#A Small Infestation comic

[futureflipflop]

Wanna learn how to mew?

Reader persuades Leif how to mew. Surely, this is a responsible decision.

Bonus:

[devonaeya]

[flightyalrighty]

Well, Infested 1-31 is NOT getting done in time for tomorrow, but the inks are complete (with speech balloons). So now I have a question for you all:

No matter what, I'll need to drop work on Infested to get Tiger's Tail done before my deadline. Got an extension! But it's not done yet, and that date's rapidly approaching. So what do you guys think? Sorry for posting this so late!

[signanothername]

saw your recent post about Nightmare's room for Dream, and it reminded me of a fic, where due to Dream still physically and mentally being 6 in the stone, Nightmare was preparing for what to do now as the 'older brother'

which made me wonder

I'm betting Ink or someone from the Omega Timeline found Dream first when he was freed from the statue

What would've happened had it been Nightmare? When faced with this small six year old who is nothing like he remembers, would Nightmare's true self and corruption be mentally first fighting on what the hell to do?(The mental image of this is a bit comical)

Aw that’s adorable dhhxhxhxh

So funny enough, I kinda already made 2 comics that explored what Nightmare’s reaction will be to a small 6 y/o Dream before, just under completely different circumstances

But here’s the thing, while i have explained before how Nightmare’s corruption works in my eyes, I don’t think I was really clear in my explanations, so I’m taking your ask as an excuse to explain it better >:) (i’ll get back to your main question I promise hdhdhdh i just wanna help you connect some dots when it comes to Nightmare’s behavior)

So something to keep in mind is how Nightmare’s mind isn’t truly strong enough to fight off his corruption/corrupted thoughts from controlling him and guiding his actions, and while Nightmare is in absolute control of his mind, his corruption has shaped it in its own twisted way, that’s why he’s an absolute fucking bitch, that’s why Nightmare can be extremely cruel to those around him

Think of his corruption as a parasite, it feeds off Nightmare’s own pain and in turn it’s what makes Nightmare feel that pain (and his own emotions) magnified times a thousand

So when say a normal person who isn’t corrupted feels anger for example, they would feel that anger through stages from it being a mere mild frustration that turns to anger and then full blown rage (depending on the situation of course), but even then a normal person would be able to control that frustration so it doesn’t escalate to anger and in turn never turns to rage, or even if this person were to immediately jump to rage, then they’ll be able to calm themselves down by venting that anger a bit

Nightmare on the other hand,

A- doesn’t go through those stages for his emotions, he immediately experiences the most intense form of them

and

B- those feelings never go away, they linger and fester inside him like an infestation as it is what his own corruption feeds on

He feels angry? That anger is a full blown rage inside him, he feels sad? That’s crushing depression for him, he feels hate? That hate is nothing but raw loathing for everyone and everything around him, he feels fear? It’s fucking paralyzing to the point Nightmare seeks power so he won’t have to feel afraid, he feels happy? It’s tainted by his now sadistic behavior as Nightmare finds sick satisfaction and glee in hurting those around him

Of course, how he deals with that changes as he grows and learns and adapts, so such emotional intensity/ instability is extremely apparent on him as a newly corrupted 6 y/o who feels all alone and lost in the world while it shapes his personality and who he becomes as an adult with a lot more control over his actions/reactions (corruption + bad experiences that shapes his mind = Mean Girl Bitchmare)

What I’m trying to say is that his corruption contributes to his emotional instability, and that corruption knows what to feed on exactly, it makes it so Nightmare feels dependent on negativity so he won’t have to experience what it’s like to feel powerless again, it feeds on his fear, pain, anger, hatred and it extends to Nightmare’s sadistic cruel actions that in turn brings more negativity, which in turn makes him stronger and by extension the corruption stronger which contributes to magnifying his emotions even more, which leads to more cruelty and so on, it’s a never ending torturous cycle that no one is aware Nightmare’s in.. including Nightmare himself, Nightmare is as much of a victim to his corruption as those poor souls who have to deal with Nightmare cause of it

The corruption magnifies Nightmare’s emotions too much for his mind to even be able to process them let alone regulate them, (and Nightmare already has problems understanding his own emotions to begin with) and in turn that corruption only got to his mind as well

Imagine it this way, Nightmare’s mind is plagued by his now corrupted thoughts, he can’t truly think clearly through the thick suffocating corruption, trauma, and horrifying experience in his first 500 years of corruption, it’s like looking through a broken mirror, the pieces of the mirror are still there, and they still show his reflection, but they’re too distorted and messy to form a clean and clear reflection, Nightmare looks at himself in that mirror, but all he sees is scattered pieces of who he used to be (he can no loger recognize his reflection) and so as Nightmare keeps trying to put the pieces back together, it’s more and more clear that not only do they now show the reflection of he used to be, but also who’d he become, the shattered mirror pieces reflect both his corrupted and passive self in a distorted messy way (that’s who Nightmare is now)

Ok if that’s the case, how come Nightmare has kind moments that contradicts his own corrupted state of being? Cause despite his corruption, he’s still Nightmare, I can never emphasize that enough

Despite the cycle he’s in, despite the state of those shattered pieces of who he used to be, those pieces that has his passive self STILL EXIST alongside his corrupted pieces, Nightmare’s own mind, thoughts, emotions and identity beyond that corruption still linger inside him, even if if in a sort of a limbo state

Ok with that all in mind, what the fuck does that have to do with a 6 y/o Dream? Everything

Just like I showed in the comic before, Nightmare would be too blinded by his own pain and hatred (that’s magnified by his corruption) to actually slow down and realize that Dream is 1- literally still a 6 y/o in mental and physical capacity, and 2- is just as in much pain and with such as much trauma as he is

Nightmare hates Dream with a passion

But the thing is, as I showed in this comic here, apart of Nightmare still deeply cares about Dream, even when Nightmare’s in absolute denial about it, I dare say Nightmare doesn’t even realize how much that lil part of him cares

And that would reflect on how he deals with Dream, Nightmare would be conflicted alright, but his corruption would win first and foremost and as such, he’ll deal with Dream with cruelty (that he later realizes was a mistake)

I will not lie, I’ve yet to decide on what I love to think happened to Dream as a statue, but allow me to say that it’s one of 4 options, I like to believe it’s either

A- Nightmare kept him in Dreamtale beside the corpse of their mother

B- took Dream with him to his own castle where he kept him in a safe space

C- left him in a remote part of the multiverse in an empty universe devoid of life (which later got populated)

D- a combination between A and B and C in a linear timeline (i think option D is my fave so far, but I haven’t made a final decision yet :’D)

That being said, the moment Dream breaks out his stone prison, I believe Dream would be too confused and scared to understand what’s going on, hell, would probably think the Apple incident happened just yesterday, not that 500 years passed (you can imagine Dream’s shock later) only to start frantically searching for Nightmare and when he does find his twin? Nightmare doesn’t look like Nightmare anymore, where’s his golden crown? Where’s his tunic? Why is he so much taller? So many questions, and Nightmare’s not in the mood to answer

Nightmare would definitely be shocked to see Dream out of his prison, a big part of him hates that Dream escaped it, Dream doesn’t deserve to be free, another part of him (the one that cares) is relieved cause turning him to stone was never the plan, and then the more dangerous corrupted part of him is sadistically gleeful, he could finally get a proper payback and to have the golden apple from such a weak, small and helpless child

Dream would start talking about how he wants Nightmare back and you can imagine how pissed Nightmare would be at Dream’s daring audacity to bring up the apple incident

Their first interaction after Dream is finally freed is not at all pleasant (the fact Dream is still a 6 y/o physically and mentally doesn’t deter Nightmare’s cruelty)

Nightmare eventually realizes he should’ve been a lot more merciful on his twin when he first broke out his prison, yet that sadistic gleeful part of him can never be quelled (unbeknownst to Nightmare that the glee he feels at Dream’s misfortune is just his trauma shaped in a twisted manner due to his corruption, he feels like Dream hadn’t suffered like he had, so Nightmare will make Dream suffer himself)

And the rest is (kinda) history :)

[rue-dixon]

This panel is on my mind 24/7. I want more context, I want a mini comic from Kui about it so bad. Also it's hilarious how this is the only time we actually see his daughters in the canon manga.

We probably won't get any more context about it since it most likely wasn't a real situation that happened and just an example. But I wrote a short fanfic inspired but it anyways.

Falin adjusted the glowing lantern next to her, making sure she could see the party clearly as she sat up against the cold brick wall. She shivered from the brisk air before pulling the blanket tighter over her shoulders to combat it. Amber eyes grew heavy as they carefully combed over each of her sleeping party members peaceful forms.

Despite all these uncomfortable conditions, she never minded taking watch for her companions. It made her grateful, able to be useful to them. As well as providing them a good night's rest. Shuro's protests of taking her shifts for her began to get tiresome, however, she appreciated his consideration for her wellbeing. 

The night went smoothly, no disturbances until rustling from the smallest sleeping bag caught her attention. Curious,  Falin sat up, however she was certain it was nothing to be alarmed over. Watching as Chilchuck rolled around in his sleep. Normally, this would not bother her, but something inside her silently told her to keep a watchful eye on the half-foot. 
As she did so, she noticed how seemingly innocent shifting turned to restless tossing and turning. Her worry solidified when his steady breaths turned to small whimpers, and his face contorted and scrunched in an unpleasant way. 

Nightmares. She thought, this had happened to Shuro the other night as well. The area they were traveling in seemed to be infested with them. No matter, Falin knew how to deal with them easily. Firstly, she crawled over to where her older brother lay asleep. Gently shaking his shoulder, whispering to him. 

"Brother... brother... please wake up." 

With a soft groan, Laios' eyes fluttered open. Seeing his sister looking worried above him caused him to sit up. 

"Falin, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm alright, it's Mr. Chilchuck, he seems to be having nightmare troubles. Will you watch over me while I go into his dreams?"

Laios turned his attention to Chilchuck now, who lay a decent distance away from the group. He was always like that, kept his distance, and kept conversations to business purposes only. Not that anyone minded, his sore attitude about everything didn't make him the easiest to get along with. 

"Yeah, sure, of course." Laios stretched, yawning before he sat up. Following his sister to Chilchuck's bedroll. 

Falin carried her pillow under her arm, before gently placing it on top of Chilchuck. Moving it long ways so it wouldn't cover his whole body. She laid her head down, but gently and just on the edge of the pillow. Not wanting to put too much weight on his small, relatively thinner body. 

"We should be fine, but keep an eye out just in case, okay?" Falin smiled to her brother, her eyes already feeling drowsy. 

Laios nodded, "I got it."

Chilchuck began to break out into a sweat. His teeth grinding together as his body trembled. Falin could feel it through the pillow, which only heightened her worries. Saying a small prayer in her mind that would hopefully bless her with the gift of sleep faster, before finally closing her eyes. 


_____

 

Man, I'm tired, Chilchuck thought to himself. His boots crunched against the gravel path as he walked the short distance from the main road to his house. The last job he had just finished went sour, causing the party composed of majority strong races to storm out on him. Angry that all the chests he had unlocked for them were empty. Claiming he was holding out on them despite having no reason to. What idiots. None of that mattered now, because he was home.

Although the house he was approaching wasn't the home he created with his wife and three children. It was the home he had grown up in, the one where he lived with his two younger brothers, his mother, and his alcoholic father for a short period of time. The place where his older sister and brother would visit once a year with their own children. However, that realization did not make its way to Chilchuck's mind. It was home. Plain and simple. 

As he approached the door, he felt his stomach drop as he saw a small heap of blue and white fabric laying on the door step. The front door ajar, and the figure lay halfway in. 
The backpack he carried dropped to the floor as he rushed to her side. His wife. He hadn't needed to see her face to know it was her, the black curls that accompanied the soft blue dress was enough evidence. 
He called her name, but got no reply in return. Dropping to his knees, he reached to hold her, to see what had happened. The blood seeping from her stomach was pooling around them, staining his hands forever as he demanded what happened. 

"No..." her voice raspy as she could barely keep her eyes open to look at him. 

"Wh-what? No- what do you mean no?!" His voice was a blend of panic and rage as he spoke. Confused and now angry as she tried to push him away. Chilchuck had always known he wasn't the world's most perfect husband, but he was not cruel enough to warrant any thought from his wife that he might've been the reason she currently lay in a bath of her own blood. 

"The girls..." she managed before choking, couching as blood sputtered from her once pink lips. Now drained of color following the rest of her already naturally milky skin. Her body resembling a talking corpse.
With a shaky and weakened hand, she lifted her finger to the door. 

All at once, everything clicked into place. The girls. My daughters. My babies. 

In an instant he was back on his feet, practically tearing the door down with how fast he entered. Looking around, the whole house looked like it had been raided by orc soldiers that had just returned from war. Dread filled Chilchuck, making his chest pained and heavy as he began to search the house. It was not long until he found what he was searching for. 

His three daughters, only teenagers by half-foot maturities, lay motionless on the carpet of the common room. Blood painted the walls like a toddler's personal art project. Cracks and chunks from the material itself had somehow gone missing. However, the first thing he noticed about the crime scene, besides the obvious, was the giant ax lodged into the wall above his kin's head. An ax he knew well to belong to one of the dwarfs in the party that had been enraged with him just a few hours before. 
Nevertheless, revenge or who the culprit was was not on his mind. With a limped stride, he made his way to them. Shaking, pained breaths wracking through his body. His knees giving out from the shaking, having to force himself to crawl the rest of the way. 

Cuts, bruises, gashes, and what looked to be broken bones littered their once flawless, lively bodies. Streams of blood poured from each of their mouths. Flertom had the most blood on her light-colored dress, slowly seeping into the fabric like a sponge, turning it an unsettling scarlet color. Iconic, her favorite color had been deep red since she was a baby. 

"Mei... Fler... Puck..." His eyes widen as his voice broke and cracked. 

Unable to take all three of them in his arms, he moved them so each of their heads fit nuzzled into his lap. No tears found their way to his eyes, the panic and pain felt like it had halted all bodily functions permanently. 

Trembling hands gently caressed their necks and lower jaws. Testing each pulse as he had done with careless adventurers many times before. Never in his life could he have dreamt of using the technique on his own children. Let alone in their own home, when their biggest crime was simply being of his blood. The cause of their horrid deaths being that he loved them, and that people knew how much he loved them. 

Dry sobs broke from him as two delicate fingers moved from girl to girl. Ending at the end of the line with Puckpatti, the realization that he felt nothing under the pads of his finger tips settling. Not even with his heightened senses could he feel even the slightest breath of a pulse. 

A strangled cry filled the room as he hunched over. His body draping over them like a blanket. As if he were protecting them from the world, something he had failed to do. Failing to do the most basic promise as a father to his children. Clutching at their clothes in fists as if that would somehow ground him. 

The love of his life as well as his babies, the most important things in a thousand lifetimes to him, were just stolen from him. All because of some greedy adventurers who didn't like that he had not rained riches upon them. Something that was not even his fault, they were the dimwits who went against his advice and traveled down passages of the dungeons that had been rummaged through hundreds of times over the years since this dungeon had been founded. 

As he mourned, a snowy white dove entered from above. Landing on the floor in front of him. Seemingly purposeful about where it chose to stand. Out of the way of any of the blood and gore around them. Chilchuck slowly looked up, his eyes painfully red as he continued to heave. Him and the peaceful bird made eye contact, part of his felt like it was speaking to him. However he didn't understand what exactly it was saying, but when it rose in the air once more, his previous grief seemed to momentarily subside. 
Pulling himself to his feet, he felt inclined to follow. With shaky steps, he followed the dove. Reaching out with a limp hand as if asking it to come back. He was not sure why he felt inclined to follow it, his family had just been slaughtered, but here he was chasing a bird like a mindless fool. 

Stumbling to keep up, the pretty dove led him out the door. He was so focused on the dove itself he hadn't realized how far they'd gone. Until everything seemed to be melting together around him. Colors mixing together before falling away completely, leaving behind a white void. The white light around him grew brighter and brighter, his skin feeling warm and hyperaware before-

 


He woke up. With a heavy gasp, Chilchuck rose. Inhaling sharply, causing him to cough. He hacked as he looked around the dimly lit campsite. The sight of Falin rising as well, after just lying on his stomach, had only confused him more. Beating his chest before finally catching his breath, he cringed as he realized how sweaty he was. Causing his whole body to be locked in a constant chill.

"What-what the hell.." he called coughing, looking to Falin and Laios. 

Without a word, Laios reached under Chilchuck's pillow, pulling out a handful of the clam-like dragons known as nightmares. Before tossing them under his shoe and crushing them. 

"Nightmares." Laios sighed, "must've slipped in your pillow when you went to grab water."

Chilchuck groaned, his head falling into his hands as he rubbed his temples. Just great. He knew how Falin dealt with nightmares, therefore, he knew she saw what had happened. The idea that this newer party he had recently contracted with now possibly knew of his family did not ease his racing heart in the slightest. Only causing the possibility of his nightmare becoming a reality. Sitting there, taking a moment to catch his breath. Logic quickly settled his mind. All three of his daughters were grown and out on their own. Each far away, living their own lives. As for his wife, she was also long gone. Off to live with Flertom, whether it was a break or a wordless breakup, he still wasn't sure. However, now was most certainly not the time to dwindle over his strained marriage. 

"Thanks.." he muttered, refusing to look Falin in the eyes, partly due to his own shame at the forced show of pure vulnerability. 

"Of course." Falin smiled her signature, heart melting smile. 


________


The group walked down the long hall way. Laios talking Shuro half to death in the front. Namari trailing behind, bickering with Asivia about something Chilchuck didn't bother to tune into. 
Him and Falin walked side by side a short way towards the back, now would be a better time than any. He thought to himself before clearing his throat to catch the young woman's attention. 

"Uh- Falin?" 

Falin looked down at him, "yes?"

A tingling heat already found his cheeks as he looked to the side, trying to ignore it.
"Um.. do you remember what you saw in my nightmare last night..?"

She nodded, "somewhat. I remember the massacre, but not many of the details, like the women's features or the home. I am truly sorry you had to endure that. I should have noticed your discomfort sooner." 
The sincerity and guilt in her voice only made Chilchuck more uncomfortable. Coughing again, he put on a voice as if to fake some sort of confident authority. 

"Uh well. If you could, not discuss what you saw. I would really appreciate it." 

Falin stared at him for a moment before smiling again with her pure smile. 
"Of course. In fact, consider the incident completely forgotten." She chirped before turning back to the path. 

Chilchuck exiled softly, that was easy. However, this was Falin. He hadn't expected less. Now if it were Marcille who had gone into his dream, he thought he'd rather deal with the entire dream by himself and gladly let the clam feast upon his fears. Honestly, if he were forced to share that scaring mental image with anyone in this particular party, he would've chosen Falin anyway. He believed her words she had spoke to him a moment ago, she would not tell another soul. It seemed even if she did so, it wouldn't be much help to use against him anyway.
Relaxing, in a more contempt state now, he couldn't help but still feel a small pang in his heart. Despite how awful the nightmare was, it had made him realize something about himself. Working nonstop constantly, he never really had moments to himself. Which never gave him a clear moment to think about just how much he missed them.

[funnyexel]

A Routine

Brahms x Black Female Reader

Your eyes gaze down at the bloody glass shard sitting in his palm. He inched closer to you and you couldn’t help your unease.

“please don’t hurt me.” Your croak out, lip quivering as you look up to the grown man. His presence was eerie, intimidating and the blood on the sleeve of his cardigan wasn’t helping. Your jaw slacked in the slightest when his voice drastically changed to a school boys. Calling out your name, it was freaky to witness. He just stabbed your ex and you’re studying the change in his voice, its pretty comical. That little shit was an asshole anyway so technically, he had it coming.

“hurt…” he tilted his head to side, “..you?” stating a rhetorical question in his boy voice of course.

“Never.” He steps up, standing against you, a deep rumble and dominance in his regular voice. Full sentences escape your vocabulary when you stumble over simple words and shiver in fear. At your constricted body language, he drops the shard to the ground and sneaks his palms in your hands.

“I’ll be good. I will.” His attempt at reassurance was cute. Maybe it convinced you, maybe not.

“brahms.” His name fell like honey from your lips. A mere whisper of his name making him want you more.

“yes, pretty?” He matches your discretion, leaning down to your right to admire your features. Squeezing his hands, you chuckle dryly. When in an awkward situation you laugh stiffly and you could jump off a cliff because of the dumb habit. Releasing your hand and using his finger to move a braid behind your ear, he tilts your chin up softly. An acute whimper muffles through the mask. Your chest rises and falls roughly as you try to compose yourself.

“your hand..” you hesitate to let go of his other hand, infested with foreign blood.

“it hurts,” that damned voice is beginning to work on you. Looking down to his hand, your facial features display mountains of concern.

“no, here.” His hand travels down his stomach and over his pants. Your eyes shoot up to his shadowed irises. You need to get out of this, you tell yourself. With a moment of hesitation you remember the rules.

“brahms, you’ve been bad..” You scold to entice him and continue, “it’s way past bath-time.” Crossing your arms over your chest you hope to sell it. Walking up the steps, pausing briefly as his footsteps shadow behind you. Walking in the bathroom, you turn the faucet and plug the tub. As the water fills up halfway, you put a rag on the side of the tub and face him.

“well?” You swallow thickly.

“take off your clothes.” He does exactly that, stripping his top off first. Eyeing his toned stomach, a line parts his pecks, moving down his chest in a faint definition of a six pack and small waist, a treat. Closing your eyes when he gets to his pants, you only open them when the water splashes and swooshes around. Task of getting him to bathe wasn’t hard but it’s not the goal. The goal is to leave.

“Um, I’ll go find some clothes for you.” You project, rising from your position and detangling your hands from his hair. In the midst of it all, he grabs your forearm. A small yelp leaving your lips.

Skepticism clouding the air, searching your pupils he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for and lets you free, reluctantly. Walking out the tight space, you let out a deep breath, speed walking to your bag and shoving the important stuff in it. Your passport, wallet, phone, some clothing and keys…keys? Your eyes dart from the closet where you just looked and the dresser. This cannot be happening. Running to the dresser, you search the drawers two at a time. Under your breath profanities fly at your frustration. Your busy mind seems to notice the shadow to the right of you. Jumping out your skin and clenching your chest, you eye the figure in the corner. A breath of relief turns to a light stressed laugh.

“I didn’t think finding clothes would be this hard.” You cannot stop yourself from chuckling when you turn your back to the dresser, closing the five open drawers. He doesn’t move. Maybe you can make a run for it? The thought immediately shakes from your mind, his dripping hair and droplets glistening on his hairy skin indicates he hurriedly rushed out the bath, you weren’t being necessarily quiet once you started to panic. Taking heavy steps to you, your hands grip on the top of the mahogany dresser. Cranking your neck up to him, you swear you feel your blood count decrease when he grips your bicep. His four fingers rapping around his thumb easily when he yanks you with him. Your feet digging into the floor along the way.

“brahms.” Your small voice attempts to sound intimidating. Throwing you recklessly against the headboard, his arms drop at either side of his body, his breathing rugged as he shakes his head.

“you broke the rules.” His knee nudges into the edge of the bed, a hand lazily lying on your ankle.

“I…what rule?” You peal yourself off the cushiony board.

“my rule,” his towel shifts lower on his waist as he inched close, “don’t leave,” his voice mean and grown, anger coursing through him. Not giving you a breath to fabricate a lie as your strenuous gasps full the room.

“Tell me you won’t leave me. Tell Me!” He shakes you roughly, his voice the only thing your mind can register. Both your hands struggle to pry his paws off your neck.

“I…won’t,” your vision is plagued by small black dots and specs of static, “leave you��please.” You succeed in wiggling a finger in the tight grip for a small breath of air. Only for a whimper to leave your vocal cords when he crushes it too. The fight, defiance turns to submission as your arm falls limp to your sides. Blinking in and out of a black sadness.

“I’m sorry,” he hurriedly lets your neck free and holds you in a strangling embrace, his voice soft once more. Nose buried into his chest, smelling of fresh soap and vanilla. You lay stiff in his arms as he incloses your body to his. When he lets you go, you avoid eye contact and take in many breaths. Thankful for oxygen.

“it’s bedtime brahms,” you sigh, slumping your shoulders when you get off the bed. He watches you closely as you leave the cushiony oasis, taking regular steps towards the drawers. Flicking the light switch the room gets pitch black, feeling through the clothes you get your sleeping shirt. Stripping off your top and bra, you throw on the new top. A small lamp clicks on when you bend over to take off your pants. You knew he wasn’t going to leave the room so you didn’t bother to ask. Slipping into the bed, you see his towel hanging on the side table and stay on your part of the bed.

“hm..,” he pulls the covers from you to get your attention.

“yes, brahms,” you mumble, not moving from your position.

“kiss…,” he finally spits out what he was trying to say. Turning to him, you shift the covers off you and lean down to swiftly kiss the cheek of his porcelain mask.

“goodnight,” you manage to slump against the headboard before he grabbed your wrist.

“Kiss,” he demands, his voice normal and whiny as he sits up.

“I just gave you a kiss brahms,” you roll your eyes at him, earning a tighter grip on your arm. He grips the bottom of the glass and pulls it up off his face. The lamp illuminating a small part of his face and darkness consuming the other. Your pupils slightly widen at his features, they match his body and his skin looks soft to the touch.

“Kiss. Now,” he yanks you towards him, letting go of your wrist. Looking at his lips they’re a little chapped but moist in the middle, he was licking them. Putting one hand on the bed and the other on his bare chest, your lips connect. Warm mouths on top of each other in a ginger kiss. As your looking to lean back, he holds the back of your waist. Pulling you closer and splitting your lips to slip his tongue in your mouth. Gripping the sheets, it feels fleshy and hairy. He moans in your mouth, tilting his head to the side and you let go of his thigh. You attempt to keep the kissing at bay but his eagerness wasn’t helping. Breathing heavily through your nose, you push his chest so he could get off you. Gasping for air as your chest pumps up and down. He watches closely, pupils dilated and breathing irregular.

“night..brahms,” you exclaim between breaths.

“it hurts,” he whimpers, “fix it,” he looks down and your eyes follow, only this time you didn’t look away. Thickly swallowing, you spit in your palm, moving the sheets out the way, rapping your palm and fingers around his dick. Sharply he inhales at the touch, looking up to him, you move your hand up and down in slow motions. His body getting jittery with you in front of him, your big eyes making his cock twitch in your hands. Watching you lick your lips made him muffle a moan, his balls begging to be emptied somewhere.

Smoothing your thumb around his pink mushroom tip, you feel an ache between your legs at the precum beading down his veiny dick. His hands jerk to the hem of your shirt and roughly yanks it off. As he leans back against the headboard, he pulls you into his lap and goes stiff. Like he doesn’t know what to do next. Kneeling over him, you move your panties aside, wiping all the precum off his tip and smushing it around your two fingers. Trapping a moan in your throat when you coax your hole with his lube. As he watched you with wide attentive eyes, his hands begin to shake at his sides. Lining his dick up with his entrance, you sit yourself down on him. Successfully being waist to waist with him.

“so, m’ warm,” he breathes heavy, squeezing the plush of your thighs. Fingertips moving up and down, feeling the textures and wavy lines of your stretch marks. Your hips moving back and forth against him, moaning in guilty pleasure. It was horrible. But you loved it and cannot leave. He is too fragile, too broken, too sensitive for you to leave him alone. And he fucks so good. He satisfies you so you don't leave him and honestly, it works. You are in love with him. You will never leave him. And no one will ever take you away from him.

more writing

[glennrheesworld]

Request: ugh anyone x reader but the reader is really shy, and they yell at the reader and the reader cries 😣😣 but comfort and stuff

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲~

genre: angst to fluff pairing: Carl Grimes x reader (gender not specified) summary: Reader goes outside the walls to get Carl a birthday gift but gets injured, making Carl concern. warnings: mentions of blood, yelling, & crying

a/n: sorry for the long wait @dreamtofus, I hope you guys enjoy this request!!

You have always been the shy type, even in an apocalypse infested with the walking dead.

You had grown pretty close with everyone in the group over the past years, but it didn’t make your shyness disappear.

As Carl's birthday approached, you decided to venture outside the walls of Alexandria to find a special gift for him, comic books. Even though you knew it wasn't a great idea, considering the potential threat of Walkers or worse, people, you managed to sneak past the gates without being caught.

The plan was simple. Find a bookstore, get a few comic books, arrive back safe, and wait to surprise Carl until his birthday. You had it all figured out and expected it to go out smoothly. But it didn’t.

Once you had arrived, you were soaking wet from the rain, shivering with chattering teeth, and a small fresh cut on your leg. How did you get it? Well, you fought a few Walkers before tripping over one of them, just to feel the metal of a car part scratch your leg. Your favorite jeans had ripped all thanks to the wet concrete and that damn Walker. But you still got Carl’s gift in your bag.

You had managed to sneak past Daryl near the gates into Carl’s house, which you shared with him. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you slowly sneak past the kitchen, but unfortunately for you, your shoes squeak. Carl turns and spots you, soaked and trembling.

“Babe?” The sound of his voice makes you flinch. “Uh, hey…” You try offering a short smile at him. His eyes trail down from your wet hair to your clothes and finally to the ripped leg of your jeans.

His brows furrowed as he notices the cut on your leg, little blood staining the ripped fabric. “What happened to you? And where were you?” He asks you with confusion and concern.

You stood still, your gaze dropping to the floor as you fist your wet hands to your sides. “I’m okay.” You mumble, staring at your wound, not really feeling much but a tiny sting.

“No, you’re not. You’re clearly bleeding from your leg, what happened!?” Carl’s voice slightly raises, walking towards you. “I… uhm I went outside.” You didn’t really lie, you were outside, outside the walls.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you had gone outside Alexandria, fought Walkers, and injured yourself all by getting him a birthday gift. No. You just couldn’t tell him.

Carl’s face scrunch in anger and shock, “You went outside!?” His eyes shift around with furrowed brows, clearly angry that you went outside by yourself. “Are you out of your mind? You went outside the walls and hurt yourself!”

The sudden raise of his voice makes you flinch slightly, your shoulders dropping and eyes glossing. “It's dangerous out there! What if a Walker bit you or what if someone killed you!?” He adds on, turning his head as he points to the door.

Keeping your face down, you sniff. You avoid looking him in the eye as you bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. Sometimes you wish you weren’t this sensitive. You sniff again before feeling tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes.

“Why would you put yourself in danger? Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive right now—”

“I just wanted to get you a birthday gift,” you let out a small sob, lifting your teary gaze to Carl’s eyes. “I didn't mean to worry you." You bring a cold hand to wipe your tears, feeling frustrated.

Seeing your tears start to fall, Carl's expression softens as his anger disappears. Feeling guilty for being the cause of your tears, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you into a tight hug, not caring if you’re soaked and dripping from the rain. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t cry more.

You nuzzle into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body slowly spread to your body. “I’m sorry, okay?” He softly whispered, his hands around your waist. “It’s too risky out there, you know that.”

Letting out soft cries, you tighten your arms over his back, pulling him closer. He speaks again, pulling away to see your face. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice is gentle with care, compared to a few moments ago.

Carl’s warm hands cup your face, staring into your teary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, Carl.” You whisper back, sniffing as he smiles faintly. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.” His blue eyes search yours as you return his smile.

“You mean so much to me, I don’t ever want to imagine losing you.” He then presses his lips to yours, his thumbs caressing the side of your cheeks.

He rests your forehead against yours after pulling away, closing his eyes as he enjoys your presence. “We should get your wound fixed and then get your warm bath ready.” Carl presses a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose before you nod in agreement, now remembering how uncomfortable and sticky your clothes feels.

[reddpenn]

Do you actually have a ghost roommate? 😍

A lot of people have read a lot of things into my apparition comic. Their mental illness or their sexuality or their life experiences or a fun story about a literal, actual ghost. All of these readings are valid, and I’m happy so many people see so much of themselves in a little comic I drew. That’s what art is for, I think.

Here is what I think it is about.

Directly out of college, I moved into my first apartment. It was large, and it was cheap, and it had a lot of problems. The apartment was on the basement level of an ancient, poorly maintained building with leaks and mold and broken plumbing and a roach infestation, and neighbors who screamed constantly and threw things at each other and played their thumping, building-vibrating bass music until 5 a.m. The only windows were small and set high into the wall. The view was of parking lot asphalt at eye level. Very little natural light. It was the kind of miserable place that you lived because you didn’t have the money to live somewhere better.

But I lived there for eight years. I hit so many major life milestones in that apartment. I made good memories and bad memories. I broke down sobbing. I laughed so hard I cried. I broke up with my girlfriend. I lived with my best friend. I lived all alone for the first time. I played my first game of Dungeons and Dragons. I attended my brother’s wedding. I got a promotion. I quit my job. I got a better job. I held my baby niece in my arms. I decided to fill the place with rocks. I filled the place with rocks! Over the years I put bits and pieces of myself into it until it turned from a cheap apartment full of hand-me-down dorm room furniture into a home. My home. My first nice new couch. My paintings and photographs hanging on the walls. Everything in my favorite color, because it could be, because it was mine. When I looked at all that, I would think, I like my little apartment, actually.

My relationship with my apartment was complicated. I was stuck in a bad place and learning to live with it, to deal with the annoying parts and embrace the good parts and build a home made of little compromises. I don’t think I consciously registered, when I started sketching my little apparition, that she stood for all of that. I think that’s why you never see her bottom half, why she’s always extruding from the walls or the floor. She is a place. She is a relationship with a place.

I moved out of that apartment two months ago. I am so relieved to leave it behind. It was horrible. I worked so hard to escape it, but the place I live now - so much nicer, so much quieter, with a view of the woods through the big picture windows - contains none of my soul. It will eventually. But eight years of a life is a lot of soul to leave behind.

And I think I did leave my apparition behind. She was, after all, a place. The new place and I will work on building a new one.

[hoy35]

Theories surrounding how the mushrooms in Anura are not the creation of Heket

In my comic series Fairy ring, I mentioned that the Menticide Mushrooms are not the creation of Heket, and the main storyline is associated to this setting. Although you could look at it as a feature in an alternative universe, I do believe that this may be how things unravel in the official game... (It may be disproven. After all, it's just a non-canon theory.)

Prof 1: The Serpent's Tablet

The Serpent is a key character that only appeared in the DLC in the form of "offering the truth to the Lamb". They are mentioned to be the greatest fanatics in the BGM and the comment of the Five Bishops, they worship and defend the Great Ones, which refers to the Gods who created the world in COTL, and tries to unearth their past.

In their fifth tablet, the Serpent documented that they discovered a place with a Godly skull, with small mushrooms that have spots like eyes around it.

(Shamura made their debut in the seventh tablet.)

This could be referring to Sozo's place in the realm of Anura, where there is a giant skull.

In the background, there are birch trees with red eyes.

This shape seems like the "all seeing eye", but there is one alteration: the line representing the eye crosses the lower eyelid by a great length. My friend adds that "this makes the eye resemble the shape of a mushroom".

(P.S. There are also different symbols of eyes in Kallamar and Leshy's realms, I also have theories surrounding them, but let's not get into it in this article.)

Although this shape is scattered across Anura, it seems that Heket may be trying to suppress it. Unlike Leshy, who directly mentioned that the chaotic flowers in his realm are not his creations, Heket did not mention whether she appears earlier or later than Menticide Mushrooms. But... since it already appeared by the time the Serpent is still alive, Heket probably should not be credited for the creation of these mushrooms.

Prof 2: backgrounds during the crusade

I don't know if the background assets would appear randomly and there are actually more backgrounds for one type of map, but let's assume that there are only one type of background for each type of room background.

In this case, there are actually changes in Anura for regular background and purged version. Last time I checked, Anchordeep seems to be the same in both forms. Darkwood may have changed a little. Please allow me to make further testing before reaching a final conclusion.

So, the first thing we see is the candles lit on small, white tree trunks. This may be Heket's attempt to suppress birch trees, which would be infested with mushrooms in the background.

If the trunks grow further, it would show signs of the same red eye-shapes. Furthermore, there are no complete birch trees in the game foreground. They are all chopped or suppressed.

Someone has to put the candles there. I don't think regular followers would dare to touch their beloved leaders' creations. Therefore, it may be the order of Heket towards diciples and followers to do so.

There is also a mushroom in the background with frog eggs atop. Other mushrooms do not have the same shape of red lines on it. The shape looks like an eye sewed together...

Next, let's look at one room that has changed in regular and purged versions ——the giant frog skull room.

First, let me ask you, have you seen giant spider, squid, or worm skulls in her siblings' realms? The answer is no, right? (There are giant skulls of other species, though)

Even if there are skulls or corpses of the same species of the Bishops, they are usually in simpler form.

But these giant frog skulls have exactly four eyes, something not even Heket's followers or disciples have.

It's as if the game is hinting at her demise, and Heket may be using these followers to predict how much time she had left due to the infection.

In addition, in the background, the purged version had visibly more birch trees and visibly more mushrooms grown out of these trees.(You may zoom-in to see the pictures above)

Due to her absence, no one is still suppressing the Great One. Therefore, the trees and mushrooms begin to grow wild.

The initial room for the crusade and the sacrificial room also changed. There are dense birch tree forest in the background in purged version of Anura. I forgot to take pictures, though. *cries

Prof 3: Heket's "tatoos"

The red eyes happened to grow around her wound, where it's assumed to be the weakest. Therefore, it would be more like an infection than fashion choice.

In addition, making tatoos around her wounds would be linked to painism. It's probably too painful.

The eye patterns also disappear when she is in purged form. Maybe the God no longer feels the need to infest and pester her because she is no longer in charge?

In purged form, the mushroom surrounding her statue also dies.

Also, her follower form seems to have healed from the infection. Or it may just be the creators being lazy and not adding details.

Prof 4: Heket never mentioned associations to Menticide Mushrooms in her conversations. The game let SOZO tell the lamb about it instead.

In addition, Heket got mad when the lamb handed her mushrooms after the indoctrination. Although we usually interpret it as her getting angry because lamb is being pitiful to her, it might also be that she hates these mushrooms? Maybe that still makes sense?

The game seems keen on making little word-plays. Like how Forneus mentioned "how can you say no to a God". Before the DLC, we just assumed that she ment Narinder. But eventually Shamura confessed that they were the one who took away the kittens. So the "God" was actually referring to them.

This may be the same for Heket's case?

I believe that prior to Narinder's betrayal, Heket was doing a good job suppressing the God under the instruction of Shamura. But … due to her injusry, she slowly faded and by the time Lamb appears, Anura is in such a worse state. Also, despite Kallamar and Leshy are also suppressing Gods in their realm, the madness in Anura does not mean that Heket is weak or anything. This God is the most active one, and has begun to be active long before Shamura was even born. It might be the hardest chore for the siblings, and healthy Heket was handling it just fine. So... bad kitty!!! Bad!!

Also, if this theory were to be true, then Narinder would be doing her a favor by killing her prior to her death from the fungus infection. Good job, kitty!

Ok that concludes my theory. If you have anything to prove or disprove it, feel free to tell me!!!

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BATMAN | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

—

“Long Overdue” (Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on an ambush when they’re overwhelmed.

-Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action, cursing, past death of a child, Reader & Bruce are divorced, -angry!reader

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source: Batman - Three Jokers comic)

| 1k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Bruce clears his throat for the third time in ten minutes.

In contrast you roll your eyes for the third time in just as long before bending over to switch on the A/C. The Batmobile got stale whenever Bruce started binging. The vehicle not smelling like old blood and sweat stopped being important once your ex husband neglected his duties as Bruce Wayne.

Once upon a time that negligence would have worried you. Still does even if you vehemently tamp it down.

Another clearing of his throat.

“Spit it out already.” You hold your arm tighter to your chest at a bump in the road as you watch him, bullet wound treated rudimentarily enough to hold you over until you get to the cave but still adding to the scent of blood.

Bruce isn't a meta-human; he still emoted even if he did it in such small increments that the untrained eye wouldn’t catch on. You were far from untrained though; you’ve been speaking Bruce almost as long as Alfred has and so you see the twist of fearangersorrow that flashes across his face.

The same damn twist of fearangersorrow from the last days of you and Bruce’s relationship. This time around your stomach doesn’t drop and your body doesn’t flare, mirroring those same emotions. You don’t answer Bruce's natural pull at all in fact, only sigh as you do your best to keep your arm from jarring.

“I didn’t come here to fight. Say what you want.”

Not that you expected to get much leeway on that front. Asking Bruce to communicate without a million half truths was like asking a baby to scrape the paint off thirty feet walls. It could be done technically, it would just take a lot of patience and outside assistance.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, gloves creaking, before he works through the motions of forcing himself to relax.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Bruce, when's the last time I liked anything that came out your mouth?”

“You were on a video call with Dick and you laughed when I was complaining about that mite infestation in the cave.”

Of course he would remember that, living filing system that he was.

“Yeah, I was laughing at you,” you clarify with a tiny snort and Bruce gives you his faint smile.

“I know,” he says voice gone soft. You have to clench your eyes shut against the onslaught of emotions that tone elicits. How long has it been since you’ve heard it? “I'm…sorry.”

You don’t think he’s talking about the joke.

“Bruce-”

“I know,” he repeats before pausing. You recognize the active way he’s composing himself and something in you can’t help but to shrivel up. What could be so bad that he's acting nearly as off as when he had to explain how Joker killed your son to you?

Your heart pumps faster in your chest like it wants to run away from the impending news, and you have to open your mouth so that your breaths don’t begin to stutter. No more, not after Jason, you can’t take another death.

In an attempt to avoid the nearing collision of your anger and worry at Bruce gearing up to drop yet another bomb on you and straight up verbally expressing he’s sorry about it beforehand - which what the hell? - you run through what you know.

He could just be acting funny about a shared account you forgot to separate. That’s always a possibility. You focus on keeping your breathing level.

You’d seen Dick and heard from Babs tonight, talked to Dick on how to not burn down his house whilst cooking just three afternoons ago and he’d mentioned Alfred doing fine then. Hopefully that still rings true. The newest Robin that’d been dragged out of a collapsing building last week would still be recovering and no one had mentioned Timothy adding to his injuries so it likely wasn’t him that had Bruce like this, and you haven’t heard anything negative or otherwise about Batgirl.

Even this new Red Hood guy didn’t seem to be much of a problem outside of you not knowing who the hell he is and him being all up in your business earlier. You’d take a lot of shit over the dysfunctionality of you and Bruce’s relationship, but not from a stranger. Besides, you weren’t omniscient - that was more Alfred’s deal - so you weren’t exactly the best gauge on the greater intentions of the city’s newest crime boss. You made a habit of not looking too closely at Gotham’s vigilante scene if you could help it.

Joker did go by that once though, right before his metamorphic dip in a vat of acid green, but you knew it wasn’t the clown under that helmet. For one, Joker didn’t fight with Hood’s brute strength and honed finesse and secondly you knew for a fact the green haired bastard was in Arkham right now. Alive and well.

Your hands clench at the reminder.

“You let him live!”

“We are not executioners, Y/n!”

“Uh uh. Absolutely not, that’s where you’ve got me fucked up.” You take a deep breath before gesturing towards the expanse of Gotham. “When you choose over and over for this man to live you are explicitly signing everyone else’s death sentences, and how you don’t see that is beyond me.”

The way Bruce shakes his head is almost reflexive.

“We always stop him before he can do anything like that.”

“Oh really? Always? Because I got a son six feet under that says otherwise, and last time I checked so do you.”

Bruce twitches. “We don’t trade lives.”

You stare at him, your frustration a harsh nearly livable thing at that moment. The memory of him throwing you off the Joker, of the screaming match afterwards, makes your tongue taste like ash.

“Sure we do,” you murmur. “You just won’t see it that way.”

“We. Don’t. Stoop. To their level, Nightfall,” he accentuates gruffly and just as suddenly as it came your anger rushes away with the next gust of wind that lashes at your face.

An argument on methodology is not what you came here for. You're furious about The Joker, you have no doubt you always will be, but that fury isn’t what drove you to hunting Bruce down on a random rooftop. Joker isn’t what got you back in your suit on this night. Bruce is.

Bruce Batman who’s clearly getting ready to turn this into a thing again.

“Bruce. Bruce stop it.”

You look at him. Really look at him for the first time in weeks and something just…clicks. Bruce and you have been standing at a precipice this whole time. This was it. How Bruce handled Jay’s death was either going to make or break you. And if Dick going virtually no contact had been the trial run the continual state of your marriage wasn’t looking too good. No more kids to patch up the cracks. No more looking away from new cracks formed.

Your mask gets pulled off a second later.

“My baby is dead, Bruce. We had to bury our mangled son today and you want to go out and be Batman when Bruce Wayne is needed at home. I don’t want to argue philosophies, I want you to leave the cape at the door and be here for me as my husband.”

Problem was that Bruce hadn’t been able to do both, and by the end of that interaction you’d punched him for it. Punched him for your son too. One failed attempt and all of a sudden he couldn’t kill Jason’s killer or let you do it for the both of you. No, he’d cracked down instead. It would be inexcusable and he’d clash with you the whole way.

You can admit to yourself that you gave up because you didn’t want to be faced with the possibility of Bruce throwing you in jail over the Joker. He’d stopped you from wiping him from the earth three times at that point, who’s to say he wouldn’t have eventually caved and gotten you committed?

Bruce couldn’t balance being the husband to a grieving wife and being the grieving father of a murdered son. Couldn’t handle being Bruce Wayne when The Batman was so much simpler; easier to hide behind than confronting everything. So he retreated.

In a way you understood, the death of a child wasn’t something you walked away from at all in some cases and it certainly changed you in every situation, but you were supposed to have been able to deal with that blow together.

Bruce’s voice, tight and broad, less Bruce and more Bat once more, brings you out of your head.

“A few weeks ago the Red Hood made his presence known after an undisclosed amount of time hiding below the radar in Gotham with a duffel bag full of severed heads.”

You hum lightly having already known this. Dick got chatty when he was stressed.

“A few days after that Red Hood and I got in an altercation wherein he unmasked and gave me his blood and fingerprints. Both that I then tested…”

Behind your mask you squint, breath rushing out of you as another possibility you hadn’t dared to let yourself think comes to mind. Grief’s most dangerous wish. You start shaking your head. It's a useless attempt to not let the pieces come together.

“The results matched that of Jason Todd’s,” there’s a moment of brief wrenching stillness before he adds quieter, as if his veneer of control has suddenly been punched out of him. “Our Jason….”

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! Comments would be appreciated if you wanted to leave one! I read all of them, I only don’t respond cause this is a side blog.

P.S.: It’s gonna come off like I hate Bruce in the later chapters (only sometimes irl) so yeah. Apparently I’m just getting out some general Bruce frustrations with this, so fair warning. This is not a happy ending for his ass.

[otherloser]

Romance Starts With The Stomach

Okay, so this is kinda my first story, like, EVER, on Tumblr, so please don't shit on me if it's bad, I am very aware of that myself, thanks 👍

Anyway, I basically came up with this story because I recently had soup (it was so good like holy crap), there's soup in BaTIM, and I remembered the line 'the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach' that Tiana says from Princess and The Frog, so yeah, I thought it would be cute :]

Fem!Reader x Ink!Bendy

Story: Y/n and Bendy have ended up accidentally making a magical contracting bond between their souls, meaning that they can't hurt each other and are sort of stuck together in the abandoned studio. They've been sort of ignoring each other for the main part up until now, but there's some bad news; Y/n is getting hungry, and she needs to eat…

~~~~

"Grooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwl..." A noise resembling much like a distant thunder strike rumbled and echoed through the corridor. A dusting of blush crept up onto my face, placing a hand on my abdomen and pressing down hard to try and muffle the complaining my stomach was making in the absence of the food it so desperately desired. This only made it worse however, appearing to instead push my middle into making even more sounds of winging and whining. The ink demon himself finally seemed to notice, his tail whipping at the air elegantly as he turned and blinked with inky and gooey eyes.

"...'S tha' you, lady?"

"Y-yeah, sorry, I haven't eaten in a while..." I mumbled apologetically, reaching into my satchel at last. "We've been running around so much, so I haven't had the chance to have a snack break."

"Figures. You humans are always hungry fo' somethin' or othah." He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in a snarky tone. He'd maintained this attitude for basically the entire time. Like a fed up teenager being forced to go shopping with his mother. It was frankly pathetic, but hey, he was a demon so there wasn't much I could do, unless I wanted to be mildly inconvenienced with his unholy rage. As I rummaged around for even something small like a chocolate bar or a biscuit, my hand became more frantic, until I quickly realised. I had nothing left. My middle roared again for food.

"groooooooowl!!!"

"Uh oh.."

"W-whaddya mean 'uh-oh'?"

"I'm out. I have nothing to eat!" I explained, showing Bendy my empty bag as he leaned in and inspected it closely, grumbling to himself as seeming much more peeved with each second that my stomach called out in starvation. He brought his hand up to his face, using two fingers to massage the area between his eyes where a nose should be.

"Well that's just peachy."

"Groooooowl!"

"This is a really sticky situation 'ere."

"Grooooowwl!!"

"Bendy-"

"Seems you've gone an but the dust!"

"GROOOOWL!"

"Dude! Stop using those words, it's actually making my stomach hurt!" I exclaimed, making the demon sigh exasperated lying and lazily raise his hands up in surrender. Suddenly a very comical light bulb physically appeared above Bendy's head, taking me be surprise.

"Follow me, I know a place to grab somethin' to bite, toots!"

"Leave my toes out of this, Bendy."

~~~~

"Come on, just try it!"

"Ew! Hell no!!" I argued, using a plank of wood to keep Bendy and his suggestion away from me; In his arms he carried a really old and raw slab of meet, clearly infested with diseases I very much did not want to risk the chance of catching.

"Oh, don't be difficult, Y/n! It's just a day or two out of date" He rolled his eyes and held up the meat towards me, visibly causing me to gag and drop the plank, jumping back and hiding behind a support beam and peeking out at the ink demon cautiously.

"Yeah! 'A day or two OUT OF THE QUESTION'!" I stated, shooing him away as he grumbled to himself in cartoon speech, before chucking the meat slab to the side impatiently, to which I sighed in relief.

"I mean honestly, you mortals are so sensitive." He sassed, turning his back on me and kneeling down to inspect the drawers closely. "If you won't eat meat, you'll have to eat greens! Let's see, we have...broccoli...mushy carrots...-oh hey, an apple with a worm!"

"Gross." I whined and stuck out my tongue, watching in disgust as the inky creature scoured the cupboards for veg that was definitely as dry as wood by this point. On and on he went, listing what was there and what he liked about their staleness. I rolled my eyes, sniffing once as the air as the pangs of hunger in my stomach grew louder, only to catch a whiff of something. Something nice, veggie, meaty, brothy, edible! I sniffed the air a few more times, feeling my tummy react positively to the smell as well. All my sniffing also caught the attention of Bendy, who stood up and looked at me with a confused brow.

"Uh...are ya synisus actin' up, doll?" He asked.

"I smell something. Something..." I paused, closing my eyes and taking a long smell, before grinning brightly, "...delicious!"

And like a bullet, I was off, shooting down the corridor towards the room where the treasure was to be found. Following behind my, Bendy staggered behind, seeming to find a little trouble in keeping up with me (which was a first). Past countops and cupboards I weaved myself through the rooms, skipping down hallways until I finally came across a singular storage room that claimed host of the tempting scent. A storage room, filled with barrels, most likely filled with the most deliciously untold delicacies if it smelt this good alone! I hopped forwards and stopped in front of a barrel, opening it up hurriedly, only for my grin to drop at the sight of tin shining back up at me depressingly. Cans. A barrel full of cans. Picking up a can, I examined the label along the curve: 'Bacon Soup'.

"What'd ya find, Y/n?" Bendy asked, finally having cought up to me as I stared at the soup can, confused.

"I...what the shit is this?" I turned to him and asked, shoving the can into his gloved hands as he blinked in shock to my profanity, observing the can briefly, only to ah in realisation.

"Ah, it's bacon soup." He repeated.

"Yeah, I know what it is- why would anyone come up with it!?"

"Well, hey, I doubt there's anythin' else here, toots! You followed it's scent like a dawg, so you must like i' so SOME degree!" He defended, handing me back the can forcefully, to which I held it and opened another barrel with my free. But unfortunately, he was right, there was only more cans of bacon soup on the second barrel. I sighed in disappointment, looking back at the can in my hand, debating what to do. "...At least try i', yeah?" Bendy suggested.

"Grooooowl!" My stomach moaned. I sighed, truly defeated as I opened the can, shut my eyes tight, and took a good sip of it's contents...

...-

And within SECONDS, I was gulping down the rest of the can's delectable brothy heaven as if it were my life support! It was gorgeous, like a work of art, painted by god himself. The god of soups! I felt the smooth, syrupy texture slide down my throat and deep into my core, warming me up a pleasant amount, despite its unheated state. Finally, I removed the can from my lips and groaned loudly in pleasure to the soup's aftertaste.

"Oh my god, that's so good!" I rasped, grabbing another can and ripping the lid open, beginning to swallow the contents once more, unable to get enough! It was sooooo addictive.

"Well heeeeeelloooooooo! Y'know, I do appreciate a lady who can eat~" I heard Bendy's voice flirt with me, clearly finding my sudden addiction the the soup an amusing thing to tease me with. I couldn't give a crap though, I was just so immersed in the sanctuary that was this seductive soup.

"Ah, shut it, Satan, I'm in heaven!" I exhaled after finishing the second can, reaching for a third and sitting down on the floor with it in hand, my back pressed against the barrel surface so that I could relax. Again, I opened the can and began to wolf down the angelic and tasty substance, my life up till this point feeling almost dull compared to the very moment where I was finally rewarded with the one thing i had been missing out on this entire time: BACON SOUP! But of course, all good thinfs have to come to an end. Consuming the last of the soup from the can, I gently placed the empty tin on the floor and took a second to relax and briefly digest what saintly thing I had just experienced, my hand placed gratefully onto my belly which now remained still and silent, proving just how satisfactory the soup was in this conundrum of hunger.

"Well then, toots - are ya still hungry~?" The smirking ink demon purred, a smug grin plastered onto his face as I basked in the happiness the food had brought me, finding it impossible, for the first time ever, to even be mad with him and his teasing!

"Oh, 'hungry'? I don't recognise the meaning~" I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I enjoyed the company of the ink demon for the first time. He looked amused and happy that I was so happy after a few helpings of soup.

"Dang, tha' must've hit a reaaaaaal good spot in your stomach; you're all...smiley and stuff! Y'know, you have a nice smile, dollface~"

"Yeaaah, don't ruin it."

"Alrigh', I'll le' you have this momen' to ya'self, darlin'~"

~~~~

I mean, technically it's romantic, because Bendy's flirting the entire time? Eh, I'm counting it--

[siorca]

I called this ‘tfw you promise to watch your best friend’s kids but forgot you had a date with your long distance situationship’ in my notes

tfp pre-war

—

“Oh, hello Megatronus. Is this a bad time?”

While Orion’s visits were never exactly mandatory, he had told Megatronus of his visit to Kaon about a decacycle ago. At the time, he had seemed unbothered and eager to see him. Ever a creature of compromise, however, Orion was willing to concede defeat and return at a later date. The two mechlings hanging from Megatronus’ armor seemed a more pressing matter, if anything.

“Nonsense, Orion. Just have a bit of a scraplet infestation today.” Megatronus picked at the mechling hanging off his bicep, tiny and blue, placing him on his right shoulder. The other, a mirror image aside from being a dark red, hung from Megatronus’ opposite shoulder pouldron, biting at the metal with small, sharp sparkling teeth.

Megatronus did not seem any more bothered than usual with their presence, his thick armor probably protecting him from the brunt of curious sparkling mouths and claws. The image the three of them made was quite comical, Megatronus a big hulking mech with two of the tiniest sparklings that Orion had yet to see doing their best to incapacitate him.

“Are they yours?” Through their wiggling, Orion managed to get a good look at them. Something nudged in the back of his processor. They looked vaguely familiar, in that ghostly familiarity of a young sparkling that took after a creator particularly well.

“In a sense I suppose.” Megatronus wrestled the red one from his valiant attempt at tearing through his armor, placing him in the crook of his hip. His patience and care was admirable, far different from what Orion was used to seeing from him. “These are Soundwave’s scraplets.”

That explained why they seemed so familiar and why Megatronus seemed to take extra care with them. Megatronus would drop just about anything for Soundwave. A part of Orion was jealous of the relationship between Soundwave and Megatronus, but perhaps that was what happened when one was raised in the slums of Kaon together.

“I didn’t realize Soundwave was seeing anyone,” Orion said, neutrally.

“He’s not,” Megatronus growled, with enough ice that Orion didn’t needle him further. He waved Orion into his habsuite, turning carefully as to not to dislodge the drowsy blue sparkling that had nestled into the crook of his neck. “He should be back soon. I apologize, Orion, this was a last minute thing.”

Orion nodded, stepping further into what he would consider his second home. More utilitarian than cozy, with a berth, a table, and a few chairs. The only notable piece of furniture was a massive bookshelf along the back wall, filled with a menagerie of all sorts of datapads that Megatronus had either pilfered himself or was gifted to him from Orion. “That’s okay. Do they have names yet?”

“No. They’re only a few cycles old. Soundwave wants to see if they inherit any outlier abilities before committing.”

“Of course.” Names held great power in Cybertronian society. A name could tell a lot about a mech. It was not something to be chosen lightly.

Megatronus managed to make his way to his berth, where a soft tarp was laid out. He carefully laid the sparklings on the area, rumbling something to them in Kaoni. Orion knew it was some sort of order from the tone, but his language skills had never been the best. Whatever was said, the red sparkling trilled something back in binary, while his blue sibling proceeded to fully submit to recharge.

Megatronus turned, a proud, relieved smirk dancing on his lips. “Come sit. We have a few kliks before they regain consciousness.”

—

It was nice to fall back into the usual patterns with Megatronus. They took a cube each and sat at the table, their bodies unconsciously inching closer and closer to each other as if they were each other’s sun. Their conversation meandered through their mundane life events, through politics and philosophy. The clicks and beeps of the recharging sparklings made for pleasant background noise.

Orion loved his conversations with Megatronus. They were always the highlight of his vorn. It was a shame that their caste differences often kept them apart. Orion would give anything to be able to live with Megatronus full time.

Just as they were beginning to get into a particularly animated tangent, the entrance buzzer went off. The sparklings stirred minutely. Before they could start fussing, Megatronus answered the door, a sleek felinoid slinking in, seamlessly blending into the shadows of the room.

“Ah, Ravage, nice to see you.”

One of Soundwave’s symbiotes. Orion only knew the symbiotes in passing. He knew they were fully sentient, a fact not shared by many Cybertronians who refused to acknowledge their independence. Perhaps for this reason, the symbiotes tended to stick close to Soundwave, never too far from his side. It was strange seeing Ravage without Soundwave’s looming shadow nearby.

“Is Soundwave ok?” asked Megatronus, his brow furrowed in concern.

Ravage nodded. “Got held up.” She loped around the room, rubbing herself against Megatronus’ plating, pausing in front of Orion, tilting her head in greeting. Orion waved back.

She stalked her way to the berth, sniffing at the sparklings. They peeped back at her, excitedly grabbing at her face. She chuffed lightly at them, managing to gently grab both by the scruff in her formidable jaws. She left as quickly as she had arrived.

Megatronus watched the exchange carefully, only coming to sit with Orion again when Ravage was long gone. No doubt he was already comming Soundwave to check in on him, to make sure the sparklings made it back to their creator safely. It was almost endearing.

A tension left his shoulders after a few minutes and Orion allowed himself a small smile. “Come Megatronus. Let us continue our conversation.”

[miss-tc-nova]

Behind That Smile - Ruggie Bucchi x Reader

I like animal facts. Definitely recommend checking out the vet!yuu tag by blackopals-world.

Premise: Hyenas can bite through bone

Words: 1,537

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, Halloween event spoilers

~~~~~

               “Ruggie, if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna be sick.”

               Those cloudy-sky eyes manage to tear away from his plate long enough to peer up at me. It’s impressive he doesn’t choke as he swallows all the food in his mouth.

               “Are you kidding? I’m just getting started!” He catches sight of Epel walking by with a plate of meat and he awes. “Oh I haven’t tried that yet! I gotta go get some!”

               In a bolt, he’s out of his chair, already filling another plate. I shake my head with a sigh; however, at my side, the Diasomnian vice-housewarden chuckles.

               “Isn’t his appetite simply astounding?”

               “It’s impressive alright,” I hum. “I just wish he’d slow down before he chokes.”

               “But he still has so much to go through if he hopes to sample everything here,” Lilia says.

               He is right about that. Malleus, Lilia, Grim, and I had set out to help the ghosts enjoy the Halloween party that they missed. We had a beautiful venue, Malleus had the music covered, and we had the rest of Night Raven College on a scavenger hunt for mirror shards to fix our atmospheric lighting. However, one of the most astonishing features of the night were the tables absolutely stacked with food from all over Twisted Wonderland—courtesy of the ghosts themselves.

               And Ruggie is having the time of his life.

               Said hyena returns with various meat piled on his plate, but at the bottom sits a hunk of beef still clinging to the bone. It’s comically large and I honestly thought food like that only existed in cartoons. Yet Ruggie isn’t perturbed in the slightest as he chomps through everything he brought.

               I have a small chat with Lilia while Ruggie eats. It comes to a stop though when the hyena cleans the ridiculously large bone.

               “Finished already?” Lilia asks.

               “Not even.” He holds up the large bone in his hand. “This is the best part.”

               Without hesitation, Ruggie puts the skeletal matter into his mouth and bites.

               The crunching sound that follows shocks me to my core; it echoes in my ears. The sight of the splintered bone infests my brain and intrusive thoughts force me to imagine that as my arm. It’s mind blowing to think that this kid I’ve been hanging out with nearly every day could chomp through something so solid with such little effort.

               “My, that’s quite a bite you’ve got there,” Lilia remarks.

               Ruggie gives him a glance between getting at the marrow of the bone. “Yeah, I get told that often but it’s pretty normal in my family. My grammy used to give them to me when I was little.” He laughs. “She said it kept me quiet when I was annoying her.”

               “I’ll have to make note of that,” Lilia laughs. “I suppose that means there really isn’t much you won’t eat.”

               A shiver flies down my spine as he crunches the bone like candy. “Hey, if it’s edible, it’s worth trying at least once.”

               Throughout the rest of the night, I can’t get the image of Ruggie breaking bones out of my head. Again, the intrusive thoughts don’t help.

               The night ends and Malleus returns everyone safely to Night Raven College. There’s seems to be a lot of relief that Halloween has finally ended, but everyone agrees that it’s time to get some sleep.

               “So you had a hand in this entire mess.”

               My heart skips as Ruggie catches up to me and Grim on our way back to Ramshackle.

               “I guess you could say that.”

               “Heck yeah we did!” Grim climbs my costume to stand on my shoulder. “And we planned the best party ever!”

               “Yeah you did. The food was great.” Immediately, I divert my eyes away from Ruggie’s grin. I’m not sure I can ever look at that smile the same again.

               Though the conversation stays light, I keep my gaze occupied on the way back to my shabby little dorm. I would look at anything—the castle overhead, the rising sun, the rusted gate, the drowsy cat in my arms—as long as it wasn’t Ruggie.

               I tuck the blanket around my magic partner who quickly crashed on our way back. With a soft smile, I place his hat on the nightstand and stroke his head. The feline mumbles something about “awesome dance moves” as he rolls over to continue his dream.

               “Man, I thought he’d be up for hours with how wired he was,” Ruggie says as I close the door behind me.

               I glance down the hall, trying to put on a light-hearted air. “I think he just finally hit that sugar crash.”

               “Hey, are you okay?”

               “Yeah, I’m fine.”

               “Then why won’t you look at me?”

               Embarrassment simmers in my ears. This whole thing is stupid.

               “It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.” Raising my head, I look him in the eye and put on a smile. “I’m fine.” Immediately after those words leave my mouth, I can’t help glancing at his lips and my gaze instantly averts.

               “Yeah right. You’re avoiding me.” Ruggie ducks down, trying to look me in the eyes, but I just can’t. “Aw, c’mon. You mad at me or somethin’?”

               “N-No.” I avoid him again.

               “Then what?”

               The intrusive thoughts themselves aren’t really anything to be ashamed of. “Look, I just…I’m trying to block out the intrusive thoughts, okay?”

               There’s a pause. “What kind of intrusive thoughts?”

               But the contents of those thoughts kind of are.

               “Ruggie…” I groan.

               “Just tell me, will ya. You know I’m not gonna leave you alone ‘til you do.”

               He’s right—I know he won’t. It takes me a few moments filled with deep breaths and expectant stares to finally get the words out.

               “I’m just having a hard time getting the image of you crunching through that bone out of my head, okay? Can we just drop it now?”

               “The bone?” Glancing to him, I can see the gears turning in his head. “You’re not tellin’ me you’re scared of my bite now, are ya?”

               I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s less that I’m afraid and more that I can’t stop imaging you biting through things.”

               “You mean like this?”

               My stomach flips when the hyena grabs my arm. In a swift motion, he draws my sleeve back and brings the limb to his mouth, those massive, gleaming teeth resting against my skin. The image of that snapping bone fills my head. I shut my eyes and brace for the core-rattling snapping sound and the inevitable pain to follow.

               Instead I hear a soft chuckle. Warm, gentle lips meet my skin, instantly drawing my gaze back. Embers smolder behind his eyes as he trails soft kisses down to the back of my hand. A last reverent press of his lips meets my knuckles before his fingers intertwine with mine.

               “You gotta know I could never hurt you.” Even his voice is infested with the heat quickly enflaming my own bashfulness. This smooth criminal then leans in, lips brushing against my cheek causing the air to hitch in my chest. “Not even if my life depended on it.”              

               Then, Ruggie retreats, that ever-lovable simper warped into something warm and gentle. Meanwhile, with my skin on fire, I press against the wall in an attempt to keep myself from collapsing. I’m positive his ears—even hidden beneath that marauder’s hat—can hear the pounding in my chest. And if he didn’t hear that, the shuddering exhale from my mouth is probably thoroughly satisfying.

               “What’s wrong, sugar?” he asks, absolutely full of himself right now.

                My free hand presses to my face in a shoddy attempt to calm my nerves. “What a cruel criminal you are to toy with my feelings like this.”

               “All in a days work for a scurvy pirate—stealin’ such precious treasures as hearts, shyehehe.” There’s that smooth tongue. “But who said I was playin’?”

               The grip on my hand tightens and I swear he’s squeezing my heart.

               “Ruggie…?”

               “Didn’t even need to trick-or-treat to get me the best prize.” Some of his mischief returns. “Man, a full feast and I get the cutest kid on campus? I really did make off like a pirate with all the treasure this year.”

               It seems my legs are stable enough to hold their own weight again. “I don’t know about that.”

               “Oh I do. I could just eat you up.” He laughs in the face of my glare. “Too soon?”

               “I’m going to bed now.”

               My announcement doesn’t seem to deter Ruggie from pestering me, chattering about random things. Yet I’m not entirely inclined to send him off. Instead, he sheds his coat and boots and flops onto the bed beside me—his hand finding mine like the greedy man he is. It doesn’t take long after that for the conversation to lull and consciousness to drift.

               Those intrusive thoughts return frequently from then on out. Ruggie always had the potential to seriously hurt me. But every time he smiles, I’m reminded of that pirate in Ramshackle on Halloween night. I remember just how gentle that mouth can be—and how quickly it can sink those fangs into my heart.

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[flightyalrighty]

are there any sonic fan comics you would recommend? bonus points if they have shadow

Yeah! There's lots of really good ones out there!

Ghosts Of The Future by Evan Stanley - First Sonic webcomic I've ever read. Remains incomplete but I'll remember it always. It's the thing that got Evan her job with Archie (and then IDW and Sonic Team).

@pandoraaucomic by @starrjoy - Currently on hiatus! Really really really good and is the comic that convinced me to turn Infested into a comic! This comic is filled with beautiful art of some real high technical skill and a really gripping story.

@teamdarksupernovaodyssey by @sharpedgedfool - Really interesting premise and great character writing and acting (like expressions and posing and stuff). The way Orion crafts all those mechanical bits in their backgrounds blows my mind.

@the-heart-of-a-monster by @superemeralds - Action-packed different take on Sonic Unleashed! Really really good creature design going on here, and super rad paneling. Really nails the vibe of Sonic Unleashed while pushing that story much further. You'll especially dig this one if you like cool werehog designs.

@operationlove by @summersdale - This one is so cute and funny. Still pretty new, so definitely give it a follow and keep an eye on it for more pages. It's a small detail but I love how Summersdale draws Mobian noses.

[dross-the-fish]

Note: I got my tablet working briefly and was able to finish the lines before it crapped out again. Testing out a potential comic format to go with the drabbles. Don't know if it's going to be a regular thing but I thought I'd see how everyone feels about it. Adam’s Naming

The Creature sat in a chair that was uncomfortably small for him, his knees bent so that they nearly folded into his stomach. He watched anxiously as Watson pulled out his grooming kit and a pair of scissors.

“That mess of hair has to go, I’m amazed you don’t have lice,” the Doctor wrinkled his mustache as he methodically laid out his tools and began to separate the strands of black hair, first with his fingers to break apart the larger tangles without pulling then with a wide toothed comb.

The Creature, unaccustomed to being touched so casually, fought the urge to squirm away, “Parasites seem to find my blood unappetizing, I’ve never had to suffer their infestations on my person. A small mercy, I suppose,” he said.

“Be that as it may, I should hope that now that you are among people, you’ll be diligent with your hygiene,” Watson replied, grimacing as he picked up his scissors and snipped away the first oily lock, watching it pool on the ground in a snaky curl.

“I never anticipated that I would be among people. It is a foreign thing to be concerned with my appearance outside of hiding it from sight.”

“Have you really never had a friend?” Watson asked.

“No, never. The closest thing I had was a mere moment, I spoke once with an old blind man and he treated me kindly before his family drove me away,” the Creature fell silent, drawing up the memory of DeLacy’s smile and the gentle reassurance he’d given him.

“Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are full of brotherly love and charity”

It had been a lie, of course, but in the fleeting instance he had believed it, it had been so very beautiful to hear. Despite himself, the Creature had been unable to completely give up on wishing it could be true.

“What the old man gave me was no more than a crumb, but it was every sliver of hope I ever carried in my life and even now, after 100 years, I hold it in my breast and let it nourish me for want of richer food,” he confided quietly.

The scissors paused and Watson rested his hand on the Creature’s head, “Well, we’ll have to do better than that, won’t we? Seems to me a man ought to live off of more than crumbs. Let’s start by giving you a proper name, shall we?” he suggested kindly.

The Creature froze, his vision blurred and he could feel himself begin to tremble. This was not real, it couldn’t be real, no one who looked upon him and knew what he had done could offer him true kindness, much less give him a name. Victor had made him, had labored for months to bring him into existence and couldn’t bring himself to give him that! It was impossible! He refused to believe this doctor, a stranger to him, could give him that so easily. It was mockery, or a trick. It had to be. With a roar he shot out of the chair, sending it toppling, and turned to face Watson, incensed further when the old man didn’t flinch.

“Call me demon! Call me monster, or devil, or abomination! You know well that I have worn them all and each title has been fitting,” he hissed, lowering his head so that he was an inch from Watson’s face and the doctor would have no choice but to truly look at him. At his ravaged cheeks and the chunk of skin missing from the end of his nose. His torn, black lips distorted into a hideous snarl as he attempted to goad the doctor into screaming or attacking. I’ll kill you, he thought, show me you’re just like everyone else and I’ll kill you…

“Stop that this instant!” Watson snapped firmly as he righted the toppled chair, “Such carrying on, really. If you’re a monster or a devil now it’s because you choose to be. I’ll not entertain such utter nonsense. Now, you have a choice, you can sit in this chair, let me cut your hair and we’ll pick out a name for you or you can leave. I don’t care where you go but I have no patience for tantrums. If you want to stay with us you had better get a lid on that temper this very minute!” he tapped the back of the chair expectantly, never once breaking the Frankenstein monster’s gaze.

The Creature deflated, caught off guard and chastened like a child scolded by a stern parent. He sank back into the chair and folded his hands in his lap, the very picture of contrition. Watson softened and resumed his cutting.

“As I recall,” he said as he settled into a rhythm, the quiet snip of the scissors soothing his nerves, “You said to Victor that you ought to have been his Adam. Adam is a fine name; a good, strong, name and I think it suits you. How would like to be called Adam?”

Silence. A shuddering gasp, then in a small trembling voice, “I would like that very much…”

Watson leaned forward and gave Adam’s cheek a pat, not flinching at the exposed muscle under the ridge of his cheekbone but moved to pity by the wetness trickling down it, "Whatever you were, whatever you've done, put it behind you now. This is your new start, your second chance. Don't squander it, Adam."

[bestworstcase]

hi, I was the anon who asked this: [Which led me thinking, Yang has a lot of parallels with the villains, notably, Adam, Cinder, and Salem. What do you think is the ideal route of Yang during volume 4?] I probably didn't phrase that right. Uh, I was a bit dissatisfied with Yang's arc at volume 4. I know it wasn't supposed to be comfortable since it shows Tai's and Yang's traumas but it wasn't the good kind of bad. I guess I wanted more things to be added to Yang's arc in volume 4 or for some things to be slightly adjusted. Like in the DC comics, there was a character named Madame Mallari who helped Yang, she's an old lady who's a doctor and has prosthetic legs. It got me thinking that if she really was supposed to be part of canon then why show it late? If there are other people who can give Yang support then why didn't they show it at Vol 4? What if something bad happened to Yang while Tai was at Signal (it is to my belief that Signal was still operational since it was located in Patch)?

I am just uncomfortable with it especially when the show frames that it's somehow Yang's fault for rushing at Adam when there is no either choice left. I admit that it may be quite unreasonable for me to think like that. Anyways, sorry for the rant.

Uh, did you know that magical artifacts in RWBY existed? It was established in one of the games. Apparently, one of the artifacts was capable of controlling some Grimm and it was wielded by one of Salem's agent in Mistral. It got me thinking that since magic is hereditary, does that mean one of the Schnee's ancestor got an artifact and somehow made their semblances hereditary and the same throughout the generations?

this is an older post, but i still stand by it.

i don’t disagree with (most) of your take on her v4 arc: i don’t think the narrative framing is at all that it’s yang’s fault she got hurt, and i also (as outlined in the linked post) don’t think we’re intended to agree with tai’s assessment of what he saw in yang during the vytal tournament fights, which is what he bases his advice on because that’s the only thing he saw, but yang’s isolation and the dearth of support she receives during this very vulnerable time in her life are indeed uncomfortable. my feeling though is that discomfort is a feature, not a bug.

like, in V2, yang recounts one of her childhood memories to blake that involved her waiting for tai to leave the house before she put her three- or four-year-old baby sister in a wagon and left to wander through the woods for hours before anyone found them. yang would have been five or six years old. so we know that tai often left the girls at home alone when they were very young. probably he was leaving to go to work, a predictable circumstance with a regular schedule, so why didn’t he arrange childcare during the day? why didn’t they go to a neighbor’s house or a daycare or preschool? why didn’t he hire a babysitter? why leave two very small children at home alone in a cabin in the middle of grimm-infested woods?

there’s a through line between tai’s neglect of the girls back then and the way he treats yang in V4. and in V4, it is abundantly clear that yang does not feel comfortable enough with her dad to show him emotional vulnerability or rely on him for… anything except combat training, really; the only time yang really opens up in V4 is with oobleck and port, who (unlike tai) ask her how she’s feeling and validate her feelings and are also visibly horrified by the really harsh way tai talks to his daughter.

i haven’t read the DC comics and my understanding is they’re not canon? but based on yang’s anecdote in V2 and what tai does in V4, i think the answer to “if yang was supposed to have more support, why didn’t it happen in V4?” is probably that she wasn’t; and the answer to “why didn’t she get more support” is that tai is neglectful and also displaces how he feels about raven onto yang to a harmful degree. yang feels like he expects her to just pop on the prosthetic arm he surprised her with and magically be okay overnight because that is… how tai acts.

in a lot of ways it’s akin to what weiss goes through in V4—tai is not nearly as bad as jacques, but he is neglectful and his ‘tough love’ does hurt yang’s feelings and his singular focus on only her physical recovery does lasting emotional harm that she’s only now, in V9, beginning to confront. and in V5, weiss gets yang to open up with her by telling yang about her dad abusing her family and watching her mom disappear into an alcoholic shell of herself, which makes yang feel understood.

because weiss’ home life isn’t exactly the same but it resonates with yang; she and ruby grew up taking care of qrow when he was blackout drunk and their dad wasn’t around and didn’t make arrangements for them to be taken care of while he was working. and weiss—who is very empathetic and emotionally insightful, see also her clear and accurate understanding of why blake left—has picked up on enough hints, read enough between the lines of what little yang and ruby said about their dad at beacon, to have known this story would resonate.

like a big part the reason i like yang’s V4 arc is it explores the many ways tai fails her in a way that feels cogent with what we learned about him in V2. it shows both the acute trauma of having lost her arm but also the much subtler and more complicated scars of having been neglected and parentified by her dad throughout her life.

anyways!

i have watched the grimm campaign, yeah. the magical artifacts are interesting on the grounds that they rely on aura to activate them, same as dust, which imo supports my theory that aura is magic, just rising from the human soul rather than reliant on the gods, and that ancient humans did not have aura because it was suppressed or bound by the divine blessings.

i’m also inclined to think that there’s always or at least often a hereditary element to semblances, because they’re informed by a person’s nature and identity and those things are influenced by your family; the directly hereditary and also exceptionally versatile schnee semblance is i think probably the result of a really strong identification with the family and a belief in the hereditary semblance, with the versatility coming from individual variations getting passed down generation to generation. one schnee had a speed semblance, another could summon constructs of fallen foes, but it looked superficially similar so the schnees have always believed these diverse abilities to be the same semblance and taught each other how to do everything. belief makes it so. i think semblances are a lot more malleable than anyone gives them credit for, in or out of universe.