#where you become completely desperate and lose all hope in humanity

[oldtvandcomics]

Peter Cashorali's work is so interesting, because yes, it's fairy tales, but it's EDUCATIONAL fairy tales written with the explicit goal of passing down knowledge within the gay (men) community. Also, these books are almost thirty years old, so it is lived experience by what it now pretty much a previous generation. Fascinating read. Also makes you wonder what today's queer wisdom would look like.

[kujoestars]

The Mechanism of Kafka's Transformation and How It Affects Him

(Crossposting my analysis/theory from Reddit. Also, warning: this post contains both anime and manga spoilers so beware if you are anime-only)

So, something that drove me nuts about the manga's version of the X-ray scene was the fact that there was literally no difference from a normal human chest x-ray. The anime THANK GOODNESS fixed that:

We finally know exactly how Kafka's core looks while he's in human form. It appears to be primarily occupying where the chambers would be with a good amount of myocardium (the heart muscles) suspending it while also continuing to function as a heart.

Notably for me, there's actually a translucent hemicircle up top there where it's supposed to connect to the aorta. In fact, you can see the core is translucent on its left (our right) side while more opaque to its right (our left).

Let me highlight it for reference I hope y'all appreciate the fact I had to do it with a mouse on MSPaint because Reddit won't save images to drafts and I can't drop images from tablet like on desktop:

It appears that Kafka's heart was fully converted and the tissue there is just a facsimile since it appears to be forming a pouch for the core to nestle in.

The anime's expansion of the scene the Mysterious Larva/Young Yoju fused with Kafka ended up perfectly tying in to this. Something I noticed was that Kafka was not actually transforming for most of it. Initially he was clutching at his throat where it entered:

Then just before the transformation started (when his eyes started glowing), he was clawing desperately at his chest:

For reference to anyone who's never studied anatomy, the mid-esophagus is actually resting against the heart, which is why the best form of imaging for the heart is a transesophageal echocardiogram (i.e. stick an ultrasound down the esophagus), which works like in this diagram:

In other words, the Larva's target was his heart and it was burrowing into it from that point. Which is consistent with where Kafka was clawing at in the shot I posted before and why after the change completed, his hand was resting just above that area:

Basically, the theory I have been saving specifically for after this episode is: Everything about Kafka's body is tied to the core.

Yes, that was obvious since we saw him regenerate his entire body from just the core, but what I'm saying here is that that the heart was the only thing the Larva was trying to fuse with. The rest of the body followed instantaneously once the heart became a core. Kaiju cores appear to be storing a lot of energy, so it would fit in with why even the initial change could happen so rapidly. It was a large burst of energy that had Kafka's cells all convert and restructure, and we even see steam coming both off and out of him here in the anime.

All future changes seem to be purely a matter of him controlling every cell in his body like individual muscles or even like how cuttlefish and octopi are able to change their appearance in an instant from muscle contractions and chromatophores.

In other words, the evidence has stacked to full OVERKILL that Kafka is truly a kaiju that can shapeshift into a human rather than the reverse like he and everyone else prefers to think.

Which leads me to my big pet theory right now: the reason Kafka is losing his ability to revert to human form is because he's becoming malnourished. I won't stack the image evidence since I've already done enough and the focus is on the core and Kafka's real biological nature now (I'll save that for a future post, lol), but it only stands to reason that if Kafka is physiologically a kaiju regardless of form, that means he has the metabolic needs of a kaiju.

He was only fine before because he had a lot of extra body fat as reserves and didn't use his kaiju form much. But after entering the Defense Force, he's been in multiple situations where he had to push himself while transformed and consume much more energy. If you pay attention to his body type, you'll notice he's been having quite a bit of weight loss.

Sure, he's been training a lot too and eating better, but following the fight with Isao, he's becoming abnormally thin. Maybe not enough for people to immediately think he needs a sandwich, but as of the latest chapters, I've noticed he's actually pretty lanky now even in kaiju form when previously Kaiju No. 8 was built like a bear.

You could argue it's just art evolution EXCEPT literally no one else had such a drastic change in body type or AT ALL. I'm pretty convinced this is an intentional transition from Matsumoto.

Whatever Kafka is eating as a human, it's not enough to sustain him long term and so his body is going into power save mode. And since his default is kaiju (why else would he constantly slip up his first few months if it wasn't actually his default form?), his body is losing its ability to shapeshift because it doesn't have the energy to. Malnourishment tends to manifest in a similarly piecemeal fashion irl, so I'm not surprised its first sign is just one spot on his hand.

Such a deceptively simple reason for the kaijufication is precisely why I'm very certain that is the cause. Kafka has a lot of issues with loving and taking care of himself. And this series is all about subverting tropes in favor of common sense. It's not some "inner demon" trying to take over (the Larva actually only did that once because Kafka was both in danger and refusing to fight back what it perceived as another daikaiju); Kafka just isn't taking care of himself as usual!

And there you have it, folks. Finally, a clear breakdown of what exactly the Larva did, how the transformations work, and why the kaijufication may not be as scary as everyone thinks. Or rather....not in the way they think. Someone please feed that kaiju properly!

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

New Job, Who Dis?!

(Grim x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings:(DLC ending spoilers. Suggestive themes)

Grim is now living rent free in my brain.

After completing the DLC ending of A Date with Death, I have decided it is my favorite ending and conjured up a little dialog. This oneshot hints to the endings outcome, so spoiler warning ⚠️. This was written quickly, so pardon any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

“Hold up, start from the top. What's my job description again?”

“Your job will be to give life back to those who aren't supposed to die. Sometimes, innocent people are caught up in things where losing their life was NOT part of the original plan. Because your soul harbors the essence of life itself, with you at my side, you'll be able to attempt to save those people who are at the presepist of dying too early.”

“Attempt?” You eye him quizzically from your place at your desk. Casper is sat at the foot of your bed, long legs outstretched, hands in his lap. He nods and continues.

“Basically, when a mortal is on the verge of death, their soul has become tainted with what we call a ‘blight’ or ‘blight of death’. Similar to ‘the taint’ for reapers, though much much harder to bounce back from when the soul or a mortals very existence is overtaken or ‘infected’ if you will. Some people can bounce back on their own, while others succumb and meet their unfortunate end. I say attempt because sometimes a mortal is beyond cleansing. The blight is too far gone, and no amount of divine intervention will save their existence....so naturally, when we, no, you receive cases like this, time is of the essence.

“I see...wow, that's heavy. No pressure or anything. Sheesh.”

“Yes. The job will be difficult at times. Y/n, there will be times when a person will be beyond help. You'll want to save them desperately. Times where no matter how much effort is placed into saving them, it may not work, and you will be angry. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed an innocent person parish entirely too early at the hands of a twisted version of fate. Those moments are out of my hands, and I have to ferry them away regardless. But that's where you'll come in.” 

“Sooo I'm basically an angel??”

“No, they're grotesque creatures. They instill fear in humans and sugar coat their acts with pretty words. You'll actually give hope. Plus, you're much prettier than they are. Who really needs that many eyes and wings, honestly??? But anyways…”

You fall silent in deep thought.

“Y/n? Why are you screwing up your face like that?”

“Can I really do this, Casper? What if I mess up??”

“My sweetest, little nightmare. I'll be there with you every step of the way.” Casper smiles reassuringly.

“Thank God. OH! Do I get a cool ass scythe of my own, too?” You perk up almost immediately, wistfully looking at his impressive weapon that is currently leaning against your wall nearest the door.

“I...I'll never get used to the way you can flip subjects so easily. But yes, I guess. Once you're settled, we will get you fitted with a 'cool ass scythe'. Or at least a decent weapon you'll use to channel your soul energy. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? That doesn't sound shady at all, but fuck yea!”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you're okay with this decision. I really couldn't think of a better way for this to work out for both of us but-”

“But you have a big, sexy brain that was able to figure it out, now you're stuck with me foreeevvver.” You beam, triumphantly.

“I suppose I am, and quite frankly, I would have it no other way.” With a smile on his face, Casper stands, reaches for your hands, and pulls you to your feet.

“Awww, little reaper. Since when did you get so mushy? It makes me want to violate yo- I mean...I could really go for some food right about now. Yea, food. That's what I meant."

“...You really are something else. We will grab something on the way to my place.”

“Bet. Finally making good on us moving in together?”

“Obviously. I can't escape you.” With a chuckle, he brushes his nose against yours playfully.

“It was inevitable, Casper” You respond. The grin that spreads across your face makes his "supposedly" cold heart warm.

“Seems so…and by the way…”

Casper slips his arm around your waist gently, leaning into your ear.

“I'll take you up on that offer of 'violating' me later, my little nightmare.”

“You just want to be stepped on.”

“S-stepped on? What..uh...I”

“The blush on your cheeks says you do. Can't take it back now. Your fate is sealed. I hope you're ready.” you wink.

“Haaa....fuck.”

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Tommy is sick of being sat upon by some nut job he barely knows. It’s been days trapped under a Philza who doesn’t really register human words and mostly just coos whenever Tommy tries to cuss him out. Techno says it’s ‘cause Philza thinks he’s been hurt and needs to be protected, which like, yeah, fine sure, but not by Philza. Tommy already has a guardian. His abuser has to be insanely worried about him, especially after Philza assaulted him for no reason. But every time Tommy tries to escape he’s just dragged back and everything gets worse.

At least that part is familiar.

He’s forced to stay in that nest for days, and Tommy has never handled being cooped up well. Some part of him likes the weight of a parent roosting over him and the feeling of gentle hands combing through his wings and hair, but the overwhelming majority of his instincts just wants his abuser back. Techno is of absolutely no help, mostly since Philza keeps trying to murder him. But he sits in the corner and is open to chat, or read a book aloud to him to stave off some of the boredom. Best advice Techno has is that Philza will be normal again if he thinks his chick is safe and happy.

Hell no. Tommy is not feeding this guy’s delusions, especially when Techno reveals Tommy’s own feathers had been woven next to Philza’s in the nest long before Tommy’s abduction. A-grade creep behavior there. Besides, his abuser will come save him soon. Tommy is so acutely aware that he’ll never save himself.

But then it’s been days and he’s losing hope and just wants to go home, so desperately Tommy tries to figure out what Philza will register as a happy chick. Usually chirps just burst out of him, not something he controls at all, but with some struggle he forces out the little trill he made every time his abuser came home.

Something twists in Tommy’s chest as Philza echoes the joyful chirps at him. It feels horribly right, complete whereas with his abuser the greeting was never returned. That wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t an avian. Neither of them had known what was needed to soothe his instincts. 

But it works. Philza blinks rapidly, pupils returning to normal. His gaze locks on Tommy, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.” Philza wraps him in a warm hug. Juuust great. He was hoping to leave after Philza got over it. All he wants is to get back to his abuser, but when he says as much the embrace becomes a vice. Tommy naturally rejects Philza’s awful claims, growing more and more desperate as his abuser is slandered. First the absurd claim he somehow stopped Tommy from flying, like it wasn’t because Tommy was too weak and small to. And then it’s after him for not providing proper shelter at their nest, even though his abuser was trying to teach him to be responsible when he had Tommy make his shack. Then the lack of healing supplies, then the fact he was dying alone when Philza found him.

“No, it’s my fault I tried to fly when he was gone! He was there for me every time I was injured! Shut up, I can too prove it. Hard not to be there when he caused it half the time!”

For some unknowable reason, Philza doesn’t take that well. Neither does Techno, even when Tommy tries to explain they’re misinterpreting what he said, really it was Tommy’s fault, mistakes and the natural punishment for his actions. When he argues it wasn’t bad, Techno brings up the injuries a bit too old to heal when he used the potions. They try to get in his head, voicing all the thoughts in Tommy’s head before he plummeted and proved his abuser right.

Thing is, Tommy has flown before. It’s been awhile, but he has, when he was younger, knew the wondrous taste of its joy. With L’Manburg he’d been careful to fly below the walls so he didn’t get shot down. And it wasn’t possible in Pogtopia. And then after…it just seemed pointless. And now he can’t at all, and the only reason he can find is because he doesn’t deserve that joy.

Unless it was taken from him. Just like everything else, Tommy finally admits. Wearing an avian’s feathers is meant to be a promise to support them as surely as their own wings, and yet his abuser clipped his. 

It’s hard, realizing he was only ever so weak because the man he trusted was sabotaging him the whole time. Twisting his instincts, forcing him to become a useless hatchling. Manipulating him so he could never fly to safety.

Tommy begins to sob.

Next>

[middlingmay]

This fic is for @johncleven who requested a fic based in Stalag Luft III with music, dancing, and a confession from Bucky about Gale's name.

If anyone's interested, the song that appears in this fic is 'I'm Making Believe' by Ella Fitzgerald and The Ink Spots. I have not stopped listening to it.

Note: if you're here looking for technical accuracy on the mechanics and operation of illicit crystal radios, my friend you are in the wrong place. Suspend your disbelief and just go with it.

Enjoy under the cut!

The boys thought him the steady calm to Bucky’s frenetic energy. Probably even more so now, stuck in this camp. Whilst Buck had doubled down on his reserve and control, not letting a thing slip by the veneer, Bucky was losing himself to the need to be doing something but being rendered completely and utterly unable to do so. Like a dog on a chain.

But. What the boys didn’t notice, had never noticed, was that Bucky wasn’t the only one that needed to be doing. Buck had always felt the same, it just looked different. It could be reading a textbook or a manual, learning something useful, or playing chess to hone is strategic thinking. In Stalag Luft III, it was organising the boys, gathering and analysing reconnaissance, and most recently building a crystal radio.

He was fiddling with it now. The boys were asleep, and rather than lay in his bunk doing nothing, Buck sat at the rickety table, holding the earpiece in place, touching the clip to the coil.

Static.

Static.

Static.

Bucky shuffled in his bunk.

Buck hoped he wouldn’t wake. Like everything else about him lately, Bucky’s sleep had become erratic. He’d slept like the dead, before, but now even that relief had been stripped from him.

And Buck so desperately wanted to provide him with whatever reprieve he could. John Egan - their beloved Bucky - had been the rock of the 100th. He’d given all of them a willing ear, a supportive hand, a laugh when all they wanted to do was cry. And now, when Bucky desperately needed them to step up and do for him, they had nothing to give, nothing to provide that critical, momentary, grounding humanity he’d given to them so easily. Given away so much in fact, that he didn’t have any left for himself.

And losing Bucky, even to himself, was unfathomable. They were inexorable.

-aking believe… in m- … so far away.

Gale’s hand stilled.

It couldn’t be.

-wish you…could hear w…say.

He dropped the earpiece. Quiet and quick as he could, Buck dove to where Bucky slept.

This. This was worth waking him for. A fragment of humanity - and one of Bucky’s favourite fragments - dropped right into their laps.

Music.

“Bucky,” he whispered urgent in his ear, well aware even in his excitement that grabbing him would be a bad idea.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. They flickered with fear for a split second before he clocked Buck’s apple cheeks and the delight in the eyes staring back at him.

“What? What is it?” He asked groggy but awake. “You hear something on the radio?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah. C’mere.”

Bucky untangled himself from the ratty blanket and trotted after Buck. Gale quickly plucked up the earpiece, worked the clip, and was relieved to hear the faint sounds still crackling.

He offered it to Bucky.

Oh and Gale didn’t think he’d ever forget the look that came over Bucky’s face.

It was like watching a man come back to life. Light flooded back into his eyes. A pleased flush gave health to his cheeks, and a smile Buck hadn’t seen since he called out to John at that barbed wire fence crept across his lips.

God, Bucky had laugh lines again.

In the quiet hush of their hut, Bucky whispered into the dark:

“And here, in the gloom of my lonely room, we’re dancing like we used to.”

Like the word was all he needed to be reminded that something like dancing still existed in the world, Bucky slowly, so slowly released the clip to stand and hold his hand out to Buck. Though he stooped so he could still hold the earpiece to his ear, as if he could hear the echo of the music he'd just let go of to ask Gale for a dance.

“They’re playing our song, Buck.” Bucky waggled his fingers and his eyebrows and in that moment he looked so much like the Bucky Gale had become part of, who had become part of him, that he could have wept. He was utterly powerless to refuse Bucky anything. It didn’t even occur.

Placing his hand into Bucky’s, and feeling a little smug at the pleased shock on his face, Gale let Bucky pull him close, though he didn’t miss the regretful look on his face when he had to put the earpiece down to do so.

Buck could do this. For Bucky. The boys were asleep and the night was as peaceful as it was going to get.

So, when Bucky tucked Gale’s hand safe between their chests; when he wrapped his other arm in a solid weight around Gale’s waist and Gale pressed his other hand in the space between Bucky’s shoulder blades, behind his heart; when Bucky began to lead them in his first dance in months -

Well, then Gale began to sing.

“I'm making believe that you're in my arms,

though I know you're so far away.

Making believe I'm talking to you,

wish you could hear what I say.

And here in the gloom of my lonely room,

we're dancing like we used to do.

Making believe is just another way of dreaming,

so till my dreams come true…”

Bucky watched him with wonder. Gale couldn’t watch him back, couldn’t bear the raw tenderness of it, and tucked his cheek against Bucky’s. Bucky pressed into it, and breathed Gale in.

“I'll whisper good night,

turn out the light and kiss my pillow,

making believe it's you.”

Buck’s voice vanished into the night and Bucky turned his head just enough to look Buck in the eye, forehead to forehead.

“Gale,” he breathed, reverent.

A prickle of nervous pleasure had Buck huffing a breath through a tiny smile. “Gale? What happened to Buck? He in trouble?”

Bucky shook his head and his skin rubbed softly against Gale’s. “Thought you hated ‘Buck’?”

Gale hummed. “There’s no Buck without Bucky, and I don’t hate that.”

Bucky pulled back a little. “No?”

And Gale closed the gap again. “No. I thought you hated ‘Gale’?”

John laughed gently through his nose. “As if I could.”

Gale made a little noise in his throat and lifted his eyes to Bucky’s. The space between Gale's brows was a little creased, confused, and Bucky knocked his head gently against it.

“How could I? Hmm? Gale. Know what it makes me think of?”

“What?” Gale near whispered.

“The wind. The skies. Flyin'. They’re beautiful, vast. Make me feel powerful, and freer than I ever felt in Wisconsin, before all this. How could I hate a name like that?”

Bucky brought their dance to its end and Gale just stared, raw and open.

He watched as the clinging vestige of John’s charm lifted Gale’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Thanks for the dance. Gale.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, Bucky headed back to his bunk and burrowed back under his blanket, and Buck didn’t want to deceive himself, but he thought the other Major might have stood straighter and settled more peacefully than he had since he got here.

Buck felt a rush of pride at that.

[inklore]

💕Bestie💕 I am in dire need of your incredible writing talents tonight and your slutty prompts request has arrived at the perfect time!

I would be indebted to you forever if you wrote something for Steve Rodgers! In my head, while Steve seems like a golden retriever of a human being, I have a feeling he would say the absolutely filthiest shit if his girl needed it (and I have a weakness for when men are just babbling incoherently about how fucking good their partner feels like 🥴) WE STAN VOCAL MEN IN THIS HOUSEHOLD 👏🏻👏🏻

I trust your beautifully creative brain, but I’d love something where it’s his first time sleeping with someone he’s been friends with for years - always a flirty will they won’t they type thing - and he’s been desperately in love with her but it’s all come to ahead now!

Please do with this what you will okay thanks byeeeeee love you 😘 😘

your horny wishes are merely my command, lovey. i hope you enjoy this quick little nasty thot <3

He doesn't need to say it—to say anything really. To vocalize how the both of you feel about getting to this point; the flirtations, the pining that you never got past, the need that has laid dormant, that is now all out on the table. That has you gripping your fingers into the meat of his shoulder. Your mouths open, touching, your breaths mingling, mixing in a shared desire—want—that you've both finally allowed yourselves to have.

Everything said the minute he pushed inside of you. The minute his girth stretched you out, the minute the "Oh, fuck," fell from his lips. His eyes screwed shut. Body still as if if he moved he might lose it completely. That this would end so shortly, quick, he's waited so long for this. To finally feel you, to have you like this.

"Need a minute," he mumbles against your lips, "just-ahh-" he groans into your mouth as his tongue moves against yours, as he slowly pushes into you until you're filled completely. Until he meets where you end. Finally becoming whole.

When he finally moves, when he finally starts thrusting inside of you it's like a saving grace. An ungodly feeling of pleasure singeing your nerve endings that you can't think, breathe, feel without it being because of Steve, for Steve.

And where your words lack his make up for it.

Where you can only moan and cry into his neck, against his lips, he makes up for with the filth that falls from his mouth. That brings you closer and closer to coming on his cock. That has you gripping around him and him groaning so deeply you think he must be going just as insane as you right now. The grip he has on the pillow your head is on so tight you can feel the fabric on the brink of giving.

"You feel so good. Fuck, how do you feel so good?" He kisses you, "you're unbelievable. Beautiful, warm-so fucking warm." Your tits bounce against his chest as his thrusts grow harder, faster, the tip of his cock hitting parts of your insides you expect to hurt but only bring more pleasure. More need. "Does it feel good for you? Do you like it, baby?"

[vermont-writes-fanfic]

How about some headcanons of Rip, Alucard, Schrodinger and Captain with S/O, who don't have very good opinion on humanity (not to the point of wanting humans' complete extermination, but still...)?

Hey anon! I know you asked for this a looong time ago, but I have some time so I thought why not do it! I wasn't sure exactly what you meant but I took it as the reader not having a good opinion of humanity and not the other's you had requested hope you don't mind! Also, doing this in parts!

Alucard(You are here) Rip Schrodinger Captain

Request: Yes

Warnings: Pessimism, kind self-disgust if you squint, mentions of wine

Sidenote: Reader is a human for Alucard and Rip, thought it would be interesting 

The conversation started when you were talking about the ghouls Alucard had torn through that day, you are well aware he doesnt have a very good perception of the ghouls and vampires that he has to chase around and neither did you.. He had brought up the targets of the particular hooligans he chased down which brought you to a bitter scoff. He watched with amusement as you rolled your eyes and took a sip of the wine you had on the bedside table. With a chuckle that seemed to almost come out as a purr he questions your behavior.

“Where did that come from?”

“Where did what come from?”

“That , I’ve never seen you so bothered.”

“Well it’s easy to be bothered with the human race, humans in general.” You say, taking another long sip of your drink.

“You’re a human,” he mentions, to which you nod your head and continue..

“I am, and I can’t stand my existence any more than I can any other humans… In a way, these vampires and ghouls serve as a reminder of just how awful humanity is. Given the chance of immortality and life you decide to go on a spree of mindless indulgence rather than refine your abilities and stay in hiding. Never satisfied with what we are given, it’s annoying really, our mindless gluttony.” You elaborate, swirling the dark ruby liquid in your crystalline glass.

He observes you, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he watches your movements. He couldn’t help the small feeling of  amused shock at the disdain in your voice ans you spoke your rather pessimistic piece to him.

“More, more, more, we are never satiated by anything. We get out of our parents homes to get away from the control but lose free food and shelter and so driven by necessity we get a job under someone elses control. And we pursue this even more than we need to, we want raises, side hustles,, so many not because they need it, but rather because they want the extra cash for some materialistic desire that will only sasiate our petty greed to show off what we have for a temporary time frame before we are woking for more things we don’t truly need. We ca[italise on others poor emotions and the unfortunate events around us for monetary gain or popularity and then drop it the moment it serves us no use. Greedy things we are, it is so embedded into our nature that when we lose all autonomy and become a ghoul all we want is more to feed off of and consume.” The tone of your voice could only be described as disgusted.

As you pause in your degrading tirade Alucard looks at you and laughs loudly, much to your irritation and for a long bit before settling down and tilting his head down to look at you from over the bride of his glasses.

“You humans are interesting, I never knew one to have such a view,”

“Us humans are disgusting, we only benefit others for our own gain. We are selfish and self-cented creatures at our filthy cores and I truly can’t stand being one myself. Everyone in this place that has humanity is still corrupted by it. It’s awful really…”

“Seras doesn’t seem to mind, she clings to that humanity you detest pathetically.”

“Only because it was taken from her, she was too determined to let her life be taken in any way than the one she had planned and so desperately she clings to every part of her human life she can retain, simply because it wasn’t her choice. Sir Integra, is saving the people of london not by the queens orders but as a way to get revenge and prove to her father and her uncle who you killed that she can do this job just as well as the other Hellsings who had the spot before her and her father. Walter is following the Hellsing organisation simply because he was once recruited for his own selfish reasons and is bound to Sir Integra and every soldier their is greedy for the title of glory and a false sense of pride and duty that comes with supposedly saving the rest of the world from those true coloured ghouls.. Everything us humans do, is driven by our own selfishness and greed. I’m only here to begin with because Sir Interga gave me a choice to prove myself and get revenge on the filthy monsters that nearly took my life. Simply for my own satisfaction, I mean even my being here with you now., in a way is my selfish need to have you as my own, and mine alone.”

He listens as you speak and slides a large hand up your back, the other taking away the now empty glass from your hand. A smirk plays on his lips, clearly amused by his darlings perspective on humanity and their own kind. Normally you kept your rants to a minimum, but the bottle of wine that had made it down your lips  seems to have really opened you up. As you huff and roll your eyes, he chuckles, not only at that but at the way you thought. So pessimistic and borderline cynical, something about it had made him a little excited but before he can say anything you are dosing off the wine having caught up with you as you slumber away. Above your sleeping form, he adds his own thoughts, seeing as you had barely allowed him the chance at all to speak.

“You humans are greedy, yes, but in the end only you humans and your humanity can even hope to kill monsters like me.”

[skayafair]

John, Lies and Trust, and the Dark World Pt.2

Part 1:

The Dark World

That's the part where I get very emotional for many reasons.

First time was bad enough to become what appears to be a life-long trauma and the worst nightmare John's terrified to death about. But THIS time he experienced a close bond with someone, learned what not being alone feels like, reshaped his mind to be more human-like... and lost all that. He was in the worst place in all the worlds, alone, again. Somewhere he'd give almost anything to never be. Unfamiliar horrors are one thing, but it's entirely different when you went through hell, know exactly how unbearable it is, and then you have to go through this again. Knowing how it would feel. This is devastating. And that's the first blow.

The second hit is that if I understand it correctly, ending up in the Dark World is fate worse than death because you cannot die there. As I get it, things there are already dead. So if a god - fine, a piece of a god, doesn't matter in this case, - ends up there, and gods are immortal, they have to endure this indefinitely, most likely forever, with no hope to escape. As if the very nature of the Dark World was not bad enough, the worst thing about being there this time was that it went on and on and on, the horrors didn't just happen one or a many times, they kept happening with no end in sight. Before there was at least a book. Now there was nothing. So no matter how long John held to his newfound principles and determination... anyone would run out of this eventually. I'm not surprised he rolled back to the old ways. By its description, the Dark World is not a nice and welcoming place. And, like I said, John wants to live and couldn't die there anyway, so he had to preserve what he could. He had to survive, and a survival mode is never pretty. We don't know what exactly he had to do there - on his own and for Kayne??? - but judging by the way he was in s3 I think we can confidently say one thing: he didn't enjoy any of it, and that's important. I'll get back to this later, but mention that Arthur in his survival mode is pretty terrible either.

Now we enter the territory of questions and assumptions, but still. I wondered if John had some hope - certainly not much, but some - that Arthur would get him out of there, like the first time? Or that when Arthur dies, they'll at least meet each other? John knows that together they can endure any horrors. Almost anything feels more bearable when you aren't alone in this. When it isn't lonely. But no one came. John was abandoned, completely, for good. @keykidpilipili mentioned how this situation with the Dark World is similar to Aqua's in KH, I went to watch the scenes with her and I think they really deliver exactly how unbearable this is and why. What makes me think I'm not just making things up is the fact that Arthur heard his voice during one of his first NDEs. What if it actually was John, calling from the Dark World, desperate for any glimpse of hope and companionship? Cry with me And then in s3 Arthur really says it. "How about we find each other if we end up there". Gods, my heart.

One last thing. Whatever happened there, however long it lasted, whatever John had to give up and lose there... he kept his promise. He never forgot his one and only friend, never stopped keeping him dear. And I think it's another important thing not only about John and how much his whole personality is built around being true and genuine, but also about their relationship.

Yes, to me John is about truth and not lies. His reationship with both is complicated, but... when one builds themselves up as they go, not knowing who they are yet, only exploring the concept and the limits, lies tend to really confuse them. John hates being misjudged, called by any other name than the one he chose himself, when others say things about him which are simply not true as if they knew better. He's going in a full rage mode immediately. Oh how much I understand you in this, pal. It's important for him to distinguish the truth - what actually is there, and about himself as well, - from lies, assumptions and illusions. Important to keep them apart.

But, again, when he's backed into a corner, he'd revert to lies as one of the escape means, hating every moment of it. It's a survival tactic for him - a bad one, but one of the most familiar as it seems, and therefore nearly automatic, like a knee jerk reflex. It's also the last resort.

[theaudacitytowrite]

Sinner's Damnation - Part 2

Part 1

Loki x Fem!Reader

A/N: I'm so excited to share this with you all. This is a request by an anon and is a collab with my wonderful Variant @lostgreekgod . We've been working on this for a long time to perfect it. I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: After a dispute in the Stark Tower, Loki runs away. Trying to get some time for himself he, quite literally, runs into you, while you're running away yourself.

Warnings: violence, blood, death, human trafficking, gore

Word count: 4.532

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! &lt;3

"Ugh," you groaned, your palm immediately coming to rest over your eyes. Your throbbing head had certainly dimmed down, but you wished it would leave completely.

Forcing your eyes open, you gasped. You were back in a cottage. At first, you thought it was the same one you had tried so hard to escape from so desperately. You fumbled, rubbing your eyes, hoping this was a terrible nightmare. Your breath came out in panicked whimpers as you forced yourself up, your entire body freezing when you felt something soft below you.

You were laying on what felt like a comforter. Your hand went to cup your head, your eyes widening when you couldn't feel the wound. Was it all a dream? You couldn't feel the sticky wetness of all the blood you had lost either. That's it. You were officially losing your mind. Before you could come up with another coherent thought, the door opened, light flooding in and blinding you entirely. Gasping, you covered your eyes again, pulling yourself away from where you had been laying. You whimpered when your back met the wooden wall. He was back, wasn't he?

"No, no, no," you chanted, your breathing becoming more erratic and irregular. Your eyesight faded once again, and your throat closed up. "Not again," you whimpered. All you could hear was the blaring sound of chattering in your head. 'He's here, he's here,' it chanted, the voice drilling into your skull. Your heartbeat was so hard against your chest, you were so sure your ribs were going to crack. You twisted around, suddenly too claustrophobic. Your breaths came out shallower than before. Sweat dripped from your forehead as you pushed yourself farther away, your head once again throbbing harder than ever.

"Hey, it's alright," a new voice said, soft and comforting. You gasped again, squinting as you tried to focus on the source of the voice. 

"You're safe now," the new voice said, the soft tone almost hypnotizing. You could listen to that voice all day. Your eyes slowly accustomed to the brightness, your breathing slowing down only to see that the source of the voice-- another man-- was stepping closer to you. You scrambled, feeling for anything, a weapon, anything-- before scrunching your hands into fists and bracing yourself. "Don't you dare get any closer to me!" you hissed, thankful that you sounded steady even after the panic attack you were still pushing yourself through.

"Breath," he whispered gently, crouching next to your scrunched figure.

Green eyes. So beautiful. They landed on yours, and your world stopped. Your brain short-circuited with a cheesy pickup line that went, 'Is your dad a thief? Because he stole all the stars from the sky and put it in your eyes,'-- and suddenly that line made so much sense. His eyes were mesmerizing. And oh, his skin. Soft, porcelain skin, a literal to-die bone structure, sleek black hair - you wished you didn't have to meet a man like this in such a dingey place and such a bad situation. Suddenly, you remembered where you were. You could’ve slapped yourself across the face. Were you really thinking about how beautiful a man was when you were literally about to be sold for money? You could only revel in your embarrassment for a short while before the man interrupted your thoughts once again, with that smooth silky voice of his.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, reaching for you. You inched a little farther away, prompting him to stop immediately. He looked at you, scanning your face. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "How's your head?" he asked, while all you could manage to do was stare. Was... was he the one who had helped you last night?

"Fine," you blurted out, ignoring the pang of pain that raced up into your skull, leaving its trail cold. You grimaced internally, wondering what was going to happen. Was this man with him? An alias of sorts?

The man hummed, not looking entirely convinced. But he didn't press, and you appreciated that little shred of generosity.

"Who are you?" you asked tentatively, suspiciously, secretly begging he was in no way connected to him. You shuddered. Was he still out there, looking for you? Would you be able to run away before that?

The man took a while to respond. His eyes still remained on you, but not in the malicious way he had looked at you. This was different, but you couldn't really put your finger on it.

"I am Loki, of Asgard. The rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief," he replied slowly, all in one breath. His heart sank as your eyes widened in recognition.

“Loki Laufeyson?” you gasped involuntarily, “… as in the one-” you thought out loud.

‘The one who attacked New York’ Loki automatically finished your sentence in his head, mentally rolling his eyes.

He had heard this answer a thousand times by now and of course, a mere mortal would only see his past, not able to forgive his past wrongdoings. But who could trust the monster who had once attacked the place you were calling your home? No matter how many missions of the avengers he would’ve joined and successfully overcome, he would be the villain in the eyes of the public forever. Loki was already anticipating for you to shy away further from him when your next words made him scrunch his eyebrows.

“-who helped defeat Thanos?” Loki’s eyes snapped to yours, his green eyes locking onto yours as he tried to process your answer.

“Erm, yes,” he mumbled once he had found his voice again.

All the tenseness left your body instantly, feeling safe in Loki’s presence. As an Avenger, he surely would protect you and bring you somewhere safe. You couldn’t even thank the gods enough for the luck you had in your misery. How often would one meet an actual Hero and especially in a situation they direly needed someone to help? You felt your jaw unclench and the pounding of pain that had pestered you began to ease at least a little.

Your eyes began to slowly scan the room, trying to find anything familiar to no avail. According to the view you had out of the presumably living room window, you still had to be in the mountains. The snow-covered hills and snowy trees were a dead giveaway. Loki stood up, extending a hand to help you up.

“Maybe you want to sit back on the bed?” he asked tentatively, “It’s a lot more comfortable than the cold floor.

“Where are we?” you ask, still a bit wary of your surroundings as you sat on the bed. Loki sat in an armchair that he had pulled away from the other side of the room, which had stood in front of the fireplace.

“In one of Tony Stark’s holiday domiciles.” Loki observed your still-tense glare, “Are you sure your head is doing fine?”

“Could be better… could be worse,” you mumbled dryly.

“May I see?” Loki pointed to your forehead, and you nodded, “I could help you if you allowed me to.”

“Sure.” you agreed thankfully, “If you have an ibuprofen or something like that, I’d be more than happy.”

As he stood up from his seat you didn’t expect him to come to a halt in front of you. When his cool fingertips graced your skin, a shiver run through your body. He carefully inspected the gash in your head, accessing how deep the wound was. Then he carefully placed his thumb at the sides of your temple, his other fingers holding your head in place gently. 

“This might tickle a bit,” he informed you but before you could ask what he meant you noticed a green glimmer from his hands. And as he had warned, your head began to tickle, goosebumps raising over your whole body. And all of a sudden it felt like a heavy load had been lifted from your head- the hammering had stopped.

 “How are you doing that?” you gasped relieved.

“It’s hard to explain,” Loki mumbled as he was still deep in concentration.

“Magic stuff?”

“Yeah.” Loki hummed, feeling your gaze resting on him.

“Can you still remember what happened?” Loki tried to fill the silence between the two of you but his question made you gulp hard. Much to your dismay, you could remember every single second of this horror trip, it had ingrained itself in your brain permanently, probably forever. Loki noticed the shift in your mood, the breathing that slowly started to get out of hand and your eyes staring off into the distance.

 “Hey, everything is alright.” he kneeled down in front of you, cautiously taking your hand in his to ground you, not wanting to push you into another panic attack, “Whatever did happen to you, you’re safe now,” he reassured once again.

You mustered up your bravest half-smile for Loki as you nodded slowly. He reminded you to take a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he gradually calmed you down again.

“That’s good.” he gently stroked your shoulder when you had managed to calm down, “You don’t need to tell me anything if it’s too much right now.”

“No, it’s ok.” you swallowed hard.

“Take your time. I’m here. Nothing can happen to you anymore.” Loki assured you as he sat beside you again, but somehow your gut didn’t buy it as much as your brain tried to convince it.

With shaky breaths, you recounted everything that had happened since yesterday. The usual walk home after work up until to helping a total stranger with directions until the chaos had ensued. The chase on the street, only a few meters away from your apartment, as that horrible man followed your suit, to when he had knocked you out. 

Loki had fallen silent a while ago as he listened carefully to every detail you told. His eyes were fixed on something out of your site, his glare getting darker and darker with each passing sentence. His knuckles were turning white as he balled them into fists, while a raging hatred formed in his chest against this man, while the words spilt over your lips. Each sentence becoming darker and darker.

“And then I woke up in some sort of cabin or cottage. I heard him talk about “selling me” to someone on the phone. So, I tried to find anything to defend myself, so I could overpower him and run away as soon as he would enter the room.”

“God, I was so naive.” you choked, finally letting the emotions wash over you, the magnitude of the situation suddenly hit you in full force, “Why didn’t I listen to my gut in the first place? Why do I always feel the need to overstep my comfort zone so I can be ‘polite’ even if it’s dangerous? If it wasn’t for you, he would have... I mean I have nobody. No one would’ve looked for me. Maybe I would’ve gotten fired for not showing up at my job, but they wouldn’t have thought, ‘Hey, better check up on Y/N.’ No, he could’ve just sold me and who knows where I would’ve ended up- gosh, who knows how many women he already has kidnapped.”

You took a deep breath, consciously deciding not to think about this anymore. That’s when the silence in the room made you turn to your listener who seemed to be somewhere else but in the present.

“Loki?” you squeezed his hand that still held yours, “I hope I didn’t weigh you down with this.”

“What? No, of course not. I’m still listening.” he shook himself out of his thoughts, “Do you have any idea where that cabin is you woke up in?”

“I have no idea. It was pitch black in there. I didn’t really pay attention to any details either. I simply ran for my life.” you hang your head in shame for not being any more helpful.

“Hey, don’t be sorry for it.” Loki seemed to look right through you, “You did what you had to do to survive. And you succeeded. That’s what matters, ok?”

With tears brimming in your eyes, you nodded at him.

“You said you cut your palm on the nail, can I see it?” Loki redirected the conversation again, his heart pulled in his chest as he saw you this distraught. He only knew you for a matter of hours but somehow, he felt connected to you already. He had never met someone who had trusted him this quickly and had been vulnerable with him from the start. He could imagine how you felt right now, which made him admire you even more.

He softly took your hand in his after you had extended it to him. He gently unwrapped your hand from the torn-off cloth and inspected the cut in your palm, just as he did with the gash on your head. The familiar tickle of his magic hurried over your skin as it engulfed your palm completely until it reached the wound. You watched in awe as the cut on your palm closed itself. 

“Thank you.” you smiled at him genuinely as you examined your palm- there was no trace that anything had ever pierced your skin.

“Please don’t thank me.” Loki laughed sheepishly, “It’s the least I can do after I hit you with my car.” 

“Not on purpose though?” you raised an eyebrow at him playfully, your mind now temporarily calmer than it was a few seconds ago.

“No, definitely not! It was an accident.” Loki quickly retorted in horror, his heart speeding up. Please, please. I am not a monster.

“I’m just messing with you.” you sniffed, snickering. Squeezing his arm gently, you whispered, “I’m just so grateful that you found me and helped me.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Just accept my gratitude, ok?” you mock-glared at him.

“Ok.” Loki chuckled, raising his palms in surrender. “Can I give you anything else? Maybe a cup of tea or something to eat?”

“That does sound nice.”

Without so much as a wave of his hand, a tray with a steaming mug of camomile tea and some snacks appeared on the small bedside table. You hadn’t even realised how dry your throat had become until you took a sip of the tea. The scent that filled your nose calmed you down immediately, reminding you of your childhood when your grandma had made you a cup of it every night, so you would sleep soundly. You wondered if Loki knew that it was your favourite tea. But either way, you were more than thankful for some peace of mind. 

“And now rest,” Loki ordered once you had finished, conjuring another blanket and a pillow for you to lie on. “And tomorrow morning I will take you back to the Avengers' tower. There the medical staff can take a look over you, and make sure you’re all good.”

“That’s really kind of you,” you whispered in awe, wondering what you did to deserve a knight as righteous as him. 

“Thank y-”

“I know.” he interrupted you this time, “Now sleep. You must be exhausted.”

He had already turned on his heel to leave when your mind screamed at the sudden realisation of being alone. Your pulse started to raise, and the room suddenly was several degrees too hot as you started to panic.

“Loki?” you squeaked out.

“Yes?” he turned around immediately, sensing your discomfort.

“Could you maybe... stay?” your request was only above a whisper, “Even if it's just until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” he smiled warmly at you, strolling back over to you. The mattress dipped when he sat down at the foot of your bed.

You shimmied under the blanket contently until you had found a comfortable position. At first, you were convinced that you might not be able to sleep at all but as you were contemplating all of what had happened, the fatigue overwhelmed your body as it finally rested comfortably on top of the bed and despite the protest of your brain, your heavy eyes fell shut.

The sun had set some hours ago. The sky was already tinted into a deep red as the pitch-black night started to stream down the sky. Not a single cloud was floating in the night sky, promising a freezing cold night. The cabin was silent aside from the crackling of fire that roared in the fireplace as Loki sat patiently in the armchair waiting for the night to set in, slowly twisting his dagger in his hand.

He perked up his ears as he heard the lock rustle, as though someone was picking it, the front door opening with a creek. The silhouette of a man entered the room, not aware of Loki’s presence. Only when he had closed the door and turned on the light did his eyes widen in shock.

“Who are you?” he tried to sound intimidating, but Loki could hear the waver in his voice. He was nothing more than a scared little pincher, barking at anything that scared him.

"I am Loki, of Asgard. The rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief.” Loki growled deeply, clenching his teeth.

“That dude from New York?” the man gulped.

“Precisely.” Loki grinned like a cheshire cat.

“What are you doing in my house?” he stuttered.

���Aren’t you missing something?” Loki mocked as he played with the tip of his dagger.

“What?” the man’s eyes darted around the room nervously, “I have no idea what you want from me. Listen, bro, you’re at the wrong address, I swear.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely at the right address.” Loki retorted, “Does the name Y/N ring a bell, perhaps?”

“Y/N?” Jack suddenly sounded worried, “You found her?”

“I did.” he dryly stated.

“Where is she? Is she well?” it disgusted Loki that this man really thought that Loki couldn’t see through his charade and foolish acting. He was the God of Lies.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern… my dude,” Loki replied with disdain, his tone dryly mocking the trespasser’s choice of excuses.

“It actually is.” Jack suddenly retorted, his tactic changing “You see this? That bitch stabbed me! I’m filing a report against her!” he pulled the collar of his shirt to the side to expose an amateurishly tied-up bandage.

“Easy with your tongue.” Loki snarled the warning; he didn’t like Jack’s tone one bit. “I’d advise you to choose your next words carefully.”

“Hey man, I don’t want any trouble with you. I don’t know what that stupid whore told you, but this is between me and her. I just want her to be accountable for what she did.” Jack tried one last half-hearted attempt to paint himself as the victim, “Like look at it! She disfigured me.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to disfigure something that looked crude from the beginning.” Loki deadpanned. Jack's face fell as he realised, he had no chance of winning Loki over, “You really think I was going to fall for this?” Loki raised his eyebrow at him in aversion.

“Well, it was worth a try.” Jack responded dryly as he walked further inside the room, discarding his jacket on a chair, “What do you want from me? It’s her word against mine, and we all know how it will pan out for me in a court. Maybe a few months in prison at worst.” he cackled with a twisted smile, rolling up his sleeves.

In a matter of seconds, he was thrown up against the wall, his back hitting the wooden cladding and the air escaping his lungs in a hurtful huff. Loki’s face was mere inches from his, Jack’s feet dangling in the air.

“Maybe a judge won’t punish you for what you did, but right now it’s just you and me. And I have no problem in avenging for those in need.”

“What do you want to do to me?” Jack smirked maliciously, “If you kill me, you won’t get away with it that easily. Not with your past.”

Loki’s hand around Jack’s throat tightened, “Why would I simply kill you if I could show you all these different ways I thought of instead? I could show you things that paint all your dreams haunted, yet they are nothing compared to what I can do to you.” Loki sneered, his hand suddenly flaming up with green glowing power, “It’ll only sting for a moment.” he assured as he forcefully intruded Jack’s mind, who struggled against his grip and this unfamiliar sensation that wrapped around his head and felt like it was seeping into every pore.

“Pay attention now.” Loki’s words rang through Jack’s mind, as images flashed through his mind, “I will skin you, slowly, carefully. All while you’re still awake to witness the agonizing pain you deserve. The same pain you brought to Y/N and probably so many others. I will make you scream beautiful symphonies of agony while I enjoy every second of it.

After that, I will break each and every bone in your body. It will be precise and painful, I will hear your screams and begs, but I won’t stop, no. I will make you bleed for what you did and I will enjoy every second of your wails and gasps. And I won’t stop until I see the light leave your dull eyes and your chest rise for one last time.”

  And with that, the connection was gone. Jack crashed onto the floor, his hand immediately trying to soothe his sore throat as he struggled for air.

“Do you understand?” Loki kneeled in front of him, invading his personal space once more. Jack only nodded as an answer, crawling further away from Loki.

“That’s a good boy.” Loki mocked and pat Jack’s head. He stood up, brushing off his knees from some dirt before he turned on his heel to leave. He had just opened the door of the cabin when he heard Jack's wheeze: “Keep that bitch! I will find another naive whore.”

Loki sighed heavily, as he shook his head pointedly, his back still facing Jack. How much more foolish could a mortal attempt to be? This man, the one who he had just so viciously threatened, really thought he had the upper hand here. He really thought he could ‘be the man’, or whatever stupider and think he had the last word. Loki scoffed at the atrocity of dullness. Midgardians had fragile bodies, but there was nothing more fragile than their egos.

“Oh Jack,” he huffed, “Sometimes it could be an advantage to you keep your mouth shut.”

Loki slammed shut the door of the cabin, approaching Jack with long strides this time. The blades of his daggers flash from under his sleeves.

With heavy steps, Loki exited the wooden hut. His breath was ragged and his clothes messy. Like a switch that had been flipped his posture straightened. His long fingers glided through his locks, pulling the sweaty and dishevelled strands out of his face. With another deep breath, he composed himself. A sharp tug on his collar to straighten his attire was the last before he shook himself completely out of his frenzy. Slowly he made his way back to Stark’s car that was parked deep in the woods, the snow turning crimson under his boots.

“Where did you go last night?” your timid voice brought Loki back from the memories of last night.

“Hm?” he cleared his throat, his gaze never leaving the road.

“I woke up once and you were gone. But the next time I woke up you were sitting at the fireplace, reading a book,” you explained.

“I was out getting breakfast for us,” he replied curtly.

“That late?” you thought out loud.

“We should be at the Stark Tower in a few hours. Tony is already waiting for us.” Loki glanced at the clock on the board computer.

“Do you mind if I turn up the Radio?” you asked with a sweet smile to which Loki only waved towards the touchpad, giving you free rein. 

You adjusted the radio until the voice of a radio announcer sounded through the speaker:

“This just in. After a brutal animal attack yesterday night, officials are still on the hunt for the wild animal. During this time, it’s not known if it was a wolf or a bear since the attack was so brutal that even specialists can’t seem to agree on it. The victim is a 30-ish-year-old John Doe. He was about 1,85m tall and had brownish, black hair. He was wearing washed-up jeans and a dark blue jacket with orange lining laid in his cabin. Authorities are still on the search for witnesses and are asking for help from civilians who might have seen this man before. Residents and Tourists are further advised to not leave their houses in the area of-”

“Orange lining…” you mumbled knitted eyebrows, somehow the description of that jacket had rung a bell. You had seen a similar jacket only days ago, you were sure of it. The wheels in your head turned- your eyes grew wide as you pieced together who John Doe had to be.

Meanwhile, Loki’s grip on the steering tightened, just as they tightened around Jack’s throat last night. He felt sick as he worried about your reaction. He knew that you must’ve figured it out by now. You knew who Loki was, what he had done in the past, and what he was still capable of. Now you surely thought the worst of him. That was what hurt the most. Loki had ruined just another chance to connect with someone on this earth after it had started so promisingly.

Sweat was forming on his brow as he tried to figure out how to explain it to you. That he had paid Jack a visit to scare him off and give him one last chance to become a better man. But when he realised that Jack wouldn’t take this opportunity and instead simply continue his gruesome work, he couldn't just leave him behind. He had to do something, he had to keep others safe from this horrible excuse of a man. Loki had never planned to end him the way he had but what else could he have done to stop him?

“I-” Loki croaked out.

“I wish I could thank this ‘animal’ or whoever did this.” you looked outside; your gaze fixed on the passing scenery.

Loki took a shaky breath, his eyes darting quickly to you. Instead of disgust or even worse fear, he was met with a warm and content smile. All the skittish and nervous energy you had shown previously was suddenly swapped out with a relieved, almost calm energy.

“But it would probably tell me, that I don’t need to thank him for freeing this world of such a horrible person… still, I will never forget his heroic deed.” your eyes met for a second as you smiled at Loki.

“Quite right.” Loki hummed relieved as he drove towards the horizon.

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[bonetrousled]

can you talk about why you disliked undertale yellow? never played it or watched a playthrough but i’m very curious!

PREFACING THIS WITH A DISCLAIMER i know it is a passion project and it makes me Feel Bad that my feelings on it r this negative. i do not mean to discredit the years of work anybody put into it and i am So Happy that the general consensus is that people really liked it! i'm glad the team's work paid off. i am also going to be SUPER opinionated. undertale is my biggest interest of all time it has been my special interest for going on Nine Years . i am Wired to have very strong feelings on it . please do NOT take my opinion as a message to Not enjoy it if you do! play it and form an opinion on ur own time

also SPOILERS for the game!

that being said

i will first state the things i Enjoyed

music was phenomenal! it was very fun and atmospheric

artwork was very good! it makes me a little sad that the canon characters we see didn't really get the tlc/polish that all of the original content did, but that's ok!

i like how smarmy flowey was in the no mercy run. it was a little ooc at times but i had a blast (which will sadly become a negative) partly bc of his attitude

i love mo as a character. im going to rescue him from this game i just know it

ok. things that frustrate me from least to most (i will try to keep this brief bc i WILL go on a tangent if left unrestrained)

i wish the main cast had more variety in monster types. body shape, proportions, colors, etc! with how wide the array of the cast is in ut, it's just a little sad that the main cast here all roughly have the same build, height, and aren't really "monstery". lots of the non-main characters (i am including the feisty five in here) have more diverse and visually interesting designs to me and i wish there was just a bit more variety

add-on to the previous point: something abt the fact that dalv just kind of looks like a human Guy who is Purple with Horns makes me irrationally irritated. they could have put a little more of a bat motif in there or Something because the first time i saw him i genuinely didn't think he was supposed to be a monster

some of the fights are NONSENSE BULLSHIT HARD for no reason. some of these have been fixed since release but there were multiple segments that weren't even like. main story character fights that made me want to rip my hair out. additionally the shops are FEW and FAR between. it was a STRUGGLE to get enough healing items 90% of the time and i had to ration them out constantly

i know most were patched out and this is kind of a nitpick but the complete ABUNDANCE of grammatical and spelling errors on release took me out of the flow of things SO much. places that desperately needed a comma that had none, words completely misspelled (outside of punchlines for jokes), things like that. it wouldn't have been such a problem but it happened SO much and really got into the way of making sure dialogue progressed as normal. speaking of

i'm so sorry. half of the dialogue and jokes make me want to shriek and scream in agony. maybe it's just not my cup of tea and nobody is forcing you to have completely toby-fox-accurate jokes in your game but the majority of the jokes made in the pacifist/neutral runs fall completely flat for me. the general dialogue is very fanfic-esque to me in a way ? i do Not know how to describe it. it's not Good. along w that i'm sorry but in my opinion the way they wrote asgore in there is COMPLETELY out of character. i'm going to be so so honest mr king "fuzzy pushover" fluffybuns isn't going to go GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND NEVER RETURN!!!!! the man got beat up by a child and took her in to train her. like yeah his garden is sentimental or whatever but like. he is such a Nice Guy. he would Not do that

the timeline does not make Any sense. if frisk is the first human to fall in YEARS to the point where everyone is losing hope of ever getting another soul for the barrier and most monsters don't recognize you as a human and let you interact w them freely why in the Fuck are undyne and alphys just like. alive and kicking here. why is alphys doing amalgamate shit already. what is going ON

and finally. the part that makes me the Most Irritated

i cannot fucking stand the story. I AM SORRY

i physically cannot expound on this as much as i want to bc the post is long enough as it is and i'll go on forever but generally speaking

i Do Not Like ceroba. i didn't really feel any connection or anything to any of the other characters in General but her entire deal and everything that surrounds it just makes me So Mad. like ok. i tried to get past the "oh my husband is a super important scientist (but not the royal scientist because that's alphys teehee but still REALLY important) and he's also secretly a boss monster (even though the only boss monsters we see are the Actual Fucking King and Queen of monsters and are the same monster subtype)" shit but like. THEN it's like. oh he's actually making a super secret magic serum that uses essence from a boss monster soul and a human soul (where did he get that. he made this after he was fired from his job. where did he get a human soul from) to give EVERY monster the power of a boss monster so that when we EVENTUALLY get enough souls to get to the surface (could literally be hundreds of years from now) we'll be strong enough to beat the humans (that's why asgore is collecting the souls in the first place. to shatter the barrier and become a god strong enough to beat the humans. that's the Point)

but WUH OH!!!! the serum is actually KILLING him!!!! and he never told his wife! so he leaves a series of tapes behind to tell her abt it after he dies and IN THESE TAPES he's like listen. here's this awesome potion im making. you need a BOSS MONSTER SOUL and a HUMAN SOUL to make it work. our daughter IS a boss monster. BUT. do NOT FUCKING use it on her. ok. DON'T. do that. ok love you (dies) AND FUCKING. her like 6 year old daughter walks in and speaks in a perfect eloquent sentence and says some shit like "we have to carry on daddy's legacy :(" and asks to be injected w the shit that we saw kill her dad SECONDS PRIOR and ceroba is virtually IMMEDIATELY like well ok if the kindergartner says it's fine. AND OF COURSE HER DAUGHTER IMMEDIATELY FALLS DOWN????

and when i tell u the like. WHOLE second half of the game is dedicated to this bullshit nonsense. ceroba has this whole thing where she's trying to kill you because you're pure of heart or whatever and it'll work for the serum or something and after a LONG ASS (stupid incredibly hard for no reason considering SHE IS NOT a boss monster) battle w her she's like ok i'm not gonna do that anymore i give up kill me etc. and in pacifist you're like nah i won't kill u i forgive you Hooray!

and so. right. youve been fighting the ENTIRE TIME. to find the missing kids. to get home. to leave the underground after figuring out what happened. there are only FIVE human souls at this point. having one more will NOT break the barrier. you've been fighting to LIVE this Entire Time. the story must end in clover's death SOMEHOW but literally the driving force here has been survival

clover is literally like ummmm ok well im gonna give up my soul right here right now to add it to the pile. *dies on rooftop ALONE* . the shriek i screamed when this happened was. Astronomical. like. oh yeah everybody let the 9 year old give their life for a civilization that has been trying to kill them this Entire Time. never mind the fact it makes all of the fighting and striving and grueling we did Worthless because clover decides to sacrifice themselves completely out of the player's control. this wouldn't make me AS mad if we had like. a choice like the forgive him/do not asriel thing where we could face asgore and be forced to lose OR sacrifice ourselves but even then it's just. SO silly to me.

i think i get the like. doomed parents sad child dreemurr parallels they were TRYING to go for but it is all so clunky and wonky and. just DOES not work narratively if you think about ANY aspect of it for too long

all of these factors combined made the game a complete and total Slog to get through . it is Not just me i streamed it to a few friends the whole time and the opinion was the Same

HOWEVER.

the no mercy run, completely against what it is MADE to do, was fucking awesome

the passive aggressive comments from flowey the entire time were hilarious. the power trip i got chasing axis was splendid. i didn't have to sit through pages of dialogue that made my eye twitch. i just got to Kill People.

i do Not like the fact that they seemed to think no mercy = Hard Bosses which. isn't really true for undertale ? out of the normal bosses only two are ramped up in difficulty and it thematically makes sense Why. in uty martlet gets multiple fights (including a Bullshit Insane Hard Final Fight), ceroba gets a Bullshit Insane Hard fight w a new mechanic that is introduced out of Nowhere and took me like 6 times to notice that it was even Implemented, and axis gets a tough fight. which is Fine but i do not think it really understood the message of like. the no mercy run is not supposed to be Fun. you are eviscerating this world and everything it has to offer. you're literally Killing the game. it's a tricky thing to balance but all in all No part of it made me feel bad. this could be due to me Already not really caring abt any of the characters but. sigh

also martlet gets really strong at the end bc she injects herself w dt but like. why does she know about that. she does guard stuff Near the Lab but why does she Know about the experiments. the whole point is that nobody Else Knows. where did she get that from. what the fuck

anyway. says that i won't go on for too long. proceeds to go on for too long like some kind of Liar

[aihoshiino]

Number 24, for Ai!

so this was originally a simple answer to the simple question of "What characters from your other fandoms remind you of [this character]?" and in the process of my writing spiraled into an essay beyond my control but at this point everyone is here to listen to me go insane about themes and narratives. So. Let's talk about Coffin Girls.

COFFIN GIRLS: FUTURE (HOPE) AND FUTURELESSNESS (DESPAIR)

Using the original question as a starting point here - I absolutely can't answer it without starting with Yuuri Wakasa from School-Live!, both because she was the big Brain Melting Blorbo before Ai and because the Yuuri Wakasa to Ai Hoshino pipeline is so direct it's kind of hilarious.

While on page they play out as very different characters, once you start really digging into them the similarities jump out: they are both young women suffering adultification in situations where their survival relies on their being about to match these adult standards. They're both maternal figures and, most important of all, both of them are primarily defined by the roles they assigned themselves that go on to completely control their lives.

While these are both pretty different roles, they are both defined by a lack of weakness, vulnerability and humanity rather than the creation of new, ingenuine traits. The major divergence is their motivation in creating these masks and how they go on to affect their relationship with other little people.

Ai created her mask in the hopes of presenting a version of herself that could love and be loved by other people. Yuuri's was a matter of survival: she creates an unshakable, reliable, invincible version of herself to ensure she and the others have the strength to endure the situation they're in, bottling up her feelings because letting herself be compromised by then could very literally end in someone being killed. Both of them desperately maintain these masks long past the point of it being detrimental to them because they fear what will happen and what pain they will face when it comes down.

The primary difference is that while Ai is more straightforwardly a victim of circumstance, Yuuri is much more directly the author of her own misery. This is obviously not to say Yuuri is to blame at all for her situation but that this is one of the major points of difference between her and Ai;

Ai's fear of rejection is learned, entirely founded in the very real and persistent abuse and rejection she has suffered her whole life. She is, quite frankly, correct that people prefer the flawless and inhuman "Ai of B-Komachi" over the real Ai who is in pain and suffering. Since the moment she was born, she has never been afforded love or acceptance and even being treated with basic kindness and decency has been conditional, predicated on the doctoring of her honest self into a pretty, socially acceptable lie.

Yuuri's fear of rejection hues closer to a sense of duty - her mask is a responsibility she imposed on herself and so too are the supposed consequences of failure. Yuuri has the unconditional acceptance Ai has searched for her whole life - she is surrounded by people who love her, who would accept her as she is and help her every step of the way if she faltered but at every opportunity she has to reach out to them, Yuuri cannot bring herself to do so. She defines herself so strongly as a caretaker that she cannot conceptualise of allowing someone to care for her in return. She must be strong because if she is weak, then that's all good as completely losing her place in the club in her mind.

This is because, for all their similarities, Ai and Yuuri are driven by entirely opposing cores; hope and all consuming despair.

Ai is a person driven by desperate, unwavering hope. Everything she does is in service of creating a future for herself where the things that she lies about can eventually become true. She wants to be happy - she believes she eventually, one day, will be happy and fights with everything she has, against every possible obstacle in her way, to achieve that promised happiness. She hates herself and so works toward creating a version of herself that even she can eventually love. Even if she can't imagine it ever happening, she wants people to know who she really is, she wants to be seen as the dirty, hopeless, irresponsible Hoshino Ai and accepted as such. She unfailingly believes in the future.

Yuuri, by contrast, is defined by despairing resignation. She cannot affect meaningful change, only hold the line in hopes of maintaining the status quo. She lives in a state of futurelessness, content with occupying an eternal present, chained inescapably to the past. She has no hope. She doesn't always want to continue living. She just doesn't want to die yet. She takes responsibility for everything, hates and blames herself for things completely out of her control because she has no control. The trauma that consumed her life is so unimaginably huge and she is so, so small that even the guilt and self loathing are preferable to surrendering this final scrap of agency to it.

Ai wants people to accept her weakness; Yuuri is too ashamed of it. Ai wants to be seen; Yuuri abhors the idea. Both of them climbed into their own coffins and pulled the lid shut but Ai left hers open just a crack so that anyone who wanted to find her could open it and pull her out. Yuuri nailed hers closed from the inside.

As you can probably guess by my talking about coffins all of a sudden, I am definitely channeling Anthy Himemiya from Revolutionary Girl Utena as well lol. I don't necessarily think that Ai or Yuuri are like Anthy (though Ai does have a teeny bit of Anthy DNA imo), it's more that Anthy is the queen of a character archetype that both Ai and Yuuri fall into that for the purposes of this post I'll call Coffin Girls. I fully expect that to make no sense to anyone who isn't me but this post by @metanarrates about sums it up.

That said, while this post uses gender neutral language, when I talk about Coffin Girls I am very specifically talking about Coffin Girls. What makes a character a Coffin Girl to me is when her struggles are distinctly feminine - not wholly defined by but nevertheless inextricable from her womanhood and her place as a woman in patriarchal societies. Societal and social roles and emotional labor that is considered traditionally "feminine" is weaponized against her as violence. A Coffin Girl must be a Coffin Girl because her abuse and exploration has roots in purity culture, misogyny and hostile masculinity manifesting in violence against her.

All of this is true of Ai but what makes her unique as a Coffin Girl is her determination to not be a Coffin Girl. I want to make it very explicit that this is not victim blaming in any way: it's just that what defines a Coffin Girl is resignation and powerlessness, born from an inability (either literal or emotional) to change her situation. Again, Ai is unique in this regard. No, she can't change the idol industry or the misogyny that perpetuates it but she can affect change in herself. She may be resigned to her current lot in life but she rejects the soul deep helpless despair that defines most Coffin Girls. She has hope - she has left her coffin open. All anyone would need to do is pull her out.

[things-things-bd]

I’m rewatching and rereading bleach and I have a lot of thoughts about the tybw arc.

My thoughts about this arc can be summarised as: “Bleach is a tragedy that forgot it is a tragedy”

To explain, the story of bleach is built upon tragedy. The death of Masaki Kurosaki is the start of Ichigo’s journey. Everything since then, every relationship (with maybe a few exceptions ) ends in tragedy.

@littleeyesofpallas made post that listed some tragic relationships in bleach (link)

Even outside of relationships, every (major) action in the series results in tragedy too. These are the ones I can remember on the top of my head:

Rukia giving her powers to Ichigo leads to her execution

Aizen betrayal leaving the Soul Society in shambles

Orihime going to Hueco Mundo willingly leads to her being branded as a traitor

Ichigo trying to rescue Orihime leads to him dying and losing his humanity

Gin trying to take back what Aizen stole from Rangiku leads to his death. And he wasn’t even able to give her back that piece of her soul or keep his promise to never make her cry

In fact Gin’s actions made Aizen essentially immortal and almost undefeatable. Ichigo has to give up all his power and leave behind all his newfound friends and allies in order to seal Aizen away

This theming of tragedy even continues in the Lost Agent arc. I have my issues with this arc, but I think the way it handles Ichigo losing his powers is great. He’s depressed, desperately tries to regain them and ends up playing right into Ginjo’s hands

In the tybw things take a turn. Not everything ends in tragedy anymore. And the things that do, feel downplayed to an extent that it make me wonder if there was supposed to be any impact from those moments.

I’ll list a few things that should’ve changed or given more of an impact in my opinion:

Byakuya should’ve died.

It would’ve continued this cycle of tragic relationships in bleach. He finally built up a bond with Renji and Rukia and now he’s leaving them behind.

It also could’ve served as a good way to end Renji’s character arc if he was the one to defeat As Nodt

The death of the soul king should have more impact.

We are talking about Ywach killing his father here. Why does it feel so glossed over? Whether you think these characters are blood related or if it’s more metaphorical, it still should have more impact.

In line with that. What’s up with Ukitake’s death?

I have nothing against him dying, but it happened way too quickly and it feels like almost everyone forgets about it a few pages after it happens.

Especially Kyoraku should have more feelings about this. He just lost his father/mentor figure. He had to take on the burden of leading the entire gotei 13. Now he loses his best friend. And what? Nothing?

Ichigo should’ve become the new soul king

He already is basically. He has the powers for it. People already look up to him almost like a god. They already had it completely planned out until it suddenly isn’t necessary anymore? Where did that come from?

This list isn’t complete, but these are the main things that this arc got wrong. Bleach is a tragedy and ending it on a peaceful and hopeful note almost feels like a betrayal of the story itself. Give me that angst Kubo. Give me that agonising feeling of injustice in a way only a true tragedy could.

I guess having the ending completely contradict the story also gives me that agonising feeling a betrayal, but not in the good way.

I don’t really know how to end this. I’ve just been rambling about this. I probably could’ve made a better, more comprehensive post if I wanted to, but I’m tired. Also sorry if this is awkwardly formatted, I typed this on mobile

[dandunn]

If your still taking prompts, how about werewolf Jigen or Zenigata or merman Lupin

Tw: small animal death, blood

The worst part of being a monster isn't the pain and terror of transformation. It isn't the claws and teeth and itchy flea-bitten fur.

It isn't even the constant hunger gnawing like a rat scraping its long teeth against the stomach lining.

It's loneliness.

It's losing what little friends you had.

It's the cold, the rain, the bitter ruffle of cold wind through shaggy black fur. It's the lack of a safe shelter for the night. It's being stuck between here and there, without even the option of a friendly chat with a stranger.

Anyone who glances at you is either fixed in place with terror, or they run. In (thankfully) rare cases they become violent and try to fight you. 

Jigen thought that becoming a wolf meant the usual; changing from man to beast under the full moon every month like clockwork. That once he transformed he would eventually change back into his human skin.

But then he didn't shift back. Either it was permanent or he could change back at will and just didn't know how.

Sometimes he wonders which is worse. At least if it's permanent it means that he'll have to get used to the idea one way or another. But the faint hope that he could be human again…

It's enough to drive an old dog completely insane.

Jigen noses the lid off of a trash can and tips it over, snapping up scraps of whatever looks half-edible. It's putrid, but he's desperate -  can feel his ribs poking through his skin and ragged pelt. And it's the only way he can survive without resorting to killing. 

Even though the hunger never stops and he knows only something the size of a human would be enough to leave him fully sated. Frequently the thought passes through his mind of pulling down one of the sorry SOBs that kick him, scream at him and call the cops (or animal control) on him. If they attacked first he wouldn't even have to feel bad about it. But he can't. After all he was human too, not long ago. Eating a human would be crossing a line he wouldn't be able to come back from. 

Something small moves through the litter and detritus, tiny claws scraping against asphalt.

One movement of Jigen's head and the rat is in his jaws, squeaking a death knell as his teeth bite down on its spine.

Bones crunch and crack. Warm blood and juices drip down Jigen's gums and a purring growl of pleasure hums a vibrato through his chest. It's the best thing he's tasted in days, hot and fresh food…

And it's a fucking dirty rodent.

He spits out the sharp claws and tail, the taste of blood only stirring his hunger further.

How long?

How long is it going to be before it gets too much? Before I give in to it and kill someone? It's not like there's any deer loping by.

The best he can hope for is maybe booking it and making a beeline for the country where there's wild game, and probably meeting his end at the end of a hunter's gun as some kind of trophy. 

That would be a hell of an end, stuffed and mounted on some redneck's wall.

These past few nights though, misery and fear of being seen have kept him hunkered unmoving in the shadows of alleyways and underpasses. That and hunger. It's easier to preserve energy if you don't move.

His belly full of garbage and fresh rat, Jigen turns in a circle and hunkers down in a corner, hoping no curious eyes will look past the trash cans to see the enormous beast curled up there.

…

Then he awakens, ears and nose furiously working together as he senses someone approaching. He can smell cigarettes and cheap alcohol, instant noodles and wet fur. An odd combination of smells. He starts to growl, the sound of an animal who doesn't want to bite but will, given half the chance.

Another wolf stands at the mouth of the alleyway, brown fur and a long bushy tail standing up in the air.

There's… more like me?

Jigen stops growling and the other wolf regards him with a long-lashed golden brown eye. "Come with me." He gruffs, half turning away when he stops again. Jigen isn't exactly raring to follow the stranger.

The other wolf's eyes glance towards the pile of rat entrails on the ground. "There will be better things to eat, I promise."

Whining, Jigen uncurls his cold, battered body and limps off after the other wolf.

(To be continued?)

[shigure]

lb6 pt2 spoilers

losing my mind at how morgan's method of dealing with calamities is to just not bother. to reject dealing with them at all. to send them back in time and make them the tormentors of a version of herself that still gave a shit. the version of herself she'd already severed herself from mentally, and could no longer reach at all. even with the line cut, she still took all her own problems and compulsively punished aesc's hope by making her fix them. saying "it doesn't matter, because i'm here, so even if she gets hurt or fails or dies it doesn't matter." methodical, emotionless self harm. "i'm solving the problem, so it's justified." when aesc never would have made a calamity someone else's problem. morgan became yet another faerie actively choosing to torment aesc. she became her own monster.

and then, by mistake, sending mash instead. mash proving her worth as a guardian not just of the faeries, but going out of her way to protect their land - evacuating the people wasn't enough; mash wanted to protect britain. and by a complete slip of the hand (not in recognition of this act of respect), she gets teleported to the version of morgan who still cares and has enough heart left to openly suffer. that vulnerable version of her that has been punished and disrespected by faerie britain's heartless queen for so long.

and mash answers that vulnerability with compassion and trust. because she's mash! always has been. it would be more surprising if mash didn't go out of her way to help aesc the savior. i mean, she's mash. she becomes the first tam lin. she leaves her future(/past) self a role to live up to, but she also becomes aesc's first trusted warrior. morgan blindly struck out at anything that looked at her funny, and by mistake and against her will, she created her own hero.

of course nothing mash did for aesc could reach the husk that is morgan. the line is severed. the chance to comfort her has passed. but it was assumed that in this battle, mash would be the one best suited to righting fallen aesc's wrongs. maybe even reaching a bit of her heart in the final moments, like killing a zombie version of someone you love and hoping against all odds for a flash of recognition at the end. this is the part of the story where she says she's proud before fading away.

but that's not aesc's story and it never was. she became morgan in a fiery challenge to the story of rejection she was born into. if you'll hurt her without her deserving it, fine! let her deserve it! you'll get your monster. covering her ears, not using her unmatched strength to defeat calamities, never acknowledging her grief or her desperation for self harm even when she has everything she decided was worth pursuing.

and it doesn't feel better. it's not more fun when you deserve that suffering. it's not a relief to have earned their ire for once. she doesn't feel any satisfaction at having been the bad guy. because the people that killed her never did it for justice. because the humans that sought justice could never be permitted to kill aesc, she who is damned by faeries. it would always be on a whim and for the hell of it. she could earn a place for herself in hell a hundred times over, and they would never put her to justice. there is no justice. just ripping her apart for the fun of it. every time.

i'm sure mash is going to have a wonderful time at the coronation. didn't kill morgan. didn't reach aesc. "the most beautiful fairy" aurora congratulating her after having proudly said that aesc killed the first human king. justice was served, right? she's dead! that's justice, isn't it?

i'm guessing without morgan or stor-stor's weight on the world's thumbtack, britain's gonna slough off of cernunnos like dead skin during the coronation. gonna be honest with you. i can't wait!

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Tommy is sick of being sat upon by some nut job avian he barely knows. It’s been days trapped under a Philza who doesn’t really register human words and mostly just coos whenever Tommy tries to cuss him out. Techno says it’s ‘cause Philza thinks he’s been hurt and needs to be protected, which like, yeah, fine sure, but not by Philza. Tommy already has a guardian. His abuser has to be insanely worried about him, especially after Philza assaulted them for no reason. But every time Tommy tries to escape he’s just dragged back and everything gets worse.

At least that part is familiar.

He’s forced to stay in that nest for days, and Tommy has never handled being cooped up well. Some part of him likes the weight of a parent roosting over him and the feeling of gentle hands combing through his wings and hair, but the overwhelming majority of his instincts just wants his abuser back. Techno is of absolutely no help, mostly since Philza keeps trying to murder him. But he sits in the corner and is open to chat, or read a book aloud to him to stave off some of the boredom. Best advice Techno has is that Philza will be normal again if he thinks his chick is safe and happy.

Hell no. Tommy is not feeding this guy’s delusions, especially when Techno reveals Tommy’s own feathers had been woven next to Philza’s in the nest long before Tommy’s abduction. A-grade creep behavior there. Besides, his abuser will come save him soon. Tommy is so acutely aware that he’ll never save himself.

But then it’s been days and he’s losing hope and just wants to go home, so desperately Tommy tries to figure out what Philza will register as a happy chick. Usually chirps just burst out of him, not something he controls at all, but with some struggle he forces out the little trill he made every time his abuser came home.

Something twists in Tommy’s chest as Philza echoes the joyful chirps at him. It feels horribly right, complete whereas with his abuser the greeting was never returned. That wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t an avian. Neither of them had known what was needed to soothe his instincts. 

But it works. Philza blinks rapidly, pupils returning to normal. His gaze locks on Tommy, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.” Philza wraps him in a warm hug. Juuust great. He was hoping to leave after Philza got over it. All he wants is to get back to his abuser, but when he says as much the embrace becomes a vice. Tommy naturally rejects Philza’s awful claims, growing more and more desperate as his abuser is slandered. First the absurd claim he somehow stopped Tommy from flying, like it wasn’t because Tommy was too weak and small to. And then it’s after him for not providing proper shelter at their nest, even though his abuser was trying to teach him to be responsible when he had Tommy make his shack. Then the lack of healing supplies, then the fact he was dying alone when Philza found him.

“No, it’s my fault I tried to fly when he was gone! He was there for me every time I was injured! Shut up, I can too prove it. Hard not to be there when he caused it half the time!”

For some unknowable reason, Philza doesn’t take that well. Neither does Techno, even when Tommy tries to explain they’re misinterpreting what he said, really it was Tommy’s fault, mistakes and the natural punishment for his actions. When he argues it wasn’t bad, Techno brings up the injuries a bit too old to heal when he used the potions. They try to get in his head, voicing all the thoughts in Tommy’s head before he plummeted and proved his abuser right.

Thing is, Tommy has flown before. It’s been awhile, but he has, when he was younger, knew the wondrous taste of its joy. With L’Manburg he’d been careful to fly below the walls so he didn’t get shot down. And it wasn’t possible in Pogtopia. And then after…it just seemed pointless. And now he can’t at all, and the only reason he can find is because he doesn’t deserve that joy.

Unless it was taken from him. Just like everything else, Tommy finally admits. Wearing an avian’s feathers is meant to be a promise to support them as surely as their own wings, and yet his abuser clipped his. 

It’s hard, realizing he was only ever so weak because the man he trusted was sabotaging him the whole time. Twisting his instincts, forcing him to become a useless hatchling. Manipulating him so he could never fly to safety.

Tommy begins to sob.

Next>

[belit0]

Unbreakable Bond - (part 3)

Finally, two more Uchihas have joined the cast! Still not revealing who "the Leader" is, but I assume you can guess...🙌🏻💫

Madara notices how time flies, and realizes something is wrong. Waiting in the usual location, the demon sits on top of the barn roof, staring into the distance and hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother's wings. His red and black yukata rests on his shoulders, tied loosely around his waist to maintain his privacy, while his long black hair flutters in the wind.

Their meeting point is remote, the one they all use when their mission comes to an end and it's time to go back. An abandoned building in the middle of the countryside, miles away from any city, far from any angel who might detect them, near the portal leading them home.

The building is in ruins, a piece of junk in the middle of nowhere that has been forgotten by civilization. Demons were always ordered to use it as a meeting point, reuniting with their respective brother after twenty years. Izuna and Madara had never had a problem, following the tight schedule provided by the Leader when departing in search of a new human and arriving extremely punctual at the meeting place.

Leaving at the same time, both demons would always go through the twenty years of the mission simultaneously, for then return together. They keep an inside challenge between the two, always betting on who would convert their human sooner to get to the barn first.

Izuna would usually win, being ruthless with the conversions he performs and not waiting for his human to even begin transmuting. Madara preferred to take things slow, and not rush. Flying with a semi-transformed person is genuinely tedious, as they move and try to stop the terrible event they are subjected to. He has dealt with people fighting and kicking with all their might, trying to free themselves from his clutches and begging for mercy.

Some take longer to become a monster, others less.

He didn't understand how his brother would prefer to go through that just to win their stupid challenge, but he always came up with funny stories about how the human would slip out of his claws and hinder his flight.

This time, things are different. Always desperate and punctual, Izuna is nowhere to be seen.

Madara estimates about two hours since his own arrival, and his half-transformed human is already almost completely monstrophied. He is missing his claws and fully losing consciousness, which will take approximately a few minutes. There is not much time.

The Leader demands tight schedules and efficiency when it comes to getting the job done, he does not admit mistakes or tardiness. Everyone has been trained for millennia to function mechanically and perfectly, no one can get out of line, no one can fail. The consequences are terrifying.

His human screams in pain from inside the barn, trying to beg for mercy, but forgetting how to utter words. His eyes turned totally black, hair grew all over his body, and he has two bat wings sprouting from his back. The transformation is always disgusting, but that's exactly how the Leader wants them, and Madara refuses to have an opinion on it.

The sun sets quickly, and the demon knows he can wait no longer.

If neither of them returns soon, the Leader will notice something is wrong, and that's where trouble begins.

Madara descends from the barn roof with a leap and hears the dry grass crunching under his sandals. He has an empty sensation in his chest, a bad foreboding, as he makes his way to where the newly transformed monster is. His head wrestles with terrible possibilities, and he doesn't know how he will explain his brother's absence upon returning.

He enters through the destroyed building door and goes to the place where he chained the human boy. He was a good guy, and never caused a problem. He still remembers how excited the boy was to finally meet his angel, and how he screamed and cried when he finally saw him face to face. He fought with all his might, but there was no way to defeat the demon.

Madara couldn't feel a bit of empathy for him. In truth, he couldn't feel anything.

He looks down at him from his massive height, the boy lying on the ground and reduced to his new aspect. Transformation is complete. Where once there was a young human, there now remains only a beast with no consciousness or thoughts, full of black hair and grotesque wings beating against the walls. Izuna always described them as "little bats," with black eyes and sharp claws.

The Leader seeks to create an army of mindless creatures, weapons to use in his war, beasts loyal to his cause and aid his wrath. For years, the demons were instructed to hunt humans, infiltrate the angelic system to destroy people, and turn them into... this.

The creature slams itself against the floor and walls, desperate to go out and kill, without a glimmer of sanity on its head and unfocused eyes. The boy Madara watched grow up had vanished completely, and he wondered how long it would take for his family to notice his absence. There is a chain around his neck restraining him like a rabid animal, the only thing preventing his escape, and saliva oozing from between his new fangs.

Madara unhooks the end connected to the wall and forces the beast to move as if it were a dog being walked by its owner. It is always difficult to fly with a newly converted creature, but the journey is not long. The Leader chose a location near the abandoned building to open a portal and connect the two realms, far away from all humans, hidden from any snooping angels.

As he leaves the barn, he gazes into the distance of the starry sky, still holding out a small hope for his brother to appear. Izuna's absence only signals trouble, and a part of him can't help but wonder what's going on. Did he cross paths with an angel, got detected, and taken captive? No, there was no way such a thing could happen, not with the Leader's magic acting to hide the presence of his demons.

Something is wrong, and this will be a problem for them both.

The demon decides to take flight after a few seconds of waiting, abandoning any chance of meeting his brother. His black wings, mixed with some blood-red feathers, continue folded against his back, kept so as not to rise prematurely. Their end is dragging on the ground, counting with such an enormous length it is impossible to keep his last feathers away from the dirt.

Madara was one of the Leader's finest works, one of the two first demons he ever created, and was a work to be admired.

He decided to run for momentum, pulling the creature's chain and forcing it to move at the same overwhelming speed as he did. He found it was a good way to teach the beast to use its legs, learning that came after transforming so many humans in his long time of life. The monster does what it can on his back, using paws and feet to keep moving, its wings beginning to move awkwardly.

The demon knows it takes them a while to adjust to their new body, but instinct guides them through most of the process. He looks behind him and relaxes when noticing the creature figure out how to move properly, deciding it's time to take altitude.

His wings, with a wonderful mix of dark shades and crimson reds, spread gracefully and with an intimidating length, taking up about two meters each. The shadow they cast on the ground beneath his feet could be matched if two cars were placed one behind the other, a terrifying size.

Madara takes off from the earth smoothly, with familiar and internalized movements he executes even with his eyes closed. Behind him, the creature mimics his actions, rising awkwardly into the air and following in his wake. One flap of the experienced demon's wings was equivalent to ten of the newly converted monster.

After minutes of flying at an impossible speed, he managed to spot the portal, and making a hand seal, he passed through the small opening hidden in the middle of the sky. No one could see it, undetectable to those who did not have those red eyes the Leader bestowed upon them at birth. Safe from prying angels, and idiot humans.

The demon glides gracefully down the entrance leading to his home, with the creature following behind.

He still does not know how to explain his brother's absence, what he can say to justify him and buy time, to go find him. He begs for the Leader not to be near, confined to his palace and not waiting for their arrival. Whatever is happening with Izuna is something he will also have to deal with, refusing to abandon his brother in the human realm.

He finally visualizes his home in the distance, houses of the village built by the Leader appearing on the horizon, and after three flaps of his wings, Madara calculates his landing with precision. There is a demon awaiting his arrival, ready to greet him.

Descending gracefully, he connects his feet with the ground in a relaxed manner. Behind him, the monster collides with the earth awkwardly, trying to stay on its paws and failing in the attempt.

"Where is your brother?" The first thing the other demon asks him. He’s much younger, and has a puzzled frown on his face. Beautiful black wings with glimpses of violet feathers lie folded against his back, smaller and less intimidating than Madara's.

"Sasuke… always warm welcomes from you. Where's yours?" He brushes past him, ignoring the younger one’s question, and walks towards the enclosure where the creatures are stored. He drags the creature by the chain around its neck, and making a previous hand seal, opens one of the largest buildings in the compound.

It simulates a huge storage unit, extremely deep, where Madara releases the monster from the chain and coldly throws it to join the millions of others at the bottom. Hungry and unconscious, they produce guttural and grotesque sounds, locked in confinement until the Leader decides he needs them.

"Finishing up details with the Leader, we're next." Sasuke follows close behind, casually looking at the bottom of the pit and all the horrible enclosed monsters in there. They both exit the building, as Madara closes the door using a specific hand seal.

"I assume Shisui and Obito aren't here yet?" The older demon wipes his hands and walks to the residence belonging to him and his brother, their private home. His companion follows close behind, "No, they still have about three months left. Where's Izuna, Madara?"

Sasuke has always been one of the most perceptive, able to detect lies and evasions as easily as if he were trying to kill a human. He knows something odd is going on, with all demons leaving and returning in pairs of two. Izuna not being back means trouble, and trouble is not to the Leader's liking.

"That's what I intend to find out."