#why are we scared of them and want to kill them just because they exist

[sleepinginmygrave]

nothing makes me sadder than thinking about spiders

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[kindheartedgummybears]

you wanna know what??

I am

TIRED

of overmasculinized werewolves!!!!

I WANNA SEE A

WEREWOLF

WALKING AROUND IN A CVNTY LITTLE OUTFIT!!! WALKING THE STREETS!!!! DISEMBOWELING CREATURES!!!!

I WANNA SEE WEREWOLVES COVERED IN BLOOD AND GORE WHILE WEARING A SHORT SKIRT AND CROPTOP WITH HELLO KITTY ON IT!!!!

I WANNA SEE A WEREWOLF WALKING AROUND IN COTTAGE AND FAIRY AND PRINCESS CORE OUTFITS!!!!!! WITH A DEAD MANGLED RABBIT IN ITS MOUTH!!!!

AND MAKE THE WEREWOLF

D I S G U S T I N G ! ! !

[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[emmyrosee]

Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”

[bbwcasey]

It feels strange and vulnerable to write something this personal here, but maybe that's why I’m doing it. Maybe because I feel like you all are the only ones who might truly understand the storm inside me—the anger and sadness that’s just really hard to put into words.

I've briefly mentioned my aunt before. She was my rock when my dad was deployed and my mom was working long hours. During that part of my childhood, she was the one who raised me. At her heaviest, she weighed over 700 pounds, almost 800. Over the years, I’ve been careful not to share too many details about her, because sadly, some of you struggle to respect the clear boundaries that should exist here.

She died on Monday. And she died in a way no one should ever have to. My heart is absolutely shattered.

She had been living in a bariatric care facility for over a decade—bed-bound, very limited mobility. For as long as I can remember, that was her reality. I watched it unfold slowly, starting in high school when she lost the ability to walk, when taking care of her became a shared effort between me, my mom, and my Yiayia. We loved her, we cared for her the best we could. But, as time passed, her needs became too great, and she was moved into the care of professionals. At least, that's what we thought.

But the facility failed her. They failed her in the most basic of ways. She needed a 4-person assist just to be bathed, just to go to the bathroom—and that wasn’t always available. Sometimes it was because of understaffing. Sometimes it was pure negligence. And that neglect led to infections. One of them turned into necrotizing fasciitis—a flesh-eating bacteria. That’s what killed her. That’s how she died. Suddenly. Painfully. Needlessly.

I am furious. And I am heartbroken.

It messes with my head in ways I can’t even explain. I’ve spent so much of my life obsessed with the idea of being that big, fantasizing about being absolutely massive, and now, here I am, mourning my aunt who lived that reality. I don’t know if she ever felt the way I feel about it. I don’t know if the things I think about were part of her experience. Honestly, I don’t want to know. Don’t make this weird. It’s not about that.

But I do know she was involved in NAAFA, long before I was even born—back when the lines between what we now call body positivity and fat acceptance were just starting to be drawn. So, there’s this overlap, this strange connection that I can’t quite reconcile in my head. I’m not scared by what happened to her, but I am devastated by it. I don’t want this for anyone, and it’s hard to see the reality of what we talk about here through this lens. It’s hard to hold space for all of it.

I don’t know how to wrap this up neatly because there’s nothing neat about this. I’m grieving. I’m angry. I’m confused. But mostly, I’m just sad. Sad for her. Sad for me. Sad for a world that lets people like her slip through the cracks because they were deemed too much—too much to care for, too much to handle, too much to love.

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t too much. She was just enough. She was everything. And I miss her.

I hate that I feel the need to add this disclaimer, but before anyone starts chirping and taking things out of context—no, this doesn’t change anything for me, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here, still the same weirdo who loves being fat and getting fatter. It’s just… complicated. I’m sad. It’s sad. That’s all.

[sugar-grigri]

Pochita, if you can read, why don't you speak ?

Wouldn't it be humane to protect humanity and demonic to protect the underworld? And what if... it was actually the other way around.

The interweaving of questions and answers is exactly what this chapter does.

While Yoru sordidly states that children are nothing more than the property of their parents, the one who can't speak, instead of devouring a human as he did with all those demons, decides to go to the blood drive.

Pochita understood what the sign meant. He knows how to talk. But he'd rather hold up that sign and roar than make any demands.

Worse still, he does not decide to give any orders.

It's not words that symbolise order, it's that raised index finger that already in Roman times expressed command.

In the United States, arms are a constitutional right (as recently reiterated by the Supreme Court, which does not admit of any restrictions), a fundamental freedom but also a means of preserving one's freedom, allowing organised militias to fight and protect the State.

You can see how it's all a construction, the weapons are a technological creation, the State is an administrative and political creation.

And that's where things get interesting. First of all, this chapter is highly symbolic and has a very strong political message (oh my god, political interpretation in a manga, impossible..........)

Yoru has sliced off the index fingers of those who support the right to bear arms in the United States. Or campaign for that freedom. But what Yoru is doing. In fact, it's taking it away from them. How can I shoot without this index finger? You can't do it.

It's by taking weapons away from men that they actually regain their freedom.

But it goes even further than that. Why does Yoru sacrifice these fingers? Because it reinforces the fear of weapons. Let's say I point a gun at you (sorry). You'd be less scared if you were as armed as I am. Especially when you're trained, know how to defend yourself and aren't afraid to shoot.

Yoru makes those who thought they were invincible with weapons vulnerable. She strengthens the Gun Devil's power. She contracts with them through her sacrificed child.

Weapons,

freedom,

deprivation of childhood,

of loved ones,

obsession with a mentor,

To think that a god created them.

Remind you of anyone?

Infanticide is what makes you immortal.

The sacrificed demons become weapons, lost between humanity and the demons. Not being human, nor demon, because they have no parents. Even artificial weapons like Reze and Katana display these characteristics. Isn't loneliness one of the ingredients?

Humanity sacrifices its children. As Fujimoto confirmed, they were prepared to do it for eternal youth.

And now you're going to say to me. NOOOO! Yoru too! Just as Makima wouldn't hesitate to do. The demons are also ready to do it.

Yes, because they are influenced by men.

Yoru speaks, uniting with humanity to say horrible things. Whereas Pochita doesn't speak. Worse still, he has chosen not to speak. Worst of the worst, even worse. He'd rather be a dog than a human. That's his choice.

Pochita fights for those he loves, he doesn't sacrifice them.

The demon of birth, it swallows but can spit out. Suspending existence, giving it new life, denying none of it.

Wasn't Makima devoured by Denji proof of this?

Nayuta is the symbol of this rebirth. A perpetual love that surpasses hate.

Pochita loves demons. He also loves those who mean something to him, like Denji. But he also knows that when we become too human, we can end up sacrificing ourselves out of vanity rather than love.

Pochita has sacrificed himself for love, without expecting anything in return as he waits permanently for Denji's dreams.

He is also Denji's lock, preventing him from fully adapting to men.

That's why killing Black CSM was Denji's wish come true. Because Pochita is preventing Denji from becoming normal.

Because he wants to protect him from humanity. Pochita has never been for humanity.

He is simply the guardian of the underworld, all those demons whose existence he guards, a supreme mother. Humanity must endure in order to continue to be afraid. But if humanity is prepared to overcome the ultimate fear of losing its child, then fear is scorned.

So Pochita tried to wipe out the weapons' existence, to devour them. But they still existed. Why? Because they are already the result of infanticide.

being devoured by the demon of birth, mother of the underworld, actually reinforces their existence.

Being devoured by their mother is the reason for their nature.

Whereas weapons are beings born because their mother has killed them.

Denji is the result of the death of the Supreme Mother.

It's not a weapon.

He's a wall.

Hero of the underworld.

A hero of the underworld who has been fighting from the start for the victory of love, sacrificing himself for those he loves and not sacrificing them. So he asks for blood.

And I'm sorry. If weapons really are born like that, they have to look human, and I think this is the last possessed human.

Someone's been ringing the doorbell.....for 100 chapters… it's time to answer it, isn't it?

[blueywrites]

obsessed

I know we agree that Eddie would be obsessed with his girl. But I also think, even more than that - he would want his girl to be obsessed with him.

Like, after the initial 'wah I dunno what I'm doing' part of becoming a boyfriend for the first time, of course, because I do think Eddie would be both awkwardly though endearingly inexperienced, and also kinda scared of his feelings finally being reciprocated because now there's actual risk involved. But once he's past that, I think as much as he is just all about you - wanting to be around you, hold you, kiss you, fuck you, sleep with you, just exist beside you - he is even more excited at the prospect that you're all about him.

He wants to catch you looking at him and see it written all over your face, your expression all gooey and gross and totally fucking gone. It wouldn't make sense to him, because, yeah, you do that when he's screaming his lungs out on stage at The Hideout, fingers nearly cramping with his hard he's playing and, before the performance is even half-done, he knows they fuckin' killed it. That makes sense to him But you also look at him like that even when he's doing asinine shit, like picking off his nail polish and balancing the flakes in a pile on his hairy knee, or perching hunchbacked on a chair, muttering to himself as he drafts the next dungeon crawl for Hellfire. You see him at his best and his worst and his weirdest, and you seem to only wanna be closer to him. It's the same he feels about you, but at least with you it makes sense, 'cause you're you. It beats the shit outta Eddie why you're obsessed with him, but he's seen it enough to accept it now.

He starts feeling all warm inside his chest whenever he remembers just how obsessed you are with him. And so then he starts to do whatever it takes to encourage you in that.

Some guys think their girl's too needy? Hell fuckin' nah. Not Ed. You keep pulling him back in for snuggles and kisses and pouty "I'll miss you baby"s when he's been trying to leave the last twenty minutes, and he's just burying his grin in your hair, lapping up every word like a greedy bastard. He doesn't give a shit that he's gonna be late and get an earful from Gareth when you're filling up his chest with ooey gooey warmth like this. Space? Never heard of her. It could be hot as the devil's asscrack in July and he'd let you paste yourself to him. Damn the sweaty skin, the baby hairs tickling his chin, the elbow in his rib. Climb inside his favorite hoodie with him; stretch it all the way out. Make him a permanent one-handed driver by stealing his palm so you can play with his rings and just touch his skin, as if it alleviates some kind of ache in you.

And you best believe that man is determined to delight you. It doesn't matter how much or little experience he's had with other people before; Eddie wants to know how to make you fall apart. He studies your body - spends days between your legs with his mouth and his fingers and his cock, learning exactly what to touch and with what pressure and rhythm. Learning when to ease up and when to press on. Learning what your sounds and your faces and your motions mean. Learning all of you until he can have you coming on his cock in less than five minutes, and on his tongue in less than three, if you happen to be pressed for time. And if you're not pressed for time... Well. Eddie makes sure that each time he gets to really savor you, your obsession with him just grows that much deeper. Once you're coherent and no longer cock-drunk, at least.

Eddie isn't just determined to delight you in the bedroom, either. He'd keep it going all the time, his efforts to ensure you're totally gone on him - buy you cheap things like fake tattoos and ring pops from the 25-cent machines, steal you flowers cut from the yards he passes when he's selling in Loch Nora, leave you little love-heart doodles in your locker and loiter around the corner, waiting for you to find them, just so he can grab you up from behind and gasp against your neck, "Are those from a secret admirer?! Are you cheating on me?!" And as you squeal and giggle and deny it profusely, that warmth returns.

Because Eddie doesn't ever need to wonder about you. For the first time in his life, someone has finally looked at him and said, "Yeah, that freak right there. I'm obsessed with him." And there's no way in hell he's gonna take that for granted.

[furiousgoldfish]

I don't get why there are no resources for healthy expressions of anger. Are we as a society fundamentally opposed to people feeling anger? Are we afraid that if people get angry they're going to cause destruction so as an alternative we want anger to just not exist? Anger will go somewhere regardless of whether we want it to exist or not, and if a person who has good reasons to be angry, is not allowed to feel angry, they'll get eaten by self hatred and depression because that's what internalizing anger does.

It's also interesting that when abusers and people in power are angry, they can pretty much do whatever they like. Say no to them, they're having crazy revenges, they're tearing apart your stuff, they're starting wars, they're telling you how they're going to kill you in detail, no self restraint, no consequences, nothing. Anger is theirs to do as they please with and in response the society is just, too scared to do anything, so they assume that this specific anger is 'justified' and 'cannot be helped'. However when victims of something are angry, then they're labelled as 'unreasonable' and 'dangerous' and 'unable to move on from things'. Their anger is a problem that needs to be squashed, erased, there's apparently no justifications for these people to be angry, nothing that is reasonable or okay for them to do about it, they just get demonized and shamed for having a completely rational response to injustice.

Is that it then? Those who are able to act out on their anger, get justifications and obedience, but those who are helpless but angry for very good reasons, are just to be suffocated? Anger is allowed only for some parts of human society and it's the most violent, destructive and dangerous part of it too? Where is this getting us? Is the amount of injustice ever going to decrease if we defend injustice, and fight for it to keep going on?

If I look up ways to express anger, I get stuff like 'anger management steps', and 'letting go and moving on from anger', like excuse me. I didn't even get to express 1% of my anger and I need anger management? I have never had problems with controlling my anger, the struggle is to get it out at all! To integrate it into my personality, to hold people accountable without having to think about it, to show resistance when I'm being stepped on! What anger management? Why am I pushed to move away from anger, I haven't even arrived to anger!

Why is it assumed that every person who struggles with expressing anger is a maniac breaking things, enacting revenges, trying to injure or murder people, lashing out and doing harm to everyone around themselves. I can guess why. Because all of the resources are created for people who are letting their anger run wild without a cap and who use anger to get their way. The world is adjusted for people who are allowed to be angry, who were never pushed to the point where getting angry meant loss of survival, where expressions of anger would lead to torture. I am apparently not even considered to exist. I'm either a maniac or not a target audience for anger resources.

If someone's been traumatized out of being able to feel angry, people don't think it's worth having this person angry. It's very obvious this person has giant reasons for anger, so if we let them feel it, they could become 'dangerous', or 'just like their abuser'. You know, being angry at the abuser does not make anyone like the abuser, it makes them Normal. Rational. Having Self Worth. Human. Logical. Reasonable. Engaging in everyone's best fucking interest because you know that abuser is going wreck havoc forever and if nobody is even angry at them, it's giving them an even easier time. Anger is scary when it's in hands of abusers, in the hands of victims it is liberating, just, it puts things into perspective and back where they belong.

Now give me the fucking resources to get angry. I'm sick and tired of hating myself.

[saphronethaleph]

Filing a P-90

“Young man, a few moments of your time?”

CT-0102 looked up, confused.

“...how so?” the trooper asked. “You’re, uh, if you want to talk, you can just talk. If you have orders, go ahead and give them. Ma’am.”

“I’d rather not force you to discuss something,” the elderly woman said, by way of explanation. “I was wondering if you had a perspective on… weapons.”

“Weapons,” 102 repeated. “I guess… I’ve been trained with them? Using weapons is my job, I mean? Does that count as an opinion?”

“It might,” the old woman said. “But I meant more the philosophy of why a weapon exists.”

She shrugged, one hand resting for a moment on a long box by her side. “And, in particular, whether a weapon’s design tells us something about what it’s meant for.”

“This is getting dangerously philosophical, ma’am,” 102 admitted. “It’s above my pay grade.”

“It’s not above mine, I think,” the woman told him. “If you don’t want to talk, say so. I give you that permission, if you need it. But what I mean is that, for example… a lightsaber is a Jedi’s weapon, and that means that it’s a weapon of defence and of decisive attack. A lightsaber in trained hands is able to both protect others and to bring a quick end to any fight, and the respect it earns from those who see it can prevent a fight in the first place… a blaster, meanwhile, well, it depends on the blaster, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose that’s true, ma’am,” 102 admitted, glancing up for a moment as the turbulence around the ship increased – for a moment, at least.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he just shrugged.

“A small pistol is intended to be concealed,” the woman went on. “It’s a weapon of self defence, but it’s also a weapon for committing an unexpected crime. While a larger, more powerful pistol, that’s a weapon of intimidation. It’s bulky enough to be difficult to conceal, and it’s less accurate than a long weapon, so it’s for both scare tactics and bringing a battle to a quick end. So does that mean it’s like a lightsaber?”

102 considered that.

“Our training covered how to handle most weapons, but it didn’t really address the cultural side of things,” he admitted. “We mostly focused on weapons for once a fight is inevitable.”

“Quite,” the woman agreed – 102 hadn’t actually got her name at any point. “The long rifle, which is designed for military efficiency on a battlefield. Harder to conceal in civilian life, almost impossible in fact, but it’s more effective than most weapons on a battlefield… at least, until you start dealing with either larger targets that they simply can’t damage, or more confined spaces where you want a shorter weapon. They share the attribute of being practical.”

She looked at his eyes, through the helmet. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“I guess,” 102 said, not really sure how to react. “Why do you say that?”

The woman was silent for several seconds, and as she was CT-0102 heard over the battalion push that they were getting close to their deployment point.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer this gunship to take up an overwatch position,” the woman said. “I do apologize, I should have mentioned it sooner.”

She pulled the box over to her, and undid the latches, then paused before opening it.

“What about this description of a weapon?” she asked. “A weapon that is designed for killing?”

102 blinked.

“Aren’t… most weapons designed for killing?” he asked. “That’s why they’re weapons.”

“Not at all,” the woman replied. “As we’ve just discussed. Your rifle is designed for practical battlefield use. Weight, length, shot count, rate of fire, all these considerations went into making it. Many other weapons are shaped by different design constraints entirely – a hold-out pistol, or a large heavy blaster. A lightsaber. I’m talking about a weapon that isn’t designed for a fight at all. That isn’t designed to be seen. That’s meant to be used as sparingly as possible, because you’re only meant to use it in the very direst need.”

She pushed open the box, and revealed a kind of long weapon, perhaps a blaster and perhaps not. It looked archaic, with some of the furniture made of actual wood and the rest out of something 102 couldn’t even identify, and there were odd protuberances and glowing blue segments on it.

“For such a weapon, all other considerations would be secondary to lethality,” the woman said. “If they were involved at all. It’s not intended to be involved in a battle, where you try to defeat the enemy; it’s not intended for a warning shot. The only purpose is to kill, and it is only to be used when there is no better choice.”

She knelt down on the floor of their gunship, and a few seconds later the Commander called out the launch order. Their assault ship was passing over the target zone, and all the gunships deployed.

Below, 102 could see the desert, and the darting red shapes of Aethersprite starfighters giving them cover against Geonosian fighter craft. More gunships were deploying, blasts going left and right, and 102 grabbed onto the handles overhead with a free hand for stability.

The woman didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she took something from her belt, and slotted it into the weapon. It lit up, and she tapped a few controls before snugging the stock of the weapon into her shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you know,” she said, almost conversationally. “He was a great friend of mine, once. I thought he still was, until recently.”

“Who was?” 102 asked.

“Dooku,” the woman answered, her voice slightly distracted. “Emotion, yet peace… my old friend, I do not do this for revenge, but to prevent a greater wrong.”

The strange weapon spat out a bolt of brilliant sky-blue light, one that was like a solid bar connecting their gunship to the ground, and the woman hesitated for a moment… then let out a sigh.

“May you find the peace in death that so failed you in life,” she said, in tones of quiet prayer.

“Sorry, but – did you just…” 102 asked.

“What the kriff was that?” the gunship pilot asked, over the comm connection.

“Well, you can view it in two ways,” the Jedi Master said, ejecting her lightsaber from the rifle and examining it. “No, three, I think. Firstly, that my lightsaber and I were united in the need for that to be done. Secondly, that Count Dooku was too great a threat to peace in the galaxy to live. And third…”

Jocasta Nu placed the rifle back in its box.

“Nobody messes with the Jedi Archives,” she concluded.

[kryannoy]

Hey, can we have a Yan!Andrew Graves with Reader?

genre: sfw, headcanons + fic

characters: yandere!andrew graves x reader

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive andrew

a/n: i don't normally write yandere characters so this was a bit of a challenge. hope this suits your request and enjoyed reading!

He's so obsessed with you but he's subtle with it—more like whatever stupid thing he does, he'll make sure you don't see it.

When he loves you, he'll make sure to keep you happy just so you will always come to him whenever something happens. He'll open a bottle cap for you without being told, he'll wipe your mouth with his fingers if it's messy—totally not putting them in his mouth afterwards. He'll open the door for you, let you cry on his shoulder, gives you hugs when you need it. Every subtle thing to manipulate you into coming back to him when you need support.

If someone talks to you, he'll be right behind you with arms wrapped around your waist while glaring daggers at the other person.

"No, no. Continue. Don't mind me, pretend that I don't exist."

To you, his tone sounds normal but to the poor guy, it's like a cleaver skinning them alive.

If someone even looks at you without you knowing, it's gonna be hell for them. He somehow won't be afraid to kidnap that person, tie them up and threaten them with Andrew's favorite cleaver until the person is diagnosed with PTSD.

He will shamelessly go back to you with a smile on his handsome face as if nothing happened.

Andrew would kill anyone for you but if you tell him not to, he won't.

Although, he knows you would be scared if you saw him murdering people, he won't do it anyways. The last thing he wants is you running away from him.

You have no idea why people start to turn their backs on you and you would think that you've done something wrong. So, you ask Andrew for advice or if he knows anything, exactly what he planned for.

And he would smile innocently from his success and spread out his arms. You would dive into his comfy sweater without knowing the hands that are holding you are the hands that have done so many questionable and criminal acts.

"C'mere you. Aw, you poor thing! I'm sure no one hates you. Who would? They're probably out of social energy from a rough day or something. Don't you worry!"

He'll kiss your forehead, then your nose, and lastly, your lips. You would smile and he would smile into the kiss while thinking how naive you are.

He admits sometimes that he feels guilty for deceiving you but what can he do? How could he come up to you and admit to all the crimes he's done? You wouldn't look at him the same anymore, would you? Would you still love him despite knowing what he did or what he ate? He wouldn't take any risks. If he has the person he loves the most in his arms, why would he easily throw you away?

If the truth hasn't been told, he'll keep you for himself. He'll keep you forever.

You knew he acted differently than normal people. He's a little different because of his upbringing, and that's normal for kids with neglected parents growing up with a weird habit of theirs and that was just his charm, right?

Because you think it was just a charm of his, you didn't run when you had the chance to. Besides, if he was so sweet to you, so kind to you, so good to you, he wouldn't hurt you, would he?

There's a reunion dinner later tonight with your old high school mates and of course you're coming. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. You've already informed Andrew of this and for the past week he was okay with it, but why is his tone now sounded . . . different?

"You're going?" He asked from the couch. One of his legs propped up on the other and an arm over the couch. His green eyes look up and down at your fit that he knows you chose the best from your closet. You're going to meet some nobodies with that outfit? You didn't even wear something so pretty when he's around! Not that you aren't pretty. It's just you put a tiny bit less effort when going out or being with Andrew.

"I've already told you, haven't I?" You're putting on your shoes at the front door and you hear some shuffling. Your hand is at the doorknob now. "I'll be back before ten. I prom—"

The door slams shut again before you could even open a crack. You can feel him behind you. His hands on the door, caging you between him and the solid wood.

"You are not going." His voice is low, almost threatening.

You turn around to face. You do not want to have this conversation right now. You're going to be late, that is if you find a way to stir this around to go your way.

"Andrew, this is unfair. Last week, you told me I can go so why are you backing out now? Tonight of all days!"

It wasn't his intention to upset you nor ruin your night but why are they taking you away from him?

"Why are you still excited about going? Don't you remember what they've done to you? They isolated you . . . remember?"

They isolated you. Yeah, right. He was the reason behind it anyways, but poor you who loves him too never suspected your own boyfriend was the culprit.

"They . . . didn't. You said they didn't have the energy to talk," your voice was almost a whisper. You weren't even confident of your own answer. You're starting to reminisce about the old days at school. Sure, they didn't talk to you anymore, but the reunion dinner is going to be different, right?

His hand moves down to lock the door but his actions made you take a step back, hitting the door. You forgot you're kind of trapped right now with no way out unless reasoning with him first.

"You don't really have to go . . ." The same hand moves up to your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear ever so gently it's almost . . . unnervingly creepy. "Do you?"

His eyebrow raised in question.

Your heart is starting to pick up its pace. Your fingertips are running cold. You don't understand yourself why you're so nervous in front of him. I mean, you had been nervous around him but this is a different kind of nervous. It's fear. Fear of him. However, he never hurt you yet. He never raised his voice to you. He's always been nice and sweet to you. But you really can't help this weird feeling.

So you slowly tell him how you feel.

"You're scaring me."

And there it is. It hit something in him. It's the last thing he wants, but the first thing to make you listen to him.

You can see his facial expression changes from demanding to guilt.

"Love, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me!" His caging arms now freeing you while backing away a bit, most likely a tactic to show you he's innocent. "I'm just saying, wouldn't you be left out at dinner? I don't want my pretty girl coming home sad and disappointed when the past week you've been so excited about this dinner."

Andrew takes your silence to continue. "Stay here. With me."

You really want to insist on going yet you don't want to risk starting a fight. But it's unfair! You always let him win you over, now he needs to listen and let you go. Maybe a small chance could probably lead to a huge success.

"But please!" You drag the word longer, hoping he'll give in. "I haven't seen my friends for I don't how many years. It's just this once."

You seem energetic again. He takes this chance to step closer, a hand on the side of your face. His thumb brushes along your glossed lips you put on earlier, smudging it. His gaze move up from your lips to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling, but no means no." He said it so softly before he kissed you longingly. You somehow melt into him despite your disagreement. He's really not losing—like always.

He broke off the kiss to continue persuading you to stay. "I'm doing this for your own good. Sometimes you're too naive to be staying around them. You're too nice. I've seen it. And it hurts to watch you being used and throw you away."

You exhale a deep breath from the stress. Maybe Andrew's right. Maybe you are too naive to realize. They asked you for homework and notes, but then one day, they stopped talking to you. Maybe they really did see no use in you they've fulfilled their satisfaction.

But Andrew . . . Andrew never stopped talking to you. Andrew never threw you away. Andrew was always there through it all. Andrew never left you by yourself.

Like right now.

"Okay," you spoke softly, like a whisper, before nodding your head. "I'll stay in with you."

Good thing you were looking at the ground because now, Andrew can't hide the big smile on his face. He successfully manages to keep you by his side. His heart beats rapidly from the excitement, his skin was buzzing. He can be with you tonight. He can stay with you. Just the two of you!

He pulls you in his arms and strokes your hair. "That's my good girl. Always so obedient." He kisses the crown of your head before leading you to your bedroom so you can change to a more comfortable clothes.

He dreams of having you by his side forever but he doesn't want to go to extreme measures such as locking you in or tying you up. Maybe not just yet. Since you're so good to him and love him too, you deserve to roam around freely until you start to disobey.

He wouldn't want to do it but tonight, he was close to doing so just from how persistent you were.

[beartitled]

ur au inspired me alot so have this writings I made based off of ur evil cipher parents au...

Bill cipher was SUPPOSED to be a normal Euclidean. A normal triangle. Despite his color not being right and he was practically blind in his 2d world.

All he knew about his parents was that his mom was a lovely deep blue, and his father was a wonderous shade of red.

And he was okay with that.

Atleast he could stare at the stars as his mother's voice lulled him to sleep.

.. he swore he saw a group of stars moving… It looked weird, it was a line with a dip down at the back end, and what looked like a trapezoid(he believes that's what trapezoids look like, it was hard to see anyone else in the first place) on the front end.. it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

"Ma.. Some stars are moving…" Billy said, his voice a soft mumble.

"Billy, there's nothing there moving… I promise.." Billy's mom said, her voice silky smooth.

Billy hummed in reply, just watching the bundle of stars move in such an odd way.. then there was one that looked like one of the star shaped people he's somewhat seen, but it had a trail coming from the back. The two bundles paused, as if they were staring at him.

It was.. unnerving.

"Ma..?" Billy called quietly. There wasn't any reply. Mom must've left already.

Billy didn't want to bother her. So he just watched the two bundle of stars.. Until they got closer. They weren't stars.

They looks so weird.

He was scared- it was so scary- he suddenly wanted to be normal- to have an eye where it's supposed to be-

One of the giant things reached down and carefully scooped him up-- Billy gasped loudly as he was lifted up-- he could see so much MORE. He could see the two giant things he originally thought were stars.

They were.. 3D. He had thought no such things could exist!.

But if they were here, why did they pick him-- Was it because he could see them?

Billy whined softly, Glancing around nervously for some sort of escape. But there was none.

"Billy?" He heard his mom say, "Billyy? Where are you?"

Billy Desperately wanted to tell his mom he was still here- he just couldn't describe it.

"Mabel what do we do now-?" The first giant said, the one with the line and trapezoid thingy on the front on their forehead. The other had no markings, but he could tell that they were the star shaped bundle of stars.

"Just kill him- like.. like Grunkle Ford said.. to.." The star said.

The trapezoid with a line frowned, Shaking its head.

"I'm not gonna kill him, he's.. so small.."

"Then what?"

".. surely Grunkle Ford wouldn't mind if we take him home?"

Billy didn't understand what they were saying.

"BILLY??" Mom called out, much louder.

"I'm here, Ma." Billy replied. But mom didn't seem to hear him. So he tried saying it louder. "Here, Ma."

Still, nothing. Next thing he knew, he felt so odd, he didn't feel right.

He could move more. Everything wasn't hard to see, he could TURN.

..

"That was just a dream, Bill."

pls enjoy :3

Awwww thank you ❤️ Glad my comic inspired you to create this is so sweet 🥹

I love the atmosphere ✨ You can feel the unease 👀

Also MABEL?????? HOW ARE YOU SO BRUTAL? Don’t kill da baby D:

I know it’s a nightmare and it would be really fitting tbh (I think Bill would be paranoid/have anxiety about Pines now liking him) (if Pines have the memories present, there would be discomfort vibes between them)

But still

Mabel would never 😭 would she? 😭

Oh and 💥 this was Bill’s POV probably huh

Also forgot to mention it in part 3 💥

A person wrote a great short fanfic about how “normal” Bill would meet his parents (with a happy ending :D)

They didn’t want to share it publicly, I respect the decision so not tagging them

But just wanted to say that I really appreciate your fan works fellas 💕

It’s a delight to read your fanfics, makes me happy to know that people like my silly comic so much that they were inspired to create 🥹

[knockoffheart]

Neuman's Guard Dog (1/3)

summary: desperate times call for desperate measures. victoria neuman has procured a vial of compound V and intends to use it on you. she can't always be there to protect you.

warnings: drug coercion, hurt/comfort, graphic descriptions of bodily harm, murder, violence, blood, reader turned supe, body horror, neuman is not a good person (but we still love her), mentions of politics, general ‘The Boys’ show disclaimer, also NO SMUT (rip)

before you read: Reader is aware of Vic's blood powers. NOT aware of Vic's head explosions (ex. congress attack), relationship to Stan Edgar, The Boys (especially Hughie being involved). Sameer and Zoe do not exist in any of my AUs. Reader has been in life-threatening situations before, not a fan of them, but has been in at least two before.

Tensions are rising across the country, the world is getting more dangerous by the minute. There has already been two attempts on Victoria's life, she's made certain you are unaware of this; she's made certain you know nothing of Butcher and his "Boys". The risk of you being hurt because is far too high.

She promises she will make your relationship public after the election, but she's lying. If the world finds out about you, you're dead. Homelander, Butcher, Stan Edgar... they all have the power to kill you, they just need to see the big shiny target on your back first.

-

The hotel room you are staying at is lavish, it makes you feel like a celebrity — which is appreciated when you're really just the Vice President elect's paramour. In reality, you know you're more than that, but being sealed in this room doesn't make you feel like it. You're lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling, listening to a TV reporter cover the election in the background. You pull out your phone and check the voting map, it's more of the same. You groan and roll over, longingly awaiting Victoria's return. The monotonous voice of the reporter lulls you to sleep, only for you to be awoken shortly afterwards by Victoria’s gentle voice.

"I know I was gone longer than I said I would be," she closes the door behind her and sits next to you on the bed, "C'mere."

Victoria motions for you to lay your head in her lap and you oblige. She plays with your hair and stares at the television. Her silence causes you to turn on your back to get a better look at her face. Though her gaze is transfixed towards the screen, you notice her mind is elsewhere.

"You okay, honey?" you ask.

Victoria purses her lips and meets your eyes. Her serious expression causes you to sit up straight. Oh shit, she's gonna’ dump me. You shift uncomfortably, preparing for what's to come.

"I won't always be here to protect you. I- ... I can't deal with the thought of you getting hurt when I'm not around… I’m scared something is going to happen to you." Victoria takes your hands in hers, "I need you to do this for me."

She pulls out a capped needle full of blue liquid. You furrow your brows and gawk at her.

"W-Why do I need to... Vic, what is that?" you question.

The unnatural color of the liquid makes you uneasy. The only time you've seen that color is in TV shows about meth. Oh my god, does she want me to do meth? Your eyes widen even more. Why the fuck would she want me to do meth!?

"Compound V," she sets the needle down on the bed next to you. "It... It's what gave me my powers."

Not meth. You let out a sigh of relief, which is quickly replaced by a gasp of concern.

"Why do I need to take that!? What kind of danger am I in?" you yelp.

Victoria remains silent and looks away. You lean towards her, she's crying. Your stomach drops and you can't figure out what to say.

“Please. Just. Take. It." She places her hands on her face in an attempt to self pacify, "You'll be okay. I took it when I was a child and I'm fine. It is literally the only way for me to guarantee your safety, please." Her lip trembles.

You're speechless. She's never begged for anything before, let alone cried for it. You bounce your leg anxiously, working up the courage to do or say something. You grab her hand and pick up the needle.

"Okay. I-I will. I'll do it," you steady your voice, but your hand shakes as she takes the needle.

She sniffles and lets out an exasperated 'Thank you'. When she uncaps the needle you realize how huge it really is. Your breathing becomes more rapid and your whole body starts to tremble. You sit with your legs dangling off the front of the bed and she rolls up your shirt. You take in a deep breath and hold it, tears well up in the corners of your eyes.

"I love you," she presses a kiss into your shoulder as she injects the needle.

The second the blue fluid starts coursing through you, you feel like you should have asked a few more questions. That train of thought is cut off by a scorching pain. It feels like a wildfire is soaring through your veins. You cry out and collapse forward, supporting yourself up onto your elbows. Your whole body jerks from the pain. Victoria kneels down beside you and reaches for your arm, you pull away and stand. You sway unsteadily and stare down at her. Tears flow from her eyes but her face appears quiet, she knew how much this would hurt you. Your mixed emotions guide you to the bed and you throw yourself under the covers. You want to be mad, you want to scream and wail and kick until you see red but pain has sedated your anger. You can do nothing but sob and call for Neuman.

Victoria hurriedly joins you in bed, she pulls you close against her and pets your head. She kisses your forehead and whispers words of comfort. You choke on your cries and bury your face into her neck. You feel like you're dying. You find solace in the fact that it will be in her arms; and anguish in the fact that she will have been the one to kill you. At some point, your body gives out from exhaustion and you lie still.

-

The survival rate in adults injected with Compound V is an unsettling twenty percent. Victoria considered this, of course. She told you everyone in the company needed to submit bloodwork, for “insurance purposes”. It was a shit lie but you blindly followed her words anyway. She sent you to a Vought-owned lab and ran more in-depth tests. Your blood already contained slight traces of V, not enough for powers, but enough to give this new dose something to cling onto. This allows for a far less fatal outcome. She destroyed all evidence of the bloodwork afterwards, there's no need for you to know your own parents doped you as a newborn too. The powers you will gain can't be predicted, but she is satisfied with the guarantee of superhuman durability.

-

You wake up alone. You’re drenched in sweat but the pounding in your skull has ceased. I don’t feel any different? You slowly sit up and look around the room.

“Vic?”

You’re met with silence. You feel a pang of sorrow in your heart but chase away any forming tears. Upon getting up, you notice a water bottle and a small note.

‘ I swear I will make this up to you, I’ll be back as soon as a I can. I love you.

(If you feel up to it — counting is expected to wrap around 11, there’s an open bar!) ‘

You chug the water and drop the bottle letting bounce on the floor. You’re pissed at Vic. How much could she possibly care about my safety when she’s fully willing to abandoned my unconscious body… in a locked… fancy… You groan, she didn’t exactly leave you to the wolves but you’re feeling are still hurt. You trudge towards the bathroom, needing to wash off this whole event.

Thankfully, the shower makes you feel like a person again. You wipe the steam from the mirror and examine yourself — nothing seems different? You shrug and pat yourself dry. You find the oversized t-shirt you wore as pajamas last night and throw it on. Victoria’s red lipstick rests on the counter, it’s as sleek and polished as she is. The thought of her makes you smile, you are so quick to forgive. You pick it up to examine it but the sound of voices outside the door makes you stop abruptly.

Cautiously, you crack the door and call out for Victoria. It slams open and you’re met with two CIA agents, they stare down at you. You try to back up, but the taller man grabs your wrist and throws you into the center of the room.

Your body crashes into the floor, as you rise you notice two more people in the room; they’re hiding behind the kitchen island, a black-haired male and female in suits they appear uncomfortable in. Your attentions reverts back to your current attackers. The man who grabbed you squats in front of you.

"Care to explain what you're doing in Ms. Neuman's room?" he asks as the other man encroaches.

You remain silent and try to see what the two behind the island are trying to accomplish. A hard smack from the squatted man draws your attention back to the front. You still don't respond. He huffs and motions to his partner, who begins to draw his gun. You scramble back towards the wall, you can hear your heart beating and feel the hair on the back of your neck rise. An animalistic nature seems to be taking hold of you, all of your senses are on edge and there is a primal hunger creeping its way out of you. The click of the gun sets you off. You launch yourself off the wall and throw the armed man to the ground.

-

From behind the counter, Frenchie and Kimiko are left with their mouths agape. The harmony of feral growls and screams causes them to peer from behind the counter. They see you hunched over one of the guards covered in blood, the guards torso is torn open, rank viscera is splattered across the room. You spit out a chunk of red flesh and your eyes target the other agent. Frenchie reaches for his in-ear walkie and calls for Hughie. Kimiko watches as the remaining agent unloads his firearm into your body. Unflinching, you continue your stalk towards him.

"Hughie! It seems like Neuman has turned your little friend into some kind of junkyard mutt- SHIT!" Frenchie and Kimiko duck behind the island as a severed arm comes flying towards them. Frenchie speaks in a hushed shout, "Your time to shine, Mon ami!

-

The remaining agent is left in pieces, several of which have ended up in completely different areas. The room is quiet, aside from your panting and the shuffling in the kitchen. You stare down at your hands; they're covered in blood and you notice your nails have grown much longer and sharper. Though the room has filled with the stench of iron, you can still pick up the scent of your two intruders. You attempt to move towards them, but the lack of an immediate threat to your life (and possibly the several bullets you took) causes your adrenaline to drop - you collapse onto the floor. The pain of being thrown, beat, and shot catches up to you. You whine and dig into your wounds, trying to claw out the searing bullets. The duo stand from behind the counter and the man shouts to you.

"I would not to that if I was you!" He raises his hands out and steps towards you. You stare daggers back at the man.

Before you can shout whatever obscenities were slowly developing in your clouded mind, the door flies open. Hughie Campbell pauses in the doorway and takes in the scene around him.

"Jesus Christ..." he mutters.

"I told you, Victoria has fucked her!" Frenchie ushers Kimiko out the door and quickly follows, "Deal with this how you want, we must get back to the task at hand."

Hughie makes his way towards you and freezes when you look up at him, you are sitting on the floor like a wounded dog, blind from fear. Your eyes are completely black, your teeth resemble that of a well-fed wolf, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood. Hughie cautiously kneels down next to you and places his hand on your shoulder. He calls your name and directs your attention to his face. Slowly, you recognize the man in front of you and steady your breathing. He watches your eyes return to normal, the black slowly pooling itself into your dilated pupil.

"Hughie..." your voice is a whisper, "I-".

You finally take in the devastation around you, which stretches floor to ceiling, window to wall. The reality of the situation hits you and you burst into tears. Hughie hesitates before placing his other hand on your opposite shoulder and sighing.

"I can't believe she dragged you into this. I… I'm sorry."

"Oh my god- Hughie! I'm going to fucking prison," you whimper, "Oh fuck-“

You push away from Hughie and try to steady your breath. He backs off and stands.

"I'm actually fairly confident that won't happen," he gazes down and his face flushes red.

He turns away and offers his hand out to you, "L-Lets get you out of here, and get some pants on."

You clutch his hand and rise up, pulling the t-shirt down over yourself. He opens the drawers of the hotel's dresser and stops once he finds one with something in it. He holds out a pair of boxers, several sizes too big and extremely gaudy. You make a face and he tosses them towards you and turns around.

"They're better than nothing, okay? Everything else is fucking drenched in CIA agent…" he reasons.

He grabs a sheet from the bed and wraps it around you before heading out the door. You make your way to a utility van parked behind the hotel. Hughie slides open the door and you're met with a bearded man pointing a gun at you.

"JESUS! Butcher put that away!" Hughie bends over and catches his breath.

"No way that one is getting in here," his pistol remains focused on you, "Last thing we need is Neuman storming in here and popping all our heads."

Hughie starts to protest and Butcher cocks back the hammer. You place a hand on Hughie's chest and feed him a forced smile.

"It's okay, Hughie," you assure as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you, for getting me out of there,” you feel the barrel of Butcher's gun pressed against your temple. Your breath hitches and you pull away. Hughie hops into the van and it screeches away.

You are left alone in the parking lot and limp to a nearby alleyway. You hop around shards of broken glass and find an abandoned milk crate, you'll catch your breath here and then figure out a game plan. You sit yourself down and hear small clinking noises near the ground of the milk crate. The bullets previously lodged in you are being spit out of your skin, the craters they once resided in have filled themselves and you notice you're in a lot less pain. A sigh of relief falls from your lips and you shed the sheet wrapped around your shoulders. You feel a small prick in your neck and move your hand towards the pain, a needle resides in the crook of your neck, before you can turn around you go limp.

In your last moments of alertness, you read the lettering on the van you're being pulled in to.

'VOUGHT INTERNATIONAL'

Fuck.

|

authors note: part two is basically wrote in my mind already i just need to type it out <3 thanks for reading, after this next chapter im going to write for Maeve for a little bit and then possibly release a blank slate smut fic.. who’s to say really

[tip jar]

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Holidays Shana!! I really love your prompts about Greek mythology. Could you write a continuation of Hades or God's and Monsters?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Zagreus is mid word when he stills, eyes going distant. "Huh. I'll be right back."

"You're joking," Megaera says flatly. "You can't just drop this on me and-"

"Technically, Than did that." He would really prefer if Zagreus didn't pull him into this. "I'll be quick. She's calling me, it can't be anything good."

"Who's she?" Megaera demands but Zagreus is already gone. She scowls and turns to the others. "Who's she?"

"Eliana, maybe," Sisyphus offers, completely unruffled at Megaera's ire. "At least take a look out the balcony. This is the highest point in the court and the view is really spectacular."

It is. Thanatos hadn't known the underworld could be beautiful before he'd seen what Zagreus had built.

Her eyes narrow. "How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, I can't say for sure," Sisyphus shrugs, his lips almost curling into a smile. "I wasn't really there for the beginning."

"I was."

They both turn to Patroclus. Eurydice is the only one of them that's suitably wary of either him or Megaera.

"He grew poms in my clearing first," he continues. "It's where we grew things until it became too full and then he created this. Zagreus has woven protections around it, to keep others from stumbling upon it accidentally, but I'm sure you could find it if you looked."

Megaera crosses her arms. "I'm not leaving."

Patroclus shrugs. Eurydice looks longingly towards the door and Sisyphus seems to actually be enjoying himself.

Thanatos stiffens, pain with no physical cause blooming from his chest. "He's died."

"Really?" Eurydice asks, taking a step closer. "He doesn't really do that anymore."

"Except for show," Sisyphus adds, frowning. "But you're both here."

Before Thanatos can decide how he feels about that, Zagreus is slipping back through the mirror, flicking off blood from his arms. "Sorry about that, Artemis wanted a favor."

Thanatos cannot have heard what he thinks he did.

"Artemis?" Megaera repeats dangerously.

"Oh, she told Aphrodite by the way," he adds casually, then pauses. "Actually, she was pretty surprised to see me, so I guess Artemis just called me and let her figure it out herself. Cold."

"Well, this is all unraveling," Patroclus says, but he doesn't seem that worried about it. Not nearly worried about it as Thanatos thinks he should be.

Zagreus shrugs. "They can keep a secret. Also it's been almost fifty years already, this can't go on forever. I suppose I could just challenge Demeter outright?"

"Do not do that," Eurydice says.

Thanatos wants to sit down.

"Have you LOST YOUR MIND?" Megaera screeches, grabbing Zagreus's shoulders. Her nails dig into him, but he doesn't bleed. "You can't do this! You can't - have you - this is crazy!"

Zagreus shrugs, pressing her nails deeper into him. "What's she going to do? Kill me?"

"There will be war," Thanatos says quietly while Megaera seems lost for words.

"Long overdue, if you as me," he says casually. "She's killing a lot of people, Than. She's undermining the other gods and making things worse for everyone all because she lost her daughter. She's turning against her own domain because her grief is more important than her duty. I can't make my mother talk to Demeter. But I have the power to stop her, to put an end to this winter. So I have to stop her."

"This isn't your responsibility, Zag," Thanatos says quietly.

"No," he agrees, expression souring. "It's my mother's. But if the goddess of spring won't do her duty and put an end to winter, then I will."

"Why?" Megaera asks, something small and scared in her that Thanatos hasn't seen since the first time she heard of Zagreus attempting to escape. "Why does it have to be you?

"I am a son of life's beginning and of life's ending." Zagreus says gently. "I know there is balance. I exist because of that balance. When I was born, I had too much of my father, and Nyx filled me with my mother's blood, because I can only exist when there is both." Thanatos hadn't known that, hadn't known how exactly his mother managed to save a stillborn Zagreus. "Who else, Meg?"

She doesn't have an answer.

There isn't one.

[fumifooms]

Firefly Wedding is so…

It’s so

It’s them. It’s "It’s just a firefly, they’re meant to die soon. Why should I care about the sick, or the poor?"

It’s "I was purposely trying to scare you and push you away to see how far you were willing to go with your act, how desperate you were to play with my feelings as if I was a fool, but it didn’t work."

It’s "I know you’re just using me but now I care. Please keep using me. I need you to need me."

It’s choosing to give her her freedom anyways. Because your love is no longer all about you, no longer selfish. Because this love isn’t just a shallow balm to soothe your complexes anymore.

It’s being betrayed, finally facing the lies and no longer pretending you both don’t know that this is a farce, but desperately wanting to keep it going anyways. It’s "I should hate you now. Why don’t I? Hey, tell me we’ll go through with the plan, tell me you’ll marry me after all. Otherwise, why am I still here? Why don’t I want to leave? You act like you don’t need me but I still need you."

Like that’s so revolutionary for a yandere story. The self-delusion is strong, denial that things have changed despite it being impossible to truly believe, BUT HE STAYS. It’s no longer selfish 😭😭

"I don’t care about you anymore, I won’t help you. Get yourself killed for all I care." <- Jumps to her rescue 3 milliseconds later when she almost falls down a ladder/roof. It happens twice. The ‘lying and trying to emotionally distance yourself from something to protect yourself and not get hurt’ defense mechanism is blatant and it’s failing really bad.

It’s "My sense of duty and goals to have accomplished something useful in my short life are making me do this, but I do want you to stay with me." The yandere stuff here gets turned on its head because what he says is empty where it matters and meaningful where it matters. It’s knowing that if Satoko asks him not to kill anyone he won’t, but knowing that he won’t give up on her no matter what, even if she’s unattainable, even if she’s sickly, even if she pushes him away like just before. It’s so thinly veiled for "I’m determined to see my goal through, but that’s not what I want. If you just so happen to take me away and I don’t try to run away hard enough then we can elope and be free. I want to have an excuse to leave with you. Please give up on marrying me. Please don’t. I want that, but I can’t."

It’s "If I didn’t burn brightly in my short firefly life, then what was the point?"

Except that burning brightly doesn’t have to mean making big achievements, or being useful to your family.

It can be living happily, living for the ones you love, fighting for them. It can be worth to risk it for things that actually matter to you.

It’s giving your heart to someone, figuratively and literally. To lend it to them even if it might get used or battered, for as long as it beats to use your body to protect them, even if you have to sacrifice yourself. A love that burns bright into a bonfire before they both turn to ashes. Unwise but wholehearted.

It’s despite even that, needing grandiose gestures to be able to trust that this is real. It’s needing external cues that prove it to feel safe in their love existing, other people to confirm that he’s not crazy, that this is happening and this is how they both feel. Their love has been fake, both being a warped love and being a lie, only being out of necessity or because the other was the only one willing to offer it to them, offering comfort, safety, support and care. And showing that they care is the most loving of all. It’s despite everything falling back into old habits that "Oh if she was miserably worried for me then that means she’s not indifferent to me! That’s good!" And then once again being taken aback by her, by her earnestness and by her will. Because oh, no, this goes deeper than that. She cares. It’s love.

It’s opening your heart up to love, and both being punished and rewarded for it.

But most of all it’s

And it being the most loving thing he’d ever heard

Firefly Wedding is so…

And yet it’s also

The complicated and hurtful nature of love and the joy and light it brings are two sides of the same coin, because that’s what inevitably happens when you care about something. But caring about a firefly isn’t a waste even however short lived it is, or how hard the loss will inevitably hit you. Isn’t their light just such a wonder to witness?

[peachyfnaf]

sun and moon show tumblr dashboard simulator. because i find these hilarious and this fandom needs one. assume this takes place in a "bad shit happens, but everyone's still on speaking terms" au for it to make the most sense kfjhsfd

0 notes

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

when the nightmare goes so hard when you wake up you have to walk into the ocean just to make sure

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

Lunar, are you okay..?

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

guess

22 notes

👤 sunsthirdfingerjoint Follow

ok but the creator is kind of a dilf tho

🦙 TSAJSwillprevail Follow

he's killed hundreds

👤sunsthirdfingerjoint Follow

is a man not allowed to be a manic pixie dream girl in this day and age

🛸 moonenjoyer9315 Follow

guys are we just ignoring op's url

536 notes

☣️ mellorinefuega Follow

coming across montgomery gator in the wild is crazy. like i was just trying to make a deposit at the bank one time and he came up behind me and punched the teller in the face

🐩 hottodoggors Follow

op my girlfriend went thru a similar experience a few months ago. this dude sounds like a menace, fr. so happy hes not near me.

🐊 trustmewithyourinformation Follow

182.62.250.90

🐩 hottodoggors Follow

is that my fukcign ip address

1,102 notes

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

This is a gentle reminder that everything will be okay, you just have to give it time!!!

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

im seriously at my limit

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

Just give it time, everyone!!!

🔧 applejackenjoyer Follow

earth are you okay

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

guess

🌑 twilightsparkleno1fan Follow

🔧 applejackenjoyer Follow

nexus NO

179 notes

🪔 cloudandloud Follow

eclipse v2 and nexus are one in the same. hit post. and go to bed

🪔 cloudandloud Follow

i just woke up. ive never been this scared to look at notes in my life

979 notes

💡 ballogmore Follow

i love going to the pizzaplex with my little sister bc she's there for the glamrocks. i'm there to see if i can get my hands on that twinky little jester

🔋 buttonsandbatterypacks Follow

Which twinky little jester op

💡 ballogmore Follow

the daycare attendant model??? whomst the fuck else?????

🔋 buttonsandbatterypacks Follow

You'd be surprised how little that narrows it down, actually

34,343 notes

🧛🏿‍♀️ horseonabeach-man Follow

🗡️ leavethatlittleguyalone Follow

bro what did v2 do to you

🧛🏿‍♀️ horseonabeach-man Follow

exist

557 notes

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

every day i try to not let my brother rob a bank, and then every day he provides me good reasons as to why i should let him

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

sun do yuo know what you could do with the money

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

i dont want to know, moon

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

do you need a getaway diver

52 notes

🌊 themagicwawa Follow

"sun is so cute!! solar's such a dilf. nexus being insane is so ho-"

absolutely none of you can handle what i have to say about him

99 notes

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

god help me, hes so fine

🏝 chronicappleeater-deactiaved062324

yeah, him and all 5 pixels

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

i see god smited you for this one

😈 itsme-fromthebible

wrong deity, but appreciate it regardless

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

THE DEVIL FROM THE BIBLE??!?!

823,383 notes

🦌 dailydazzledeer Follow

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

if anything happens to this blog i genuinely hope taurus destroys the planet

55,932 notes

🦫 elchipichipichapachapa Follow

it's taken months, but i've finally finished it. the document explaining everything wrong with the sun and moon show

here's the link. enjoy

732 notes

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

every time one of us makes them mad, moon and nexus get closer to becoming the Hitachiin twins from ohshc to retaliate, and i fear the day they decide to just do it

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

even the thought of doing that is stupid

🌑 twilightsparkleno1fan Follow

even the thought of doing that is stupid

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

HOW DID YOU BOTH REBLOG AT THE EXACT SAME TIME THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR 4 MINUTES

18 notes

🟦 woobificationofthesillies Follow

"we need more evil women in the world!!!" you people cant even handle miku

932,382 notes

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

starting a conspiracy theory that we're all just puppets in a youtube show's script and that's why our lives are so miserable

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

hey guys why was i shadowbanned after posting this

8 notes