have a child with red targets masking as shoes tugging on her hand. Most of all she could be friends with the Bakugou's again. He wasn’t putting pressure on her to stay away for his own sake. He had seen Mitsuki visit her at the scene and afterwards, comforting his mothers gut wrenching sobs in a way that he now couldn’t.

He was startled out of his reminiscing by the crunch of gravel beneath someone's feet, causing him to glance up. It was Kacchan.

In his hand was a bouquet, an array of lotus flowers, lavender and roses. It was a strange amalgamation and was expecting his ex best friend to walk straight past his grave and continue further into the cemetery. But he didn’t. He sat directly in front of Izuku and started speaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to your funeral…my mom was there I know, I just…I couldn’t bring myself to see what happened. What I caused. I know it’s too late now to fix anything, but for what it’s worth…I miss you Izuku.”

It felt as though he was talking to the void. Izuku wanted to hold him and forgive him and scream at him all at the same time.

“I fucked up so badly. I was so insecure I pushed it all onto you. You were the only one of those extras who actually cared. I should never have abandoned you. And now this is all my fault. I’m so sorry Izuku…”

As much as the ghost wanted tears to gather in his eyes, they wouldn’t. The familiar burning sensation behind his eyes came but the blurring of his eyes as a film of tears should cover them never did. He missed crying. He and his mother were connected through the famous ‘Midoriya tears’ as Auntie Mitsuki used to joke. But now that was dead and gone, along with him.

“Izuku. It feels strange to call you that now. I called you Deku for so long. God I’m so sorry Izu, if I had realised sooner…if I had done things differently maybe you’d still be here. You could get all the support items you could want…we could’ve been a team, pro heroes together…like we always dreamed when we were kids.”

It was gut wrenching to see the once arrogant and strong willed person that Katsuki once was pour his heart out. His emotions were normally concealed under indifference and agitation, it was unnerving to see him so vulnerable, so open. Izuku did the only thing he knew how to do. He attempted to wrap his arms around him in a cold embrace.

“It’s okay Kacchan. It was my own fault. Don’t blame yourself…I would never have been able to become a hero, go on with your life. Forget about the useless Deku who held you back. Be the best hero you can be for the both of us.”

Bakugou seemed to shiver slightly at the touch and glance up, straight through him, closing his eyes and letting the tears fall was strange. The old Katsuki would never allow such weakness to show.

“It’s getting cold so I should probably head off soon, my therapist said that sitting at your grave and talking to you might help me. It feels like you’re actually here, Zuku. I know it’s probably my mind playing tricks on me, but please, if you’re there…I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve to be a hero for what I did to you. I wish there was a way to take it all back, to make everything right again. You were always my Zuku, you were the only person in that shitty middle school who would’ve given a shit about me if my quirk wasn’t powerful, and I became one of them. I- I should’ve seen what was happening. I’m so sorry Izu.”

“Kacchan…I AM here, I need you to see me and hear me! I forgive you! It was my choice, a stupid one and I regret it! I want to be back with you! We could be heroes together. I’m so sorry I was the one who left…”

The burning sensation was mack and if he squeezed his eyes shut tightly enough he could imagine rivers of tears that would never come falling. He tearlessly sobbed for what could have been and what he lost and now what was found, even if it was too late.

“It feels like your arms are around me right now, god, I wish they actually were, you were always cold though, you and your scrawny ass was always cold…I remember when we were kids I’d always give you my scarf when it was cold. I miss you so much Zuku.”

“I am hugging you! I’m here! I miss you too! I’m so sorry.”

“I should get going…More training for UA…I’ve practically lived at the gym since…Ya know. I love you Izuku, I’ll be back to visit soon I promise.”

Izuku smiled softly, patting the spiky hair and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you Kacchan. I’ll be here waiting for you.” The smile turned bitter as he watched his best friend walk away from him, the only thing he left was the flowers that sat atop his grave. “Be a good hero for me.”

Thanks for reading! <3

[supersleepysnail]

The tightness of the cloth

On my breasts

Constricts my breaths

And I force the blood

From between my legs

Through my veins

And out my wrists

Because I cannot stand

To be a Woman

Any longer.

[someuncreativity]

[CW: self-harm, mental health issues]

As much as I don’t like to talk about it in my art or my content, there’s something that’s been bothering me since before I started my online activity.

As a kid, I always wanted to be the most perfect thing ever, whatever I thought that was. I would try to be everyone’s friend, try to outdo everyone when I knew that I was less than them, try to build myself as the most skilled person alive, you get the idea. I was so focused on being this idea of perfection that I eventually started morphing my own body specifically to seem more perfect.

Even now, I find it hard to break those habits I built when I was young: I take my elbows off a restaurant table after realizing they’re there despite the fact that the rest of the people sitting there have them on it, I uncomfortably straighten my back when I realize I’m slumping over at my desk, I didn’t get proper prescription glasses until last year because I didn’t want to seem like a bother for having visionary issues.

Recently, I started noticing these factors of myself with my rapidly deteriorating mental state, alongside the fact that I’ve picked at my skin since I was a kid. Whenever I noticed an imperfection on my arm like a pimple or a bump, I’d squeeze at it until the white stuff was gone or the skin above the area ripped off. Whenever I got a hangnail, I’d pick at it until the nails picking at it were sore and my other finger slightly peeled out. Whenever my lips were feeling dry, I’d peel off the skin until I started bleeding.

No joke, while writing this, I started instinctually biting the inside of my mouth despite the fact that nothing was bothering me there.

These habits have carried with me my whole life. My family keeps telling me not to continue doing them- especially the pimple-squeezing-, and I know that they’re not good for my already damaged skin, but I’ve instinctually kept doing them. I actually still have a few scars left over from doing these things.

I’m not claiming to be a survivor of some horrific experience or something like that; I know that there’s a million other people who have it a million times worse than me. That said, I’ve gone through a fair bit of stuff myself and I’m still trying to process it all. Now probably isn’t the time to talk about my whole life story, but suffice it to say I have reasons to feel the way I do.

Hopefully, I can get over all of this soon and break these habits. Maybe actually live my life for once. I don’t know. Point being, I want to get better, and personally, after realizing the problem, I think breaking these bad habits is the first step into becoming a newer, healthier me.

I’m sorry for being so negative recently. It’s just that I’ve been realizing a lot about myself in the past few months, as you can tell.

I don’t really know how to end this post, but thank you for staying and reading until the end. It means a lot.

[hellokitty0810]

The Stranger

By Thalia Torres-Arroyo (me)

One night I was home alone, in my bed scrolling on my phone looking through Facebook. Suddenly, that is when I received a notification from Ring saying that there is someone at the front door. I opened my app to see who it was standing at my door. When I open the app and seen who was at the door, I freaked out. This stranger’s bloodshot eyeballs were staring into the camera. I could tell he was wearing a black hoodie and was wearing camouflage cargo pants and wearing a pair of white Nikes. He was saying,” I just rang your doorbell. I have a couple of questions. Are you sure?” He kept knocking and ringing the door over and over again, repeating himself. I just kept watching to see if he was going to leave.

For twenty minutes, he was still at the front door but this time he was angry pacing back and forth. He tried opening up the front door but couldn’t. So, this made him even more angrier. So he went back to the camera again and look into it and started yelling. He was yelling, “I know you are in there and watching me. Why don’t you come down here and open up for me sweetheart?” I was already panicking and I started to have this cold sweat going down my face and spine.

So I answered the intercom and asked,” What do you want from me?” He replies,” I just want to come inside ask a couple of questions” with a creepy smile. I told him that I was going to call the cops. He looked back into the camera and said ,” Go ahead and do it.” He would not leave from my front door. I had no choice but to call the cops. While waiting for the cops to arrive, the stranger broke my door window and unlocked it. I freaked out and called the cops again for them to hurry because he was already inside my house.

It took him awhile to get in, so it gave me enough time to hide in a spot where I could use an object to defend myself. I easily tracked the stranger through the cameras that I had installed inside my home. As soon as he got closer to the room I was in, I already had a golf club ready in hand. He opens the door and I jump on him beating him down with the club till he was unconscious.

Once he was unconscious, I tied him up with some rope till the cops came. A few minutes later, I heard the sirens and the officers running to my front door. I yelled out and let them know I was upstairs in my bedroom. The officers came running up the stairs towards the room. They came in and seen what had happened. They ended up taking the man into custody.

The next day, on the news I seen his mugshot on the tv. They said the man had escaped from the psychiatric hospital. This man’s name is Peter Anderson. He was missing for three days and he killed five different women. Peter was suffering from multiple mental illnesses, like bi polar, depression, multiple personalities, and schizophrenia. Now Anderson is arrested and charged with five murders, stalking, breaking and entry, and for being under the influence of Cocaine. He is going to spend the rest of his life without parole in prison. A few years later, I still have nightmares of Peter. About every week, I see my therapist to help me with my PTSD.

The last time I have heard about Peter, he is locked away in confinement. He isn’t escaping anytime soon. He is on death row now. Hopefully, I can overcome my fears about this incident. I also moved back home with my parents. They are helping me go through my trauma. Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t have that golf club in the closet. My mind would wander off thinking about how he would’ve killed me. If he would’ve done a fast killing or a slow one. How long would he have torture me?, I thought to myself. I thank God everyday since then.

[cozycompositions]

New one shot is up! Very short and very angst. Plz heed the tags as trigger warnings! This one isn’t much, more of a vent than anything, but trying to get back into posting.