#( still there is this terrible desire to be loved // wants )

[rederiswrites]

Just saw a (perfectly good otherwise, which is why I'm making my own post, because I have no desire to beef) post that talked about how good Veilguard is and hinged part of its argument on the idea that bringing down the Veil would kill everyone and would definitely be a bad thing. But that theme worked specifically because they forced the narrative that bringing down the Veil was a bad thing, and purged all evidence to the contrary from the game's lore!

Look, I think Veilguard IS a great game! I love it! But, like every other DA game before it, it leapfrogs right over some established lore to tell a different story, and the story it ultimately told was not about quite the same Solas many of us loved in Inquisition and Trespasser, and the difference is significant.

There was quite a LOT of reason to believe that the Veil is an unsustainable artificial structure that, by its existence, does literally incalculable harm. And no one, probably Solas included, knows what the final consequences of bringing it down would be.

The Veil was a mistake in the first place. It changed Thedas so completely that even the ancient lore of all currently existing cultures does not talk about what it was like before. It's unimaginable. We see only tiny glimpes of a world where gravity might as well not exist and form is mutable and elves don't age and if you got bored you could go on a whole-ass vacation from your body, for centuries if you wanted. Where magic was inextricable from physical existence. Where you could spend centuries playing a piece of music. And not only was it a mistake, but it didn't quite do what it was designed to do! The Blight got out anyway! Slower, and less, but it still got out.

So what Trespasser set up was a choice--continue the deep harms of the current world, a world that is in a near-constant state of apocalypse, or incur the terrible harms of bringing down the Veil for what might be a better world after. But what Veilguard gave us was a man who was used by someone he loved, betrayed by people he trusted, and never in all his wisdom managed to move past that. And your choice is to either trick him or help him move past that. It was actually a compelling story! I can buy it. The story of a spirit, deeply damaged by the things he felt trapped into doing. But it WAS a forced narrative, and they had to brush a bunch of really pivotal lore under the rug to make it work. "What is a Circle" levels of don't mind the man behind the curtain.

I defend the right of creatives to alter their story and tell it the way they want to. I also recognize the difficulties they face dealing with technical and business realities. But let's not pretend that people who were disappointed with Veilguard just don't get it or didn't understand the lore correctly. We can enjoy the game and also not invalidate that disappointment.

[megumimania]

A silly ask and I'm kinda surprised no one has done this yet and I like your writing so I'm sending it to you but basically fem reader and toji on an episode on maury :3

WHO’S YOUR DADDY? — toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: the way this has sat in the drafts for well over a year, loved writing this btw, thanks anon!

it’s no secret that toji has his doubts about whether megumi is his.

but you’re officially over going back and forth with him. especially when he still owes you child support that he refuses to pay until you show him valid proof that megumi is his son.

and what better way to give him that confirmation that he desires than on the messiest show on daytime television, in front of a live studio audience.

“for those who have joined us after the break, today we are joined by y/n, who claims that her ex boyfriend toji is pretending to act like he isn’t the father to their two year old son megumi so he doesn’t have to pay child support.”

the camera pans to you and toji sat a few feet away from each other. you can tell that he thinks this whole thing is a joke from the way he’s slouching in the chair and the constant sarcastic replies he gives maury each time he’s asked a simple question.

“maury how do i know she’s not tryna hustle me outta my hard earned money, huh?” he asks, seemingly thinking that he’s caught you in a tight spot. “besides have you seen the kid? his hair is spiky as fuck, nobody in my family has that hair type.”

the laugh that threatens to leave your lips is almost sickening, using hair as reason to not claim his child was absurd.

it was almost as wild as trying to accuse you of being a good-for-nothing money hungry vulture. which was rich coming from him. considering that your job was practically funding his lifestyle, aside from the large dose of cash he received from his 'work trips’ that cropped up once in a while.

the cash did nothing for you as he spent it as fast as he received it. rather than putting it towards megumi’s trust fund or college fund, he squandered it all on drinking and gambling, especially when it came to the races.

it turns out his charming looks and smiles do not work on the biggest gamble of all time: betting on damn race horses.

but in the rare instance he had some had some heart he contributed towards the bills and groceries. yet that still wasn’t enough.

“when was the last time you paid for megumi’s diapers or his formula or anything related to the apartment, hm?”

you retort, revelling at how all the fight and bravado he once held was slowly seeping out of him, as if he had all of his blood sucked out of him. the host looks expectantly at toji, awaiting a response.

the audience sets off in a chorus of ‘boos’ before toji even has a chance to respond to clear his name. he feels ambushed, the humiliation of admitting to be a terrible father on television creeping up on him.

but what did he expect? he always pushed too hard and now he’s paying the price as you unsurprisingly pushed back even harder.

and of course in the sea of 'boos', there’s a few cheers in the crowd from people who are more interested in getting into his pants instead of the main reason to why you were here in the first place.

“oh and maury if you think i’m lying, i’ve got invoices, bank statements and receipts spanning the last three months.” you add “i can tell you for a fact that this man doesn’t spend a dime on anything—he might as well put on a diaper and sleep in our son's crib.”

"and so what?" toji shrugs, ever so nonchalant. to the degree it pisses you off, he could at least try to act like he cares in front of the camera and the audience.

“i still make it up to you though, don’t i?” he replies, a teasing edge to his tone that has implications that you don’t want to unpack on national television, which was ironic since your business was already out there anyway.

the look on your face is almost murderous, and luckily maury manages to pick up on before this turns into a bloodbath. he quickly perks up as he holds up the manilla envelope that was going to make or break your day.

“In here we have the results of the paternity test, come back after the break!” he says clasping his hand together as you head to the commercial break. immediately you head backstage, grabbing megumi from the staff member who seemed smitten with him.

he latched onto you as you doted on him, before he waddled off to play with his firetrucks that you brought with you in your bag. “he’s getting so big.” a familiar voice says and you turn to see him in the doorway.

“megumi look! daddy’s come back with his tail between his legs because he knows he’s about to be publicly embarrassed on tv!” you say in a mocking voice, pointing out to where toji is standing and he toddles over, smacking his arm as he adorably glowers at his dad.

“bad daddy!” he says and you stop him before he gets out of control and starts to barrel toji with his kicking and slapping. you pull megumi onto your lap trying to calm him down whilst biting back a laugh.

“we don’t hit megumi, unless people deserve it like your daddy.” you tell him softly but you doubt he’s retained any of what you said anyway.

megumi is nestled into your lap, his focus back onto the firetruck that he’s playing with. for his age the kid is incredibly perceptive to the point where it spooks you out.

and if toji feels more like an idiot now, he doesn’t say so.

—

“and we’re back! for those who have just joined us, y/n claims that her ex boyfriend is denying that he’s the father of their child to avoid child support payments.”

the clips of the past half hour play back as you sit down, the manilla envelope in your eye level making your heart race slightly. deep down you knew that he was the father so why was the anticipation making you doubt that?

the crowds cheering and whooping comes to a close once maury grabs hold of the manilla envelope, he opens it, dragging out the grand reveal for dramatic purposes as the suspense builds in the room.

“when it comes to two year old megumi fushiguro, toji… you are the father!” he announces setting off the crowd in a series of cheers. you look over at toji and notice the red flush that covers his neck and ears, a sure tell sign of embarrassment and guilt.

“all i gotta say is that i fucking told you so, hell i didn’t even have to say anything you should’ve known!” you said to him, as he did nothing but take the well deserved lecture from you.

toji felt really fucking stupid, like really stupid but he didn’t want to add to your tirade already, he already wanted to melt of pure embarrassment under the hot studio lights. he really underestimated the lengths you’d go to prove him wrong.

“it’s time to start scrimping and saving, old man. food, clothes and diapers aint cheap. I’m sure your poor race horses will understand right?” you said teasingly, biting back a laugh as you clapped his shoulder.

toji let out an annoyed huff as the sound of your laughter ricocheted in his head, the high from your victory lap still present. he couldn’t be more of a fool if he tried. “haha very funny.” he said drily, despite his head burning, now he owed you and shiu money over his stupid antics.

he knew that as long as the internet and tv were still around, he was never going to live this day down, knowing you’d use this moment to embarrass him and deservedly so.

“i’ve been your host, maury! come back tomorrow where we have suguru and satoru. two former best friends and alleged lovers with satoru claiming that suguru’s affair with the kfc worker ruined their relationship!”

[1moreff-creator]

I remember you saying that Tsuno and Okazaki are your favorites from Tetro. How are you feeling, FF :3

Spoilers for TDRP CH3. CW: Murder, Okazaki.

I, for one, am feeling delighted on one hand and kinda sad on the other, as you can probably imagine! I can’t be too upset though, since I’m used to my favorites dying in general, but in Tetro especially. Sasaki was my favorite in CH1. Oka and Chiba competed for my favorite status in CH2. And now Oka and Tsuno were my favorites in CH3. I haven’t decided who is my favorite of the people still alive, but Hiroaki, Tamba and Yanagi are on thin ice (pun intended for Yanagi).

In particular, I’m not upset at all about Oka’s death. I think you put it best in some of your posts: she wasn’t gonna last forever, so I just wanted her to go out with a bang, and she went out with the equivalent of a nuclear blast. Her supervillain reveal is probably my favorite scene in all of Tetro, I can’t immediately think of any other that matches up to it in my books. Just completely unhinged behavior after what was probably my favorite trial so far, which is impressive given the whole “CH3 curse” canon dangan usually had.

She was just extremely entertaining, what can I say? Her insults, her taunts, her crazy beef with Tsuno, everyone’s reactions, all simply peak. And I know this might seem like a weird thing to focus on, but her background music is lovely. One of my main gripes with the Tetro format (and this is just personal preference, don’t take it as criticism because it isn’t) is the lack of bg music, so of course I’m glad my fave gets her own theme. Monarch shit.

And, come on. How often is it that both of your favorites have a storyline connection as peculiar as the whole “nemesis” thing these two had going on? Like, it’s genuinely awesome, and the fact that it’s completely one-sided just makes it better! I kinda wish we could have seen Tsuno’s reaction to this, because holy hell. How would you even react to this???

Oh, and the Watari thing. I’ve always been a sucker for terribly evil characters who have a soft spot for a nice person. Watari’s despair while Oka’s having the time of her life is genuinely awesome, and Oka clearly liking the time she spent with Watari is fun.

I do feel like I’m missing stuff, though? Like, I‘ve seen some analysis in Tumblr about Oka’s backstory which I assume is revealed in Staffside, because I have no idea what these people are talking about but it sounds cool. I really- I gotta read Staffside, I think, it’s getting critical by now.

Oh yeah, btw. Oka’s Yonekura’s kid! Since I haven’t read Staffside, that only tells me something about Dr Yonekura and not so much Oka. I will thank Oka for Dr Yonekura dropping one of my favorite lines in Tetro, though. “[Does your daughter have] Any special skills?” is crazy.

That said, I am slightly upset that Tsuno died when she did. I wanted to see her crash out after learning Oka beat up Wada! I would have loved to see her react to Oka’s made up beef with her! I wanted to see her crumble and burn out even more than she already was! I would have loved for her to outlive Wada just to see her reaction! I am a normal person with normal desires of seeing my favorites suffer horrendously!!! But oh well, fangans gonna fangan, I guess. Can’t be too torn up about it. At least Oka’s beef with her remains legendary.

I also feel like I should at least mention Kamimura? It’s funny ‘cuz like. He’s just There. He ain’t got nothing to do with the most toxic one-sided ship in history, he kinda just got caught in the crossfire. I feel like his death here makes sense, though; he had his arcs, he had his development and stuff, and now we get to see Hasegawa crash out for up to 3 chapters which is awesome! Assuming a standard DR formula, of course.

Anyways, thanks for the ask! I really should probably post more about Tetro, so this gives me an excuse lol :v

[tenwhiteandalusians]

is episode 8 the domitian arc ? more on this and EVEN MORE narratives i’ve been ignoring that the show said “actually,,,” about in 5

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[lamiaviridis]

Amora can sense people's lust and love. She can amplify one's desires and attractions as well as one's heartbreak in a fight to gain an upper hand (i.e. casting an illusion of the enemy's subject of desire, changing her appearance to that of the enemy's lover, projecting her pain of heartbreak onto them to emotionally stun them, ect.).

In terms of using her own powers on herself, she will sometimes project all of her heartbreak onto a (well-deserving) enemy and either leave them to fall into a pit of depression or mercy kill them to put them out of their emotional turmoil, thus in a way getting rid of her own pain. She also can completely erase her ability to love if she stares at herself in a reflection and hypnotizes herself to forget about the subject of her heartache. Much like her kiss, this only works for about a week or less. She's done this on numerous occasions, normally when she feels herself falling in love too easily at the slightest bit of affection or attention.

This usually works, and it even worked with Thor when she started doing it more frequently, like a weekly cleansing. It almost never worked when it came to Loki, though. The week of her feeling nothing for them was over, and she was right back to feeling her love for them building up from an unknown crevice the next time they ran into each other. This is my personal headcanon as to why their on-and-off relationship has lasted for so long in the comics. (85 years to be exact)

[impossible-rat-babies]

love the gameplay trailer bc the lady is like: “could you have held fast that which is dear? without sacrifice?” and my brain just jump cuts to eyrie family guy death pose at the end of EW

[v-iv-rusty]

as much as I never post about it I kind of genuinely am fascinated by the evil cheese grater man

[heinrix]

comparing how gale loves oz vs. how enver loves oz is such good food for my brain because they both see him, they know his soul and the shitty things he’s done and how much of a selfish dickhead he is but the difference is gale loves oz despite those flaws and enver loves oz because of those flaws

[deadrlngers]

OC DUALITY + TRAGEDY ROLE

i was tagged by @risingsh0t @morvaris @devilbrakers to take this quiz and by @indorilnerevarine and @girlbosselrond to take this other quiz for my ocs. thank you all soso much!!!

i'm super late to this and i'm sure these already made rounds so i'm tagging whoever wants to do this <3

— oc duality:

god-hungry scientist and their abominable child

you stitched something together inside of yourself and gave it life with light from the sky and now it won't die it and you can't kill it because part of you loves it and you're not quite right in the head or the person you used to be but at the end of the day it's simply a beast of sadness. you crave the mercy you didn't get from your creators and so i'm telling you please forgive yourself. please hold the monster by the hand.

bandmates with firecracker sexual chemistry

you are like shooting stars. you are misguided and magnetic and drawn to your loves without hesitation. something about you gulps down anything it finds. and you're fun, and you stick your tongue out to anyone, and we love you for it with kisses and pulls of the hair. you will be remembered in fascination and jealousy. you are unforgettable.

— tragedy role:

misunderstood villain

prepare for an onslaught of both the most dehumanizing and hateful takes, and flood of thirst comments. you are chronically misunderstood. whether or not you're actually evil is debatable. you may be acting out for revenge, to defend someone you love, or even just to protect yourself. you're a pretty jaded person. you don't trust or even really like most people. maybe you did at one point. but that part of you is gone, and you don't go a single day without grieving it. you think a lot about what your life could have been. you're stuck in the past. you're angry and maybe you don't even want to be, but this is the only way you can see to survive. you're open, but less in a trusting way and more like a wound. you don't like to let people see you, but the hurt spills out of you before you can stop it. you're impulsive, even as you try hard to plan and prepare. maybe someday your side of the story will finally be heard. until then, you can convince yourself that being hated is safer anyway.

tortured love interest

you're so hot. sorry about the horrors. you're the kind of person people immediately notice. whether you have a distinct style, are more outgoing, or are just plain beautiful, you make an impression. people usually feel the need to protect you, which probably frustrates you to no end. you're not weak! you're not fragile! you're not helpless! but the people in your life tend to disagree. maybe it's your lover, the protagonist, trying to keep you out of their own turmoil. maybe it's someone responsible for you in some way, keeping you away from your lover, while they head down an increasingly dark path. regardless, all you really want is a sense of autonomy! unfortunately, you're very likely to die before that happens. the audience will be so caught up in the grief your death causes the protagonist that they forget to grieve you as a person. you deserved better, but unfortunately this is not your story. maybe it should have been.

[brckenbadass]

tags 1

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[majinbangus]

Being sick but wanting ice cream so you try to sneak out in the middle of the night to buy some like a disheveled gremlin all stuffy and sweaty, feverish in nothing but your pajamas and bathrobe, but just as you're about to leave, the light turns on and a pair of arms wrap around your waist to drag you back in bed for rest.

"Ach?! What the-?"

"Thought you could sneak away, huh?" Your man grumbles, unyielding as he (gently) manhandles you along, shooting you a mean stink eye for your attempted misadventure. "I'm special forces; where did y'think you were goin', sweetheart?"

You feel yourself start to sweat and not from the fever. "No-nowhere, darling, I was just-"

"Using pet names won't butter me up." He tightens his hold when you get squirmy. "Stop that. You need rest, y'muppet."

You blame it on your fever-addled brain, but you try to bargain with him. Promise to be good if he lets you go. Tell him how happy it'd make you if he granted this one wish. A lot of woe, is me peppered in your plea. As it turns out, he's got an iron will, and you need to work on your persuasive skills. Not surprising, but still.

"I want ice cream!" You half-heartedly thrash in his arms, making him click his tongue, adjusting his grip as to not hurt you.

"Fuckin'- stop that!"

"No, lemme go!"

Your feverish resistance is no match for his strength. All you pull from him is a frustrated grunt, annoyed with your antics.

"You're sick. Where you need to go is our bed." He leans in close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. "Or do I need to tie you down?"

The threat has the desired effect and makes you go limp in his arms, if a little pouty. You know he would do it. He's done it before, and he'll do it again. He's a man of his word, and (majority of the time) you know when to listen.

He successfully wrangles you back in bed, getting you to lie back down in warm sheets with little complaint. No rope is necessary, but he wraps you up in his arms just in case. A tried and true form of pinning you down. You never thought he'd use this method against you while you were incapacitated, but you're a wily one, even when you're sick. He'll make sure you can't escape.

You may have failed your little mission, but it's not too terrible of a loss. Not when it led you to being cuddled in his arms.

You still wish you got your ice cream, though. It's been forever since you had some. Too bad you'll only get to painfully, dramatically, yearn for your lost love now.

There's a deep chuckle puffing against your ear, and then you're being hugged tighter to your captor.

"I know that look. Don't pout. I'll get you your ice cream. Just get better for me first. Alright, mischief?"

... Alright.

[satorhime]

୨୧ㅤִㅤׄ COUGH SYRUP ― GOJO SATORU.

satoru is a bit of an idiot who will do anything to get you to speak to him after an argument.

𓈒 ݁ ₊ content ﾉ fem reader, clingy satoru, established relationship, mild argument, fluff, not proofread, randomly started missing my boy :( <3

satoru can’t function when you’re upset with him. 

he knows he should be an adult about it — he is an adult, after all. he should give you space, let you simmer down. most people do not do things such as send one hundred and fifty text messages (he counted each of ‘em; you left him on read one hundred and fifty two times. who does that?) to your phone while you’re in the middle of grocery shopping and they most definitely do not take a sick day because their significant other is mad at them. 

 but then again, satoru isn’t like most people. 

which is why he’s currently sprawled out on the sofa in the middle of the day, wrapped in your favorite throw blanket — one that still smells faintly of your perfume. tissues litter the coffee table and floor around him, an unconvincing movie set of misery. call him manipulative, but it’s the only thing he’s got left in the tank since, for the last seventy-two hours, you haven’t spoken more than five words in a sentence to him. 

you’re his main source of enrichment, his brain stimulated by your sweet kisses and good loving so when you take that away, you’re stripping away his heart and soul. he’s got nothing left. he might as well die.  

in satoru’s brain, he figures that surely, if he’s coughing up a lung, you’ll feel bad for him and start talking to him again. in sickness and in health, right? 

by the time you walk through the front door after making a quick run to the supermarket for groceries, he’s in full performance mode, clutching his stomach with a groan. 

the sound is so realistic that you feel a sudden stab of worry, wondering if he’s injured. rushing into the living room, you find all six foot three of your boyfriend balled up on the sofa, looking like walking death. 

or trying to, anyway. 

“satoru?” you ask, eyebrows arching as you set your grocery bags down on the floor, taking out your phone and glancing at the time on the lockscreen. “why are you home? it’s eleven am.” 

“baby,” he groans pitfully, looking up at you. his glacier blue eyes are red rimmed and shimmering suspiciously — like he squeezed them shut repeatedly until he got the desired effect. satoru sniffles for good measure, huddling into the blanket. “i’m sick,” he announces, his lower lip wobbling, dragging out the last syllable like it physically hurts him to say it. 

“sick? you seemed fine when i left this morning,” you say, taking a step forward. you reach out a hand, pushing back his wintery locks to check for a fever. his skin feels normal, cool to touch even. your eyes narrow. you’re dubious — satoru never gets sick, yet it is his favorite act whenever he’s in the doghouse and wants attention. that, and he’s a terrible actor. you purse your lips, irritated. this is what he does instead of just apologizing? 

“i wasn’t fine emotionally,” satoru whines back. “i’m heartbroken here. it’s debilitating my health rapidly.” 

your expression doesn’t budge and satoru’s pout deepens when he realizes you’re not buying it. he clutches the blanket tighter around his big body, exaggerating a shiver for good measure. “you’re my life force, angel. my happiness. my —”

“stop it,” you interrupt and hold up a hand, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. you’re mad at him — you are. “but let me get this straight. you called out of work because i wasn’t talking to you?” 

“it was a medical emergency. do you have any idea what it’s like to go hours without hearing you voice?! without seeing you smile at me? you wouldn’t even let me use your body wash last night so we could share the same scent. i barely survived the night. any longer and i’d be a goner,” he sighs dramatically, then remembers he’s supposed to be on his last leg and hacks, phlegm rattling in his throat. 

“you’re obsessed,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to hold firm. but your damned heart has selective memory and it is making an appearance again, rapidly forgetting why you’re still mad at him. oh, you had a right to be upset over what he did, but it seems insignificant now when he’s in front of you, groveling like a servant at a throne. 

“angel, come on,” he presses, sitting up on the sofa and reaching for your hand, hurt flashing bright across his eyes when you step out of range. if you let him pull you down on that sofa with him, he’ll sweet talk his way into you forgiving him without consequences. he’ll do that anyway, but you won’t make it easy for him. “i’ll do anything to make it right.” 

“don’t angel me. you can’t just manipulate me into forgiving you with your big pretty eyes,” you wag your finger at him. “i bet you don’t even know what you did.” 

“i know, but it’s working, ain’t it?” he grins, shamelessly dropping the congested tone in his voice. “and i know what i did,” he scoffs. “you’re mad at me about that thing.” 

yes, that thing.

two nights ago, your body pillow — your very expensive, weighted body pillow which happened to have a giant render of your boyfriend on it, went missing. you’d commissioned it to have something to cuddle with on those nights when satoru is away on business and you miss him in your shared bed an unhealthy amount. you’d become a little too attached to it, though, while satoru wanted nothing more than to burn it. 

“he has a name,” you hiss, swatting satoru’s knee as you struggle not to laugh. “don’t call mr. comf-toru-ble a thing! he’s sensitive.” 

“see?” satoru says, scrubbing a hand over his handsome face before gesturing around wildly. “you even named it.” 

you give him a sharp look. “he cost me an entire paycheck— an entire paycheck that three days ago, you gave to the garbage collectors because i was cuddling him instead of you!” 

“i was feeling neglected!” he defends, voice pitching higher in his affront, placing a hand on his chest. “you spent the whole night with it. meanwhile, i— your husband— was right there, cold and alone. i can’t let me steal my wife.”

“we’re not married, satoru,” you remind him, then pout. “unlike my husband, the pillow doesn’t hog the covers, snore, or throw out things that i really like.” 

“it’s not hogging the covers, it’s redistribution of them for my comfort,” he grins playfully, but upon seeing your serious expression, he concedes, sobering up. in truth, he knows he messed up and went too far. it was childish to throw out something that you bought because of his frequent bouts of absence. maybe if he was around more, you wouldn’t need to cuddle with body pillows that look like him. “look, baby. i’m sorry. it was a moment of weakness. it’s not everyday i gotta be in competition with myself, but i’ll make it up to you! i even ordered you another one.” 

“a moment of jealousy, you mean,” you counter, but there’s no real bite behind your tone now.

“hey, you gotta see it from my perspective though. it’s kind of crazy seeing you cuddle with a pillow that looks like me when the real thing is right here,” satoru gestures down the long line of his body, though it looks more comical than inviting when he’s wrapped like a overstuffed burrito in your throw blanket.

“mm,” you nod, “well, maybe if the ‘real thing’ is a good boy, i’ll cuddle him more often.” 

“deal,” he answers immediately and when his muscular arms shoot out from behind the blanket and reach for you this time, you let him. his arms circle around your waist, pulling you into his lap. it was just a few days of silent treatment, but satoru wastes no time tucking his face against the dip of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent like you’re something precious and rare he lost ages ago and is just discovering again after eons. 

he’s squishing you, he knows it, but god he hates it when you’re mad at him — and you, in return, hate being at odds with him too. you both make too much sense to each other to be apart, and there’s upset in the balance of the world when the two of you are in an argument. 

“worst seventy-two hours of my life,” satoru blows out a breath of relief, the air tickling the hair at the nape of your neck, drawing a shiver down your spine. “never do that to me again, angel. you hear?” 

“don’t throw out my customized satoru merch again and i won’t, baby,” you coo, smiling. 

“you’ll still choose me over the other guy though, right?” 

“we’ll see, ‘toru, we’ll see,” you answer playfully, yelping when he darts in to nip at your ear in retaliation.

getting comfortable in satoru’s lap, you lean in to put the both of you out of your miseries and forgive him with a kiss when you get a whiff of menthol and childhood memories wafting from his chest.

 “are you wearing vaporub?”