#Am I so used to the fact that I’ve masked up my identity

[astral-from-afar]

Why am I so annoying and overbearing in any interaction I am apart of

[ravenna-reid]

Your Demons Know Mine (Part Two)

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Part One - Mentions of violence and some of Jason's trauma

“We got the files you needed, I don’t understand what the problem is –”

You were cut off by a stern voice. You’d never heard Batman so livid, and it was a cold sort of anger that you weren’t used to. It made you and Red fall silent.

“How many times am I going to have to discuss your antics with you Hood?”

Nightwing, who you assumed was the one to contact Batman, stood before you now alongside Red Robin, the pair of them quietly watching this argument unfold. 

You wanted to cast a glance over at Red. The anger was practically radiating off of his suit. “Almost beating a man half to death? Again?”

“You weren’t there! The prick had it coming!” Jason snapped back, his voice full of emotion now that his helmet was off and all he had was that domino mask. 

Batman merely scoffed at Jason in response. “That’s no excuse! You were all given one clear rule-”

“We fight crime, shits gonna get ugly sometimes! Yet you act like you’ve never hit someone that hard before!” Jason took a step closer to Batman as he yelled.

I've never seen you hit Joker that hard, and you hate him.

The words Jason uttered to Bruce so long ago simmered in the back of his mind. Back when he was bloody and bruised at the hands of his own ‘father.’

Batman stood, rigid and full of rage before his demeanour suddenly seemed to change. His body language telling you his attention had turned to you. 

“[Vigilante name].”

You wanted to grimace. 

“How did you gain access to that room so quickly? How did you know the pin?”  

Soon enough, everyone’s eyes settled onto you. 

Oh hell no. The last thing you expected after this shitty night was to be at the centre of the conflict. You did not think Batman and his little soldiers would end up interrogating you. 

You kept your arms crossed against your body, your glare meeting everyones before falling back onto Batman. 

“What?”

“The. Pin. How did you attain it?”

You fought the urge to fiddle with the knuckle duster that still sat on your hand. Fought the urge to shift your feet on the ground. You felt Red turn to look at you too. 

You nonchalantly shrugged. “I don’t just work for you. I have my own cases too, and I’ve been investigating here and there.” 

Nightwing and Red Robin’s line of sight switched from you back to the Dark Knight, but both he and Hood seemed unconvinced. 

Tension settled over the room like a weighted blanket. Still, you held your stance. Held eye contact even though all you were staring back at was a bat-like cowl with white casing over the eyes. 

“You work for them, don’t you?” 

Batman’s words sounded more like a statement rather than a question, and it made your skin crawl. How long did you really think you could hide your identity from the Bat? Nevertheless, the breach of privacy made anger ring like alarm bells in your head. Especially given one of the rules Batman laid upon you when he first met you; never try to discover anyone’s secret identity. Ironic.

“What do you mean? Why would I bring back these files if I were working for the bad guys?” You spat back, clearly becoming defensive. 

Batman responded coolly, “I never said you were working for the ‘bad guys.’

You swallowed hard, and it no doubt went unnoticed by the two stupid detectives standing before you. Your glare snapped over to Red Robin, but he seemed a little sympathetic. Like he was pitying you for what was about to go down. 

“The use of potassium? Your tendency to use chemicals instead of weapons when on patrol? There have been signs for a while.”

Now, you shifted on your feet. Whether it was because you were slowly becoming nervous or weary, you couldn’t tell. The only thought that brought you peace of mind was the fact that it seemed they still didn’t know your identity. Just where you worked. 

You supposed you could live with that. 

Batman continued, assuming he was indeed right.

“If that’s the case, our best bet is to have you work undercover.”

Your brows knitted together. “What do you mean?” You said once again. 

“We’ll try and gain access to the security cameras. Give you advanced contact lens’ so we can see what you see when you go into work.” 

Your guard dropped and instantly you were glowering at him. “Come again?”

This time, Nightwing responded. “It would help with the case [vigilante name].” He reasoned oh so diplomatically. “We could get inside intel and more.” 

“We can’t let this get any worse.” Batman interjected, adding onto what Nightwing said. 

Your mouth was agape as you stared at them both. “So you want me to willingly give away my identity?” You asked, astounded. 

Jason’s gaze hung onto you, taking in the betrayal that made its way into your expression. 

“No one would use it against you.” Nightwing said calmly. 

“No, but you would all go along with your day feeling safe behind your masks and I would be exposed. That’s not fair.”

“This is for the safety of others.” Batman’s voice grew stern again. “It’s not about you.”

You scoffed before stepping back, and it almost sounded like a bitter laugh. 

You couldn’t believe it. But a part of you also wasn’t so surprised either. Of course they didn’t trust you enough to allow you to keep your secret identity, just as they were keeping theirs. Of course they were acting like there would be no other way to crack this case and bring these people down. You would apparently have to reveal who you really were so that they could discover what your company was planning. And now all four bats were watching and waiting for you to remove your mask. You shook your head, heavy with disappointment.  

All you wanted was to be defended, to have someone have your back just once –

“You can’t ask her to do that.”

Your head immediately snapped to look over at Red. He was standing tall, his body language sure as he spoke those seven words to Batman and Nightwing. 

“Hood, stay out of –”

“No. That’s bullshit. We can do this without her removing the mask. We’ve done it a million times before.”

Those standing before them looked befuddled, and Red knew Bruce was probably swimming in rage at the fact that he was shitting all over his plan, but Jason didn’t care. In fact, the thought of it kinda made Jason happy. 

Red Hood turned to face you, dark hair falling above his eyes and demons apparently rid from his mind. He was his old self again. His usual self, but then again not so much. He was being…sweet? 

“You go to work, snoop around. Find out what you can and report back to us.” 

You gave a curt nod in return, grateful to have him sticking up for you. 

You quickly ignored that warmth that was beginning to spread through your chest and turned your gaze back onto the Bat. 

“So?” You asked, eager to see if Batman would agree with Red’s proposition. 

Bruce wasn’t happy, but he let it go. “Fine, get as much information as you can. We’ll discuss your encounter with that guard later.” He said to Red before leaving the cave. 

And you did the same. 

Jason watched as you instantly turned on your heel and headed towards your motorbike. Instinct told him to reach out to you. Ask you to wait a second. But he let you go. 

It was late. Later than you usually stayed out on patrol. But you were high on agitation and adrenaline, and you wanted to get it out of your system. The cold Gotham breeze brushed through your hair and against your skin, carrying the scent of rain. You sat atop one of the tallest buildings in Gotham, tilting your head back to look up at the cloud riddled sky. Maybe you’d be forced to go back to your apartment by the rain. You let out another annoyed sigh, flipping your dagger around in your hand before launching to your feet. 

You’d heard the footsteps from a mile away, and now they were close enough for you to confront them. The odds of it being a criminal or thug was low. You were expecting one of the men from the lab, maybe, but you were also expecting to see Nightiwng come and play devil’s advocate with you. 

Instead, you were met with another one of those bright, red helmets. 

“Someone’s a little tense.” He quipped as he still his movements so you realised he wasn’t a threat. He didn’t come to fight this time. 

You lowered the hand that held your dagger before easily slipping it back into its sheath. 

“You have a shelf full of those helmets?” You asked, nodding towards it. 

You couldn't see it, but he was smiling. “Yeah, I got Batman to make about a dozen of them. Him being rich and all.” 

Red walked across the rooftop, mirroring your movements as you began to slowly circle him. 

“I wouldn’t know how rich he is, I don’t go around trying to discover everyone’s identity.” Bitterness laced your tone, but Jason could understand why. 

“That’s just Bru- Batman.” He cleared his throat. “He’s paranoia and distrust incarnate.”

“Tell me about it.” You muttered, your eyes gazing back out to the skyline and city lights. 

Something turned in your stomach, fluttered in your chest. “Thanks for standing up for me. I really didn’t want to blur the lines between my patrol life and work life.”

Red nodded, “Yeah…it’s fine. I get that.”

Fuck, now what was he supposed to say? He was too hung up on the fact that you had thanked him to think of a way to carry the conversation. 

You both stood in silence, watching the city life below before you eventually side-eyed him. “So…how are you holding up?”

With the way he looked back at you, you just knew he had an eyebrow raised. 

Not knowing how to bring it up, you had your dagger in your hand again as it turned between your gloved fingers. “The crowbar?” Your voice was quiet. 

Oh, that. 

Red faced away from you. “Yeah..” He moved his large arms as if to stretch them before eventually turning to face you again. “It was nothing.” 

A part of you was so horrendously curious as to why the brash and fearless Red Hood buckled when he saw a crowbar, but you weren’t going to urge him. Push him to reveal something he so clearly didn’t want to acknowledge. 

You shrugged. “We all have something we would rather not face.” With the cool breeze picking up you crossed over arms over your body. 

Jason didn’t miss the affliction in your eyes as you stared out at that morbid city.  

“You?” He asked, his body ever so slightly inching closer towards yours. 

You looked back at him before looking down at his thighs. “Yeah, those things.” You said. 

He looked down at the guns strapped to him. 

Something ate away at Jason once he realised. 

So he was using the one thing you couldn’t stand? 

His main weapon was your crowbar…

“That why you would rather give people nerve damage with your chemicals?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even Red.” 

He gave a light snicker and it immediately made your head spin.

No, this was not how you two were supposed to interact with each other. 

You eagerly ignored that feeling in your chest. “Well, I have work to do tomorrow. Chemical testing, snooping, etc, etc.”

Jason caught the hint it was time to go your separate ways and call it a night. 

“Mm, come back to us with some intel and you might be able to earn some trust Dr.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him but a smirk dusted your face at the mention of his new nickname for you. It started out just being shithead, then he referred to you as a fox. 

‘Sly as a fox.’ 

Sometimes he’d call you alchemist, but now it was Dr. 

You flicked your hand at him as if you were swatting away a fly. “Yeah, yeah, cause that’s what I aim for in life. Earning the Bats trust.”

And in a blink of an eye, you had dropped down off of the rooftop. 

Now it was just Jason, the wind and car horns from down below. 

He drew in a deep breath, letting the coldness fill his chest as he thought about how your ‘friendship’ had taken such a turn.

But as Jason romanticised what could be, you couldn't help but feel you needed to re-drive a rift between this growing friendship. Not because you disliked what was slowly growing between you two, it actually made you a little giddy...but that was the problem.

lmk what ya'll think cause I might make this a series :)

[hearts4werka]

The Devil Herself

Summary: You’re the famous Ghostface killer in the town of Boston while your ex-bodyguard Christopher is also an FBI agent investigating your murders, you overhear his conversation with his mother about a set up date with another woman so you decide to pay the woman a little visit after the date… Genre: Horror, slasher, age gap (it’s not a big one), female killer, obsessive stalker, crime investigation, The FBI, arranged date Warnings: This fic contains darker themes that may trigger some readers like gore, kidnapping, acts of torture, illegal possession of various of dangerous weapons ( don’t do this irl ) obsessive female!character, cursing, murder, detaching-limbs. Read At Your Own Risk! authors note: this turned out wayyy longer than I expected it to. I started to write this last night still kinda shocked how I finished it in one day. I’m already writing pt.2 to Missing and need to finish that but here’s a long Chris fic for while you guys wait for it. There might be a pt.2 to this too but I have to see if y’all will want one. Hope you enjoy!

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

The Halloween season is right around the corner and I’ll have to do some work to set the atmosphere for the lovely town I’ve been slashing for couple of good years.

I am called ‘The Ghostface killer’ around this town, known mostly for the gruesome crime scenes I create which I’m proud to said in know for that, how I always manage to cover up any evidence that could lead to discovering my identity.

There’s been many before me, some were better some worse. Dating back almost centuries, I can say I’ve been through some stuff in the past. I don’t want to get into detail with it but let’s just say I’m on a revenge mission, murdering and torturing the people who’ve hurt me in the past.

But there’s a little problem flowing in my mind… my ex-bodyguard, Christopher.

He’s an FBI Agent, often a bodyguard or guarding something. The FBI are currently investigating ‘The Ghostface Killer Crimes’ how do I know? Oh it’s obviously because I stalked him, unfortunately I also found out some unpleasant things too.

His mother has set up him with another women for a date. And it’s fucking tonight.

I may have hacked into his chat logs as well and overheard him and his mother talking over the phone when I was just watching him on the cameras with sound recorders I’ve installed along with the cameras.

As much as I try to let go of him, when I manage get him out of my mind and focus on other things at hand he just latched onto my brain and messes with it, just coming back each time like a boomerang.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

I’m getting ready to discretely stalk Christopher’s date, dressing up normally but keeping my mask on me since I’ll be doing some dirty work today and I can’t get blood on my beautiful face, can I? But mostly to hide my real identity from her.

I walk into my closet, picking out a black corset along with some matching black jeans that make my body look amazing together with the corset, I want her to see something pleasant to look at before she will go out.

Adding the finishing touches such as jewelry, a black leather jacket draping it over my shoulders and black boots I glance over at the mirror of my bathroom and fix my hair. I almost feel like I’m getting ready for a date to which I chuckle internally at the fact I’m going out for a completely different reason. ( outfit here )

I grab my bag off the bathroom counter it was sitting on, walking over to a big black duffel bag dropped on my bed I pick out what weapons I would like to use today.

Picking the classic and iconic knife along with a small electric saw but also a gun for extra fun, I shove the gun into a hidden pocket in the leather jacket and drop the knife and saw in the bag of today’s choice.

Inside of the bag already resides my phone, a digital camera I take pictures of my beautifully gruesome crime scenes and of my victims for little pieces of memories.

After I’m done preparing, I make sure everything is in place and locked as I finally walk out of the house.

Time to start this little shitshow

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Im in my car, sitting in front of a fancy restaurant the date was planned at with my laptop sitting my lap, watching them through the restaurants cameras I’ve managed to hack into. People really need to make their security devises have a stronger protection because this was easier than I thought it would be.

My blood boils with jealousy as she reaches out with a napkin in her hand to wipe off a piece of the food they’re eating that got left on his upper lip. If she puts her hands on him again, I’ll cut the motherfuckers off and give them to him if he continues to allow it.

He’s very aware of having a person stalking him but he doesn’t know who it is even being an FBI agent he couldn’t simply figure out who it is, I grab my phone out of my bag and open the messages app. Typing out a simple text I send it over to him and watch him on the cameras for his reaction.

Me : Is someone running off with other women? Keep having her hands all over you and you’ll see what happens next.

Seeing him excuse himself to check the message on his phone I’ve sent, a look of horror and caution creeps into his features as he looks around nervously but he hides them with a tight smile from the woman that’s completely oblivious of what the message contained nor why he suddenly changed in demeanor.

For the rest of the night, he avoided her touch as much as he could but slip ups did occur. At the end of the date he cautiously walked her back to her car, I was parked not far away from her so I saw everything with my eyes. When they say their goodbyes she leans in and places a gentle kiss on his cheek before getting into her car and proceed to drive away.

He returns to his own car and just sits there lost in thought, the look on his face etched into his features, more evident now that he’s alone. After a few minutes he starts the car and drives away.

Now it’s time for the fun part to start.

I tracked the woman’s home address before they went on the date and found out all of the basic knowledge about her without unnecessarily digging too deep, putting her home address into the gps now it’s finally my time to drive off.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

After a while of driving I finally reach my destination and park in front of an old-money house thats a pretty good size for someone who lives alone. Looks like mommy and daddy’s wealth payed off for her.

I have a feeling she’ll be fun to torture.

I grab my bag with all of the supplies I need and get out of the car in one swift open of a door, walking around the car I face the trunk. Opening it I take out a cloth along with a small bottle of sedative.

Popping the cap off the bottle I pour some of it onto the cloth, glancing around the containments of my trunk if I won’t need anything else, grabbing my signature mask as the last item I need and slide it over my head now concealing my face.

With one efficient and swift move I close the trunk and finally head towards her house, time to do some breaking in now, put the bitch to sleep and drive her to my house. After I’m done with that I’ll have some good old fun with her.

Going through the back door that thankfully was left open behind I quietly enter the building, checking if anything besides me is lurking in the dark shadows covering her house and find nothing, no sign of any animals too to which I sigh in relief. I really hate killing peoples animals. ( don’t actually kill animals irl )

I slyly maneuver my way through the darkness and up the stairs, them creaking as if I’m in a horror movie. Getting up the creaky ass stairs I see light coming out of one of the rooms, assuming that’s where she’s currently located I decide to put more of the sedative on the cloth in my hand to make sure she doesn’t wake up during the ride back to my house.

Scanning the surrounding area I can’t help but wonder if she left the door unlocked, she does live alone so no one could technically get into her house and into the bathroom while she’s in there, right?

As I come closer to the bathroom my ears suddenly get assaulted by music coming out from the slightly opened bathroom door, she has shit taste in music.

Creeping up to the bathroom door I widen the open hole with my hand as quietly as possible to not draw any sudden unwanted attention to it.

I take a small peak inside and see the shadow of her figure through the shower curtains she’s concealed behind, thinking this is gonna be easier than I thought I slowly enter the room and make my way towards the shower.

Pulling open the curtain my eyes are met with my target being completely nude while water rains onto her naked body from the shower head secured to the wall in front of her.

Without giving her anytime for further reaction than the horror slowly spreading across her features I slap the cloth over her mouth to muffle her screams pouring out of her mouth.

When she falls asleep I get her out of the shower and put the clothes she left in the bathroom onto her body, tossing her over my shoulder again I carry her back to my car and drop her into the backseat.

I drive off from under her house and on the path back to my house.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

We arrive at my house and I check into the backseat to see if she’s woken up.

“Still knocked out.”

I exit the car and take her out of the backseat, tossing her over my shoulder again and carry her into my basement or how I like to call it ‘The secret layer of crime’

Walking down the stairs and underground I drop her from my shoulder and into a bloody wooden chair in the middle of my basement or torture chamber, tying her down to it with a thick rope that was sitting next to it on a small wooden stool so she doesn’t get away when she finally wakes up.

Next to the chair is a white plastic table with various torture weapons I usually can’t carry around with me, opening my bag I dump out the weapons I took with me earlier.

I wait for her to wake up because I need her to be fully conscious during the whole process, I’m gonna make this painful for her. Mentally and physically.

After a few minutes of waiting she finally regains her consciousness and looks at me with the same horror on her face as when I took her, she tried to scream but realizes her mouth is ceiled shut with a cloth taped to her mouth.

A sinister laugh rumbles in my throat at her desperate tries to pry her way free or scream for help, this basement is sound proof so no one will hear her even in the slightest mumble.

“Oh are you trying to escape? You poor little thing, how sad.” I say with mockery lacing my tone, my eyes settle down on the table full of weapons and her eyes follow right behind, her horror spreading further and becoming more evident.

She violently shakes to try and loosen the thick rope she’s secured with tightly to the chair, grabbing a knife off the table I walk over to her. My shoes creating echoing foot step sounds that bounce around the walls of the basement.

Leaning down and getting up close to her face I raise the knife to her jawline and slowly trace it, the cold blade leaving goosebumps behind its path.

Her eyes become glassy and tears roll down her cheeks, a smirk spreads across my face at the beautiful sight of her being scared.

“You know why you’re here?” I ask, knowing I won’t get a clear answer out of her, the cause of it being the cloth taped to her mouth.

Shaking her head negatively, meaning she’s saying no and I become amused by not having a lack of an answer from her as I expected. She’s really desperate to stay alive, how pathetic.

“Well you don’t have to know but let’s just say you might be loosing some limbs today, hm?”

Her eyes widen at my sudden statement as her horrified state intensifies along with her desperate tries to escape, the sight is complete gold or a rare find that can only be dug up deep in the cold mines.

I slide a small stool with some blood covering the surface of it and place it under one of her hands, extending my hand behind me onto the weapon table I grab the mini electric saw.

Without hesitation I flip it on and it starts up with a roar, bringing the circling saw blade to her wrist and saw right down which detaches her hand from her arm. Blood sprays out from her arm and onto my clothes and everything around it as I take the severed hand and place it onto the weapon table.

Grabbing the stool and putting it where her other hand is and copy the same procedure of detaching the hand as on the other.

When that’s done I put the new severed hand next to its sister on the weapon table along with the now blood-covered saw. She’ll die a slow, painful and torturous death after I’m done with her.

I hover my hand over the weapon table and select a weapon at random, I grab onto something long and sharp, knowing what it is already I grasp the leather handle of it and bring the blade to her neck, slicing it open but not enough to kill her yet.

Putting the weapon down back onto the weapon table I walk over to a chest and open it, taking out a small carboard box among different body bags, trash bags and gloves I’ve left in here because I was too lazy to throw it out.

I close the chest and place the box on top of it, walking back to the weapon table I grab the severed hands and then go back to the box and neatly place them inside.

Thinking of what to add to it I decide or grab my camera from my bag I dropped onto the ground after taking out the weapons I took with me earlier I take a picture of the tortured and slowly dying woman on the chair. Just a little memory for him to remember.

I take the Polaroid out of the camera and grab the knife off the table, stabbing into what’s left of her hand to draw some blood onto the blade of it and I write a small letter with it on the back of the Polaroid.

After I’m done with my little letter I return back to the box, closing it and ceiling it shut with some tape I had in my grasp.

Grabbing the box and the Polaroid I exit the basement and go into my car to give Chris a little surprise. By the time I exit the basement the sun is already coming up and starting to illuminate the world.

I drop the box next to me in the passenger seat along with the polaroid and drive off to his house. He should be awake by now since he usually wakes up when the sun comes up.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Arriving at my destiny under his house I take the box with the Polaroid and get out of my car, walking over to the front door of his house I place the box down onto the doormat that has ‘Welcome!’ written across it in black bold letters on a white background.

I neatly place the Polaroid on top of the the box that’s slowly leaking blood from one of the bottom corners and onto the white and black doormat, I ring his doorbell and walk back to my car to drive off from under his house before he saw me.

The note on the back of the Polaroid says is bloody letters.

‘Like running off with other women so much? Here’s a little surprise for you but I’ll say one thing. You are mine and no other woman is allowed to lay your hands on you. Ever again.’

- Your lovely Stalker

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@slutforsturnioloss @sturnioloblues @sturnsxplr-25

Comment under this post to be added!

[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Set-Up for Chapter 4 (3)

Summary: Hazel is really bad at lying. Especially to you.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of violence and death, I don't know what else honestly it's like 2 AM

Word Count: 4244

Note: I know it's been a while, my bad- turns out this whole university thing actually needs my time and effort to pass or something idk. Anyways, this chapter is lowkey kind of boring cause it's the set-up for the fun upcoming action-filled bloody chapters so just bear with me. But since I was gone for a while this is extra long... at least for me. Next fic is chapter 2 of The Grief We're Given so enjoy the lighthearted fic for now... also am lazy so this is unedited LMAO so it might be bad idc - Bia <3

“(Y/N), I know this may come off as a shock, but I love you too much to hide it from you anymore. I’m actually… the Spider-Woman!” 

PJ dramatically pulled off the red mask from her face, striking a pose, earning a laugh from Hazel. 

The trio were putting away the equipment they used for the Fight club after all the other members had left the gym— and by that it meant Josie and Hazel were putting away equipments while PJ thought it was a fun idea to dig through Hazel’s backpack to pull out her Spider-Woman mask, put it on, and start doing cartwheels and other nonsense around the gym floor. 

“Okay, why don’t you actually help us clean up, PJ,” Josie complained, folding up the floor mats, “Instead of blowing Hazel’s cover?” 

“Fine,” PJ rolled her eyes before throwing the mask back to Hazel, who caught it reflexively just as it was about to hit her face. “But even if anyone saw me with the mask, it’s not like they would believe any of us losers could possibly be the amazing Spider-Woman.”

PJ threw a playful grin at Hazel who folded the mask and hid it in her backpack. PJ had been begging her to reveal her superhero identity for a while, saying that it would raise all of their social levels right to the top. Josie, in reverse, begged Hazel not to reveal her identity, especially given the risks involved. 

“But what if you just told (Y/N)? Then, she’ll fall in love with you, then automatically she’ll hang out with us more, and by association she’ll bring Isabel and Brittany with her!” PJ argued, still unwilling to drop the topic. 

“Yeah, and then the next villain that wants to kill Hazel will take the people she loves as hostage,” Josie warned. “In fact– I know we’ve been doing the self-defense club for a while and it’s been going pretty well so far, but Hazel has exposed herself way too much.” 

PJ groaned, indicating her impatience with Josie’s cautious approach. “Okay what part of this is too much? All Hazel’s doing is lightly punching and kicking a bunch of girls.” 

“Was it the backflip?” Hazel chimed in. 

“Yes, it was the backflip!” Josie blurted. “And we can’t keep saying ‘there’s all sorts of people who teach you stuff in juvie’ as an excuse anymore.” 

“But the club is working!” PJ insisted, flailing her arms towards the gym. “Girls are actually acknowledging us in the hallways, I’ve gotten 3 high fives just this afternoon, and girls– the hot ones know our names. And also Female solidarity and whatever. The club is working!”

“I know. I feel like if we keep it up, you guys might actually be able to take down some crime in the area.” 

“No, if we keep it up we can put our fingers inside of each other, grow up, Hazel.” 

Josie crossed her arms. “Whatever. It’s your call.” 

“I do feel like people are liking more than just the hitting and the tackling part of the club.”

The club had moved onto catfights on the gym floor, and it was no secret to Hazel that she always looked forward to these training sessions, particularly when it came to her interactions with you. All the punching, kicking, and rolling around the floor was more than what Hazel believed she deserved, but she couldn’t help but crave a deeper connection with you. And the weekly lunch meetings to make the ‘women murdered in history’ project weren’t exactly enough to get to know each other. 

PJ shrugged. “Yeah, I know, we’re empowering them. Duh.”

“No, I mean, seriously, to have a safe space like this, it means a lot to people, and I think if we took some time to spend a meeting and actually get to know these girls, like, it would be really important instead of just…” Hazel pictured the time you were on top of her, pinning her down with your feeble strength, bodies pressed close– so close– as you grappled each other on the floor, listening to the chants and cheers of the girls circling around. Her voice trailed off. “...sweating on them.”

PJ and Josie paused, then looked at each other with an incredulous smile. 

“Hazel, that is… genuinely a brilliant idea.” 

“I love talking about my trauma.”

Hazel squinted. “That’s not really–”

“-I literally jack off after every single therapy session. It just makes girls weirdly horny.”

Josie shook her head. “Don’t say ‘girls’. It’s just you.” 

“Okay!” Hazel interrupted, fearing someone walking in midst of the conversation that turned weird thanks to PJ, as always. “I’ll just email the group about our next meeting.” 

You walked into the gym with an excited grin. Fight club was the one thing you looked forward to in school nowadays— it was the only place you felt truly safe and comfortable, with only girl members (minus Mr. G, but he was an ally) who cheered you on with every weak punch that you threw. 

Hazel noticed you walking in and waved to you, and you noticed that the format of the club had changed today. Everyone was sitting in a circle, like one of those sharing sessions in kindergarten times. You joined the circle in between Krystal and Hazel, who grinned like an idiot when you sat beside her. 

“What’s going on?” You whispered to her, but Josie answered your question.

“So, we know that this club has been a place where we can feel empowered physically, but we also thought it could be a safe space and a place where we can open up and talk about our feelings.” 

You nodded along as the girls began to talk about themselves— Sylvie with her stepdad, Stella with her stalker, and Brittany with her jewelry business— and you realized that although you had been fighting each other for a while, you never knew that much about the girls. You listened tentatively to each of their stories, but to your honesty, you were quite distracted by your project partner, who kept opening her mouth, then closed them continuously. She seemed to be contemplating whether or not to open up. Your curiosity piqued, and when your eyes met with her’s, you encouraged her with a supportive look. 

Hazel smiled at your aid. She didn’t really know how to talk about the biggest secret that she held about her superpower, but your expression was so supporting– too supporting, that she found herself speaking out. 

“Well, ever since…” Hazel began, her mind racing to find the right words.

I’ve been bitten by a radioactive spider, 

“...My parent’s divorce,” 

I’ve been doing this, like, superhero stuff after school. I don’t even know if I’m doing this right, you know?

“My mom’s been doing this, like, mid-life crisis. I don’t know how that’s sitting with me, you know?”

And it’s just me swinging through buildings and beating criminals up and handing them over to the police who hate me because I’m a faceless vigilante but the entire neighborhood depends on me because some of these criminals are genuinely insane. I’ve broken bones, I’ve fallen through roofs, I got impaled once, that was fun— and it just feels so incredibly amazing but so burdening, all the same time. 

“And it's been really really dark.”

She took a glance at you, who was nodding through her words, returning her gaze with tender understanding. 

“This has just been really meaningful to me to, like, get to know some new people-”

(Y/N).

“-Who actually wants to, like, get to know me.”

You felt a surge of empathy for Hazel. You could hear the vulnerability shining through her words— it must have been hard to find good friends after experiencing such hardship. You couldn’t help but come to admire her even more. 

You raised your hand. “And I just wanted to say that I think it’s very hard to find a good and safe community in school for girls, and I’m really grateful to Hazel for founding this club,” You gushed. “It's really brave of you— and your friends— to take your past and turn it into something so amazing for us. So, thank you.” 

Hazel grinned like an idiot, fidgeting with her hair as her face burned up.

“Get a room, you two,” PJ intervened with a smirk. “But seriously, I just want to circle back to what Brittany was saying–”

“-I would like to go next, if that’s okay.” Josie raised her hand. 

PJ was obviously discontented, but Josie started anyway. 

“I don’t really like talking about juvie and everything that happened over the summer, um, you know, we get a lot of props or whatever cause people think it's so badass, But, really wasn’t. I mean, unless you consider getting hazed horrifically every single night, like, badass. I mean, obviously, you know, we had to survive the tributes, and you know, I did have to, like, fight people basically every single night. People were betting on us and we were given shivs and rusty pocket knives and splintered wood and, um, pipes as well.”

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows. No one’s going to believe this, She thought, turning to look at Isabel— 

–Who had the most distressed look on her face? 

Oh, Hazel blinked, shocked that Josie’s improvised monologue is working. There were almost tears glistening in Isabel’s eyes. She assumed Isabel to be the only one, then she turned to look at you— and your hand was on your mouth, eyes filled with woe. 

“And we had to just like, fight people, sometimes to the death,” Josie added.

Hazel frowned. This wasn’t good.

Josie continued.

“And I still hear their screams at night and that guilt probably will, like, always shackle me forever. And sometimes people still try to attack us in the streets for revenge, or try to blackmail us into doing bad things with them, but I realize now, I don’t have to be that person anymore. We don’t have to be like that anymore. We don’t have to just let things happen to us. Because of you guys. And I am just really grateful for what the club has become and… just especially, you know, from where we started and, uh…” 

Hazel’s eyes were leaping out of her face as she gestured to Josie to tone it down. She frantically shook her head, indicating that Josie’s speech had much more effect than she thought it would.

“Yeah, sorry,” Josie caught on, ending her facade quickly. “I feel like I kinda killed the vibe. I’ve never really, I guess, said that to anyone before, sorry.”

There was a silence that Hazel felt the need to break. This was bad– she knew Josie liked talking about her trauma, but she didn't expect Josie to make up the most devastating, hunger-games type of trauma in front of you. 

“But juvie also wasn’t that bad,” Hazel blurted. “I mean it’s probably way less scary than adult prison, and it really builds character–” 

You turned to look at Hazel who was rambling about the positive effects of juvie. Your heart broke at the sight of panic on her face– how harsh were the conditions of juvie that Hazel felt the need to protect her trauma? 

Josie cut in. “Yeah, okay, people wanna wrap up maybe or…” 

“I’m going through a divorce.” 

Everyone turned to Mr. G. 

“Whoo! That shit felt good to say.” Mr. G beamed, his leg stretched out as a free spirit. “Whoo, I tell y’all. Men… men need therapy.” 

Josie stood up. “Yeah… I think that’s a good place to maybe wrap up.” 

“What was that?” Hazel asked. 

Josie shrugged, putting on her jacket. “I don’t… I don’t really–”

“-I mean, you were just bullshitting from A to Z with no breaks in between. I didn’t know you were such an actress, Josie.” PJ laughed, playfully shoving Josie’s shoulder. “You should think about that, for your future career.” 

Hazel did not laugh. “Josie, you were the one who told me not to be ‘too much.’” 

“I don’t think it was too much. I think it was the exact amount of oomph we needed as a group.” PJ grabbed her shoes from the floor. “It made us look vulnerable but also tough.” 

“I don’t think (Y/N) was thinking that.” 

“Okay, How do you know what (Y/N) was thinking?” 

“I don’t, but I could see her–” 

“-Maybe she’ll tell you herself,” PJ said, pointing behind Hazel. 

Hazel spun around to see you walking towards her. She immediately straightened herself, touching up her hair as you waved to her. 

“Hazel.” 

Hazel gulped in response. 

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to finish the project today?” You asked, giving a shrug. “If you’re not busy. I know you’re always kind of busy and that’s why we just always did our project during lunch, but–” 

“-I’m not busy!” Hazel exclaimed, before mentally slapping herself for being too eager. “I mean, today sounds good. Today is perfect.” 

“Okay!” It was your turn to be eager, giving a nod before pointing to the girls locker room. “I’ll just get my bag, and I’ll be right back.”

As you slipped into the locker room, PJ and Josie slid towards Hazel with a curious look. 

“It didn’t look like she was angry,” PJ commented with a grin. “So, in conclusion, today was a huge success. Do you guys want to get chicken on a stick to celebrate?”

“I… I think I’m hanging out with (Y/N).” Hazel gaped, as if she couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. She was going to hang out with you. Today. Outside of school. 

“Right now?” 

“Right now!” Hazel gasped. “Oh my god, I don’t know why I said yes, I have to go and patrol the neighborhood–”

“-Ugh, Hazel!” PJ groaned, grabbing Hazel by the shoulders. “That’s literally all you do. You go to school, you come to the fight club, then you patrol the neighborhood. That’s all you do.”

“But—” Hazel sputtered. “-Crime–”

“-Hazel, Crime has been pretty low recently. The world isn’t going to burn down just because you miss patrol for a single day,” PJ countered, as if speaking to a child. “Do you trust me? It’s all about faith. That’s all it is. Leap of faith, Hazel. Leap of faith. Trust me when I say the police can deal with all the petty crimes. Go and enjoy yourself, finish your project, and remember to use protection.” 

Hazel’s cheeks grew hot as she opened her mouth to counter PJ— just as you approached the trio with your bag. 

“Hey, Hazel. Ready to go?” 

Hazel buffered, her mind still on the sexual innuendo. She couldn’t help but think about certain activities when you stood there with your signature smile, earning a cackle from PJ. 

“Sorry, we were just talking about juvie trauma and shit. She’s all yours.” PJ earnestly pushed Hazel towards you. “See you guys tomorrow!” 

PJ skipped out of the gym, followed by Josie who gave Hazel a thumbs-up. Hazel responded to Josie with a nod. PJ was right– it was just for a day. Just one day off to hang out with you– which was the dream– and tomorrow, she would patrol twice as hard to make it up. 

“Sorry, I just was thinking about-” Hazel faltered. “-things.” 

“Things?” 

Hazel felt the room get hotter. “It’s fine. Not really important.”  

“Alright. So, where do you want to go?” You asked. 

“Uh…”

Hazel thought about what PJ had said. 

Leap of faith, was it?

And she took the leap. 

“Do you want to come over to my place?” 

By 8PM, the two of you found yourself in Hazel’s room, caught in a fit of laughter. Pizza and snacks were strewn across her bed, and music played out from her laptop as you wrapped up the project— a lego diorama with a bunch of famous murdered women. It was quite inappropriate but also incredibly creative, and the ridiculousness of it all had you two in stitches. 

“I bet you 5 dollars that Mr. G doesn’t even have an actual degree,” You joked, adding a lego version of Casey Becker to the diorama. “He just showed up one day, and Principal Meyers desperately needed more teachers.” 

“And ever since the club, he’s just been handing out As to every single girl,” Hazel laughed, causing you to fall into a fit of giggles as well. She lived for your laughter, thanking PJ and Josie in her head for convincing her to skip patrol for the day. 

“Okay, I think we’re almost done. Just have to add the blood.” You grabbed the bottle of red paint and dropped some on your fingertip, then dabbed it around the lego characters’ bodies to create the ‘murder’ effect. 

In the process, you somehow managed to smudge some on your cheek, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hazel who had made a habit of staring at you all the time. 

“Oh, you got some on your…” Hazel tried, pointing to your face. 

You blinked, eyes focusing on her face as you registered her words. You chuckled in embarrassment, trying to find the paint on your cheeks and obviously failing. 

“Can I…?” Hazel breathed, and you tilted your head, allowing her to wipe away the streak of paint with her thumb. Her fingers moved delicately across your cheek, her eyes locked onto your’s. You could feel the warmth of her hand on your skin, and you melted against it. Hazel’s touch lingered on your cheek for a moment longer than necessary, and Hazel realized only after she had savored the view for a while.

She pulled away, breaking your gaze with a sheepish smile. Your cheeks were tinted with a soft blush, and you muttered a word of thanks before finishing off the project with distractingly loud heartbeats. 

The two of you stared at the finalized diorama in proud silence, taking in the project in its glory. It was messy and odd, but it was still illustrious. 

“Well, I guess we’re finished!” You clapped your hands to commemorate the ending of you and Hazel’s homework. 

“It’s been fun working with you,” Hazel replied, a little disappointed that this was the end of the project. What excuse did she have to hang out with you now?

You cocked your head. “Oh, don’t act like this is the last time we’re ever going to hang out together.”

“Really?” 

“Of course!” You grinned. “With Mr. G’s class, lunch, and the self-defense club, I’m going to be with you all the time. You might even get sick of me at some point.” 

I’m not sure that’s possible, Hazel thought to herself, really pleased that she had secured friendship with you. 

“Speaking of the self-defense club, I’m really glad that you invited me,” You continued, wiping your red hands with a nearby paper towel. “I was being honest during the sharing circle. I’m really grateful for you.” 

Hazel softened at your words. 

“And I hope your mom gets better with her mid-life crisis,” You added.

“Thank you.” Although you had complimented her, Hazel couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about the sharing circle. She was lying to you– continuously. Was that a good base for a relationship? Not that you two had a relationship. Not that she didn’t want one. “Listen– what Josie said about juvie today, I think I have to clarify some things.” 

You shook your head. You had purposefully left out that subject not to trigger her– and you didn’t want to make it feel like she owed you her history. “Oh, Hazel, you don’t need to explain anything to me. I get that it’s a hard subject to talk about, and I just want you to know that I’m here if you need anything.” 

Hazel hesitated. She supposed if you didn’t really want to hear the explanation, she could keep her secret—

“-I mean what you went through was brutal and inhumane,” You continued.

Hazel’s guilt suffocated her. 

“But you endured through it. You’re so brave. And so strong and just… honest. Like I can tell that everything that you do is genuine. You make me feel like I can be strong too—”

“-Okay, I need to tell you something,” Hazel interrupted. She couldn’t handle it anymore— but she knew she couldn’t tell you the whole truth. She took a deep breath before continuing. “There are some things happening in my life right now that I can’t really… talk about. But I want to. But I can’t. It’s for your safety and I shouldn’t even be mentioning that but… you really matter to me.” 

Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. 

Hazel swallowed hard and gazed at you for a reaction. 

“I do?” You peered back at Hazel’s reddened face. She nodded in response and it was your turn to be flustered, not knowing what to say. 

“And I… I want to be honest with you,” Hazel pressed on. “I can’t tell you the whole truth. But I—” 

“-Dispatch, we have a 10-90 in progress at the bank downtown. Requesting immediate backup and EMT support.”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit. 

Hazel quickly grabbed her laptop, which she had rigged to eavesdrop on police communications. She forgot that it automatically turned on after school. Why did it have to be now, of all fucking times?

“Was that the police?” You asked, confused. 

Hazel shook her head frantically. “No, I just– it’s just another, uhm, project that I’m working on, it’s fine–”

“-Copy that. Units en route. Proceed with caution.” 

“We have eyes on the suspects, attempting to establish a perimeter.” 

“10-4, be advised, we’ve informed EMTs, and SWAT is en route. Keep us updated.”

Hazel hastily began typing, searching up the latest updates on the current news of the town. She managed to find the location of the bank robbery— which had everything Hazel feared for. Armed robbers, high-tech weaponry, and injured police officers.  

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have skipped today,” Hazel muttered under her breath. 

You paused. “Skip what?”

“I—” Hazel swallowed, inner conflict evident as she spoke. “-I think I have to go.”

“Go?” You paused. “Hazel, what is going on?”

Hazel didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up and grabbed her phone and her backpack, briskly heading towards the door. But you were faster, quickly running and positioning yourself in the path to block her way. 

“I think I know what’s going on,” you claimed, your voice low and heavy. 

Hazel froze. Oh no. You knew. You knew? How did you know? Had she been so obvious? Was it the back flip?

“(Y/N), I can explain–”

“-This is related to juvie, isn’t it?” 

Hazel blinked.

“What?” 

She stared at you, who looked incredibly serious, with lips pursed tight in worry. Hazel shook her head frantically. She wanted to kick PJ for even coming up with that excuse– now it was getting all tangled up with you and her hero work. 

“No! It has nothing to do with juvie,” Hazel assured, trying to get past you.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Hazel.” 

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows. 

I kind of do. 

You understood her expression as guilt. “And obviously I don’t understand fully what’s going on but if what Josie said was true and some things are happening with the people you messed with from juvie, then, I want to help you.”

You stepped closer and took her hand, holding it tight with genuinity. 

“Hazel, I care about you.”

Hazel released her breath. 

If you had said that in any other context, Hazel would have kissed you right there and then. Your hands felt so warm, so gentle– a bit shaky, as if you were afraid of what she would do if you let go. And your unwavering eyes– upset eyes that made it seem like her worries belonged to you too— And it took everything in Hazel to swallow back her words, gently guiding you to her bed and sitting you down. 

For a moment, you thought she would stay. 

But Hazel pulled away from you.. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay? Just please, stay here, and I’ll be back,” Hazel whispered. “I promise.” 

And after a regretful look, she was gone. 

“Hazel—” You called after her. “Hazel!” 

Your mind began to race– where was she going? All you remembered from the police transmissions was something about the bank and the SWAT team. You reached for your phone, searching up the local news. It wasn’t hard to find articles related to the current conflict— 

Masked Robbers Employ High-Tech Arsenal in Bank Heist, Defying Police Response

Bank Heist Nightmare Unfolds; Thieves Utilize Cutting-Edge Tech

Bank Robbery in Progress: Impossible to Arrest, Police Say

Police Overwhelmed in Ongoing Standoff at 1st Street National Trust Bank

This was bad. Bank robbery? High-Tech Arsenal? It sounded dangerous– more than whatever Hazel could handle, no matter how strong she was during the self-defense club. What was she going to do with these criminals? Did she owe them something? She was always writing stuff in her notebook— did it have anything to do with this? 

You ignored the questions stemming from your fear– you didn’t have time to think. Hazel was out there— and she was very clearly heading to an angry, dangerous scene. 

But Hazel was just a girl. 

And you had to protect her.

You had to save Hazel Callahan.

Previous Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

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(Guys I don't know how a taglist works so just comment "Tag me next chapter" here BUT if you want to be tagged in all chapters, put "tag me in all upcoming chapters" on THIS POST ok???)

@valenftcrush

[sunderingstars]

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EIDOLONS ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, heavily aha!sampo

— word count: 3k (can you tell i'm an english major? :3)

— overview: (as of 2.3) hello and welcome back to sampo theory time! this time, i’ll be looking at his eidolons, their names & art, and how they might factor in to his overarching identity and story. there will be a few conclusions i reference in this post (like eidolons progressing in a linear narrative), so if you want more on that, i highly recommend reading my eidolon names as narratives and eidolon art as facets of character posts first! it’s not required reading though (god i sound like a professor) — otherwise, enjoy!

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To begin, I would like to humbly say this post will likely be the most nerdy thing I’ve ever posted in my life. I have written entire paragraphs about two singular words for this. Two words. And I have even more I can say about them! But anyways, just a heads up, this is the type of thing you’d probably see spoken by a stereotypical “nerd” archetype in a high school movie. But without further ado, let’s get started!

(Yes, I am sad that I still only have him at E2 despite pulling every time he’s on a banner. And both of these are from event character selectors :))

My main thesis for this analysis is that Sampo’s eidolons follow a similar narrative structure to other eidolon sets in that they start with his backstory and progress to the present (and open-ended future) of where we are in the story; additionally, the placement of these names with the facets of his eidolon art add to further implications for his personality and development. This can lend itself to multiple of my theories — the main ones I will be interpreting for are Aha!Sampo, Emanator!Sampo / Functional Aha, and Dual Consciousness!Sampo.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ AHA!SAMPO ⌝

Starting with Aha!Sampo, I interpret these eidolons as beginning at his “rise” to Aeonhood, then following through to him “spending” some kind of cost in the present/future for whatever his plans are. 

“Rising Love,” his E1, has two important components — “rising” and “love.” “Rising” seems the most obvious to me, as Aeons have been referenced to “fall” before, so it makes sense that they would also be able to “rise.” Additionally, Himeko has explained that Aeons “ascended from the form of intelligent beings” (Parlor Car Dialogue); beyond “ascend” being a direct synonym of “rise,” this shows that Aeons can come from physical and perhaps even humanoid beings. In fact, Aha’s lore in the data bank, while not explicitly stating that Aha used to be mortal, implies the “climbing” of the tree of existence and laughing, which is a very human act. (However, it is good to keep in mind that this is a parable told by the Masked Fools, and given the nature of Elation factions may not be entirely truthful.) In this way, “ascend” and “rise” may be interchangeable, and the “birth” of an Aeon could also refer to the “rise” of a mortal to Aeonic status.

Next is “love.” For this we need to think not as followers of a Path, but as an Aeon Themself. While it may be easy to think “If he’s Aha, it should say rising elation” — 1. That might be a bit too obvious from a writing standpoint and 2. From an Aeonic perspective, Aha may very well view “Elation” as “love.” They may view spreading Laughter throughout the universe as the ultimate form of love, and as such “rising love” could refer to the rising of a being capable of dispersing “love” (Elation) on a wide scale throughout the universe.

After the ascension, or “rise,” to Aeonhood comes Sampo’s E2, “Infectious Enthusiasm.” This is one of the more obvious ones in my opinion, as “infectious” implies a status capable of imposing itself on others — influencing them in ways that are perhaps beyond mortal comprehension — and “enthusiasm” is closely linked to “Elation” both in wording (starting with the letter E) and in connotation. “Enthusiasm” and “Elation” are both high-energy words, carrying the idea of excitement and even mania. I would view this as “Aha proper,” in which Sampo has come into his full identity as an Aeon and is thus capable of dispersing “infectious enthusiasm” onto others (Pathstriders). (Aha is also directly described as having “infectious enthusiasm” in the Simulated Universe!)

“Big Money!”, his E3, is particularly interesting to me because it seems like an intrusion — a departure from the other, more grounded names. The exclamation mark especially lends itself to the exact kind of “infectious enthusiasm” present in his E2, to some kind of encroachment on his previous mortal existence. This ties into my compulsory existence theory, in which Aeons by nature live in a sort of compulsive state, needing to adhere to their given “concept” just by virtue of existence; this is heavily influenced by the game’s discussion of “Primum Mobile”s, or the idea of “restrictions” that come from existing as an Aeon. Aeons that ascend from mortal beings would experience the brunt of this, as their previous state would essentially be overwritten by this eldritch, compulsive concept. 

I think “Big Money!” could symbolize such a change in Sampo. After ascending to Aeonhood from a potentially mortal form, intrusive thoughts of Elation encroach on his very being — the feeling of momentary thrill, of “Big Money!” — likely leading him into his next state: “the deeper the love, the stronger the hate”.

I’m not going to lie, I’m absolutely in love with the name for Sampo’s E4. It links back to so many aspects of his character in a way that sets up an amazing juxtaposition between his outward appearance and inward feelings in so few words! For me, “The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate” highly relates to compulsory existence. As we see in Aha’s splash art, the smiling masks — the Elation, the “Love” — are always at the front in the spotlight, while the frowning masks — the sadness, the “Hate” — tend to be obscured in the background by shadow. 

In a compulsory existence, I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to constantly be forced into performing a singular emotion or concept. In all likelihood, these negative emotions are barely able be felt at all, leading to extremely repressed layers of fear, anger, sadness and, yes, “hate.” “The stronger the love” — the stronger the Elation — means more repression, more hiding, a stronger fermentation of despising one’s own existence lingering in the background like shadowed masks — “the stronger the hate.” In this way, I believe Sampo’s E4 may convey this dual existence, of an existence where one side is so deeply, powerfully out-of-proportion with the other that any emotion from the other side is left to fester unchecked below the surface. 

(Note: The name could also be referencing the talent level-up, which would show the self-aware aspect of his character. This would apply to his E5 as well.)

This hate, of course, is then covered up by “Huuuuge Money!” (E5), because we can’t have those feelings swirling around in a being of pure Elation, can we? they must be taken out with the trash, overshadowed with yet another encroachment of exclamation marks and the thrill of sudden gains. After Sampo’s rise to Aeonhood, it must’ve been a constant battle between these underlying negative feelings and his compulsory, Elated existence — and given the linear progression of most eidolons, this must’ve been a pattern that repeated for millennia, over and over and over again, one he can never escape or solve. Perhaps it still is. 

Which is why, in his E6 “Increased Spending,” I believe Sampo may be “paying a cost” to try to alleviate this issue. Whether by becoming mortal, sectioning off his power to others, passing along his title, or any other number of potential solutions I don’t know, but I feel like he is turning his compulsive nature of Elation to the thrill of the “cost” in the hope of changing some part of this ever-chaotic, ever-stagnating existence. Either that, or it is to further a master plan we the audience don’t know about.

Overall, in terms of Aha!Sampo, I interpret these eidolons of tracking his rise to Aeonhood through his compulsory existence and fermenting self-hatred, all the way to “increased spending” trying to find a way around this problem.

Now, let’s take this a step further and add his eidolon art into the mix. This is where I’ll start to get into some of the conclusions I discussed in my eidolon art as facets of character post.

E1 (Rising Love): Keeping in mind “rising” as potentially referring to the rise of an Aeon and “love” as potentially referring to Aha’s idea of Elation, I see this figure as an ascending or untouchable silhouette; “walking” (or perhaps more aptly, climbing) into a new role. It also creates a distance between a potential “past” mortal form and a “current” Aeonic or ascended one.

E2 (Infectious Enthusiasm): I find it so interesting that “Infectious Enthusiasm” was chosen for the eye-centered eidolon. Since “Infectious Enthusiasm” is so, well, Aha-coded, this matches with the conclusions of first impressions and inciting incident from my eidolon art post. I believe this eye is meant to represent the first true “glimpse” of Aha people get — it is very close to the face without being too personal. It also spotlights Sampo’s unique facial features, mainly the almost condescending furrow of his brow. However, the eye itself has deep shadows, most likely referencing the dual hate within his being. This would be the “inciting incident” of Sampo in his Aeonhood proper, at the height of his power.

(Note: “Infectious” + the focus of an eye may further imply the presence of a “gaze” and the ability to distribute power in an Aeonic way.)

E3 (Big Money!): E3s are by far the most character-specific eidolon, with each character interacting with an important object to them. I feel like money is only fitting for Sampo, since it matches both the eidolon name and his obsession with making money. It very much leans into the “con-man” aspect of his character, and would make sense as the way acquaintances or those he keeps at arm’s length would view him (probably his customers).

I also find it extremely interesting how he is looking down. We see this a lot throughout his mannerisms and idles, with him always seeming to have a condescension that looks “down” on others below him. While this could be just another facet of his character, it also matches up with the way an Aeon may view the mortals around them — no matter how close They get to someone, that someone will always be “below” Them. It’s not even a conscious decision, just a natural byproduct of Aeonic existence, much like casting Their gaze down to bestow power on Pathstriders. Whether Sampo has become truly mortal at this point or not, it’s probably a bad habit to kick regardless. (I would also love to point out how him looking down at the money is also reminiscent of this (albeit more nostalgic and “loving”) face he makes towards Sparkle, a whole human being:)

E4 (The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate): Here, we zoom in even more on his personality. Beyond the superficial impressions people get from seeing him at a glance, we have now entered a more complex emotional understanding — his eye, unlike in his E2, is more faded and shadowed, the hand scratching his head and his smile pointing towards a sort of “act” he puts on for others. This shows multiple dimensions of him: both the charismatic, smiling con-man, and the hatred lurking beneath that façade’s surface. This would be in a more present timeline, highlighting his “fake” and mysterious nature as well as how he is portrayed to people who know him better like friends. It shows a clear dissatisfaction with the façade he has to put up; whether the “love” is also a true emotion to him is up for debate, but either way this eidolon has him balancing between these two sides of his being (potentially balancing between an eldritch and mortal consciousness, or dealing with the aftermath and residual power of a past Aeonhood). (He also seems to be looking down at the spot the masks would match up with if the silhouette was looking down in Aha’s splash art — it is possible that this “hate” refers to the hate he has for his power or the power of the masks. Or, perhaps, this looking down is a general way to symbolize a being of higher power looking down on those below them like Pathstriders.)

E5 (Huuuuge Money!): This eidolon is more casual and comfortable than the others — there seems to be no dual-sided hate, nor does there seem to be as prominent of a focus on obsessive moneymaking in the art itself (the name is a different story). Instead, the main focus is drawn to Sampo’s outfit, the moniker of his existence in Belobog. The upper half of his face is still cut off, but the art seems to be hinting at a potential comfortability in Belobog, as well as the future mystery of his true identity (and if he will choose “Sampo Koski” as his real self). I actually love this combination, because it shows how Sampo may be at his most casual in Belobog; it’s clear he’s made real connections with the people there, and regardless of his motives, it seems to be a place he deeply cares about. This would be his appearance to close friends, most likely those aforementioned connections in Belobog like Natasha or Seele. (However, the looming encroachment of “Huuuuge Money!” still hangs in the air, perhaps signaling a bigger issue with Aeonic consciousness persisting despite his best efforts.)

E6 (Increased Spending): Finally, we get to the core essence of Sampo’s being. This is him at his most vulnerable, his appearance to only a select few special people. His head is tilted, his neck bared, showing clear trust and confidence in this position. The main thing of note here is the similarities between E6 and Aha’s splash art — the same pose and build with a different tilt.

This would mean that Sampo’s identity as Aha is his most vulnerable form of being — the fact of others knowing who he truly is, of wading through his personable exterior to reach the truth at the core of him, is a privilege only a trusted few get. This most likely points towards the “cost” implied by “increased spending,” the idea that, for whatever reason, Sampo’s true identity being revealed at the wrong time or too soon would put him in a less-than-ideal situation. As such, it is something he holds close to his chest (at least in Belobog) either willingly or unwillingly. (Note: This could also reference a past identity as Aha, it does not necessarily have to be something he experiences currently.)

It also shows that the silhouette in the splash art is the “core essence” of either Sampo, Aha, or both. Beyond the masks (much like Sampo’s façade) lies a deeper, truer version of who Aha is. The true Sampo is not the masks or the smiles or the laughs, but the shadowed figure beyond them, the silhouette that holds the hidden emotions of an Aeon.

I would also like to point out that, on the whole, Sampo’s eidolons (and kit in general) focuses on damage over time. Interpretations can be varied, but I personally like to think this further references the idea of “cost,” and that staying in mortal form as Sampo may be hurting him over time just like his DOTs affect others!

Overall, the art for these eidolons paired with the names create a fuller picture of who Sampo might be and what he might be hiding. There are a lot of hidden clues and implications that can be applied to several different interpretations, and I tried to account for multiple in my analysis! The standouts for me are his E2, E3, and E6, but that’s just because of personal preference. Before I conclude, I want to briefly interpret these eidolons for some non-Aha!Sampo theories.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ALTERNATIVE INTERPRETATIONS ⌝

There are other interpretations to be had, namely Emanator!Sampo and Dual Consciousness!Sampo. Many of the points I made for Aha!Sampo can be applied to Emanator!Sampo, as we know Aha is both capable and willing to give others entire mastery over Their path for shits and giggles. It is possible that Sampo, as either an Emanator or a “functional” Aha or both, could have a similar “rise,” “infection,” and compulsory existence as a result of Emanator status. Additionally, any kind of dual consciousness where Aha is trying to impose Their will on Sampo could contribute to the constant push-and-pull of two schools of emotions — even minds. We could read this as a more literal encroachment of Aha on Sampo’s mindspace, quite literally trying to force Elation into his brain while Sampo’s consciousness fights back. In this way, the “love” and “hate” mentioned could refer to more of Sampo’s feelings towards Aha as a separate or encroaching entity, rather than himself or his own existence.

(Note: This could also work for Aha!Sampo where Aha’s power & status is passed down or won like a sort of crown or title — a “mask” if you will — and Sampo is the latest inheritor/receiver of it. The eidolons would then track from a more recent experience of receiving power and dealing with the encroachment that comes with it. I think it would also lend to much more fear and confusion as this new existence would be a stark departure from Sampo’s previous mortal life.)

(Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: This could also work with a “transformation” theory where Sampo’s more human form and his eldritch-Aha counterpart have two distinct mind spaces, and the “encroachment” of “Big Money!” and “Huuuuge Money!” could be indicative of the literal mental change that happens when he transforms, leading to increased spending (or the “cost”) of him trying to stay in human form as much as possible because he doesn’t like what he becomes when he changes.)

(Note 3: I promise this is the last one: It is also possible that Aha has sectioned off these feelings of “hate” into a separate being — i.e. Sampo — and “The Deeper The Love, The Stronger The Hate” shows that how despite being separate physical beings, Aha and Sampo share an emotional space in which the “love” of Aha directly influences the severity of the “hate” in Sampo. Just a thought.)

Anyways, I find these eidolons super cool! I love how Sampo flips through his bills in his E3 and how his E6 mirrors the silhouette in Aha’s splash art. Even if the Aha! or Emanator!Sampo theories don’t end up being true, there’s some really cool psychological stuff going on that could speak broadly to his relationship with money, gambling, and his own self-image.

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ if you read this far, thank you for doing so! it means a lot to me when people take the time to listen to my silly little theories, so yes, thank you! if you have anything else you want to add or if you just want to talk about these theories (which i am happy to do at literally any time) my askbox is open! hope you enjoyed my nerdy rambling :3

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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

As an autistic person, I want to say something about The Good Doctor.

Over the last month or so - but especially the last two days - Twitter has gone nuts about dragging the absolute piss out of this show. Because autism representation is so rare in major television shows or movies, I’ve been finding myself questioning whether The Good Doctor is in fact “good” representation in the slightest or if I’m just clinging onto it because it’s one of the few shows out there with an autistic lead… and people dragging the shit out of it has made me even more unsure because I’ve only seen one and a half seasons of the show so far and so I can’t really speak on how the show has done recently in regards to portraying autism.

Personally, do I feel that Shaun in TGD represents me and how I am autistic? No. But to be honest, I wasn’t expecting him to because autism is a spectrum and the areas where my autism affects my life will be different to other people’s; it’s also worth noting that it’s been shown that autistic traits are different in girls than in boys, and that girls tend to mask more etc. Obviously this does not apply to ALL boys and ALL girls, but in general it’s thought that girls and women tend to have different traits to boys and men.

With this in mind, Shaun actually does remind me at times of a child at the school I’m currently at - again, not 100% the same but there’s similarities in regards to how they talk, what they say etc. However, that child is five-nearly-six, and Shaun is a grown man so… do with that information what you will. There have also been a couple of moments I’ve had so far watching the show where it’s seemed like lightening has struck and I’m like “Oh that’s me!” - namely the social awkwardness and a meltdown scene. It’s not every episode, it’s only on occasion, but it’s been nice to see nonetheless because the only other time I’ve witnessed that with an actual confirmed autistic character is Newt Scamander.

Obviously I don’t speak for all autistic people, and I’m very aware that many other autistic people have expressed dislike and criticism of the show - and I get it, I truly do. I do think the show isn’t exactly the best written (to put it nicely) and that it gives a very stereotypical representation of autism, namely “white boy/man autism”. I don’t want to bash the show too much because while I’ve seen complaints about it, I’ve also had some fellow autistic people say to me that they love the show and that they feel Shaun represents them - and that’s great.

I do want to express my discomfort about the fact that people have turned a scene where Shaun is having a meltdown into a meme. There is a very fine line between criticizing a piece of media for bad representation and then mocking autistic meltdowns - and I think a lot of neurotypicals are in fact just using it as an excuse to laugh at autistic people and mock us. It’s not just that scene either: I’ve seen people mocking clips showing how he stands, how he talks, how he interacts with people, and it very much feels like people just wanted a chance to make ableist comments about autistic people.

It’s also interesting that this show has so far had six whole seasons air, it’s got extremely high viewership, and yet it’s only now that people are taking offence to a scene that occurred at least four years ago. I know that Twitter has had a field day over another scene in the first season where Shaun at first struggles to understand why a trans woman is “she” (which, you know, is a whole other kettle of fish given that I’ve seen it claimed that autistic people are more likely to be trans/NB etc), and far right TERFs/bigots were using that scene as some kind of “gotcha!”… right up until it was pointed out that by the end of the episode, Shaun fully accepted the trans woman’s gender identity and used the correct pronouns.

Again, I’m not saying this was brilliant writing or anything, but it was several years ago and is only now being brought up, same with other scenes taken out of context in the show… Yes, autistic people have voiced grievances with it before, but were ignored - I don’t believe for one minute that the neurotypicals making the memes and being preachy give one shit about actually autistic people or care about us, because otherwise why were our voices ignored before? It’s only now that it’s been getting public notice for the trans episode that people are going “ohhhh this show sucks and is bad representation” as if members of the autistic community haven’t voiced that opinion for years. It just rubs me the wrong way quite frankly.

What I will say is that I’m tired of seeing people drag Freddie Highmore though. He’s a good actor, anyone who’s seen him in things he’s done since his childhood will know that, it’s not his fault if he’s given shit scripts to work with. I do also think Freddie means well with his portrayal, even if he’s (as far as we know) allistic and the fact he appeared in an Autism $peaks video (because of TGD/all the cast did it) - the man has zero social media presence whatsoever though and didn’t even know what Pokémon Go was, so I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt this time and assume he truly hasn’t been informed about how harmful that organisation is. Or maybe I’m just going soft on him because seven year old me had an age appropriate crush on him eighteen years ago, who knows at this point?

I’m hoping all of this talk will open up a dialogue about the show and about the representation of autism, if nothing else.

[thedaythatwas]

TW: Hegel.

So, what’s up with Shuake and dialectics? Click below to watch this user (who is not a philosopher) give this (frankly too invested) analysis a shot!

Something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is the fact that most– but not all– of Joker’s confidant routes involve some sort of transaction. Joker does something for someone, Joker gets a favor in return. Joker’s identity revolves around what he can do for others. He’s got a different mask (haha game mechanic is narrative device etc.) for everyone in his life. 

Getting a little bit in my head about this led me to a (not-all-that-novel) realization: Akechi’s confidant route is largely non-transactional. Sure, he says that he wants to meet with you to talk about the Phantom Thieves, but that more or less directly translates to just wanting to hang out with you. The “favor” that you're doing for Akechi, if we follow the logic of some of the other confidant routes, is spending time with him. (Which is of course also about getting close to Joker for metaverse recon purposes… But I’d argue that amounts to more or less the same thing in the long run anyway). Really, that’s what your relationship with him is, up until you realize the heart he needs you to change is actually one of the big-bads of the game. And at that point… Well… 

Where am I going with this? I’ve also been thinking a lot about Hegel (I’ve seen some really fun posting about Akechi and Hegel on here this past week– thank you philosophy P5R tumblr!). Akechi’s paraphrasing of Hegel goes a little something like “advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis.” Hilariously, this is how he frames his desire to talk to you more, his flirting is just like me forreal I understand him etc. etc. BUT! The interesting thing here is that the game is cueing you to view your relationship with Akechi through the lens of Hegel’s dialectics.

More on that to follow, but first, I want to plug the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy’s page on Hegel’s Dialectics here– If you haven’t used it before, SEP is a reliable, peer-reviewed source. It’s great. I use it like. All the time. It’s good for getting the gist of big ideas when you don’t have time to read full texts. (Also if I get any of this wrong please know that philosophy is not my field and I’m totally open to constructive criticism.)

Hegel’s dialectical process revolves around three key moments: the moment of understanding, the dialectical moment, and the speculative moment. These moments can also be referred to as thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. The moment of understanding, thesis, is the point at which an idea is seemingly stable. In the dialectical moment, antithesis, this idea “sublates” itself– the idea is challenged and destabilized because an inherent contradiction in the idea has been made apparent–importantly, part of the idea is preserved. The speculative moment, synthesis, negates the contradiction. A new idea takes form, containing elements of the original idea that was sublated (Marx’s theory of history, anyone?) 

This process continues on and on. Ideas naturally reveal their contradictions, are destabilized, and resolve their contradictions through the creation of a new idea, which is challenged again. This is because the dialectical moment does not come from outside an idea. Antithesis is not an external push against thesis, but rather, the moment when thesis is forced into instability because of its own tightly-bound restriction. 

So back to what I was saying. The game kicks off your relationship with Akechi with a nod to, uh, all of that. Could this be a throwaway comment? Of course! But it’s much more fun to work under the assumption that it isn’t. So bear with me. Akechi is framing himself and Joker as thesis and antithesis. What does that mean? Why do I think it has something to do with Akechi and Joker’s relationship being non-transactional?

Previously, I’ve thought that in the context of their relationship, Akechi represented thesis, and Joker antithesis. This isn’t exactly true (at least per the criteria above) but I do think I was on the right track. 

At the beginning of his story, we can think of Akechi’s worldview as thesis. The world is a stage, and he is a performer. His entire life is dedicated to destroying Shido. It’s a key narrative element of P5 that Akechi doesn’t have confidant relationships (as contrasted by Joker, who has many confidants and becomes stronger through building up those bonds). He views himself as deceiving literally everyone in his life for his goals– his “fans,” his father, the Phantom Thieves. He doesn’t trust, because to him, trust is failure. 

Still, he’s starving for approval, and not just from Shido. You can see the inherent conflict between his desires and beliefs in just about every interaction he has with Joker, particularly those where Akechi overshares about his past. He desperately wants someone to hear him. I don’t think his (primary) aim in that was to strategically win Joker’s trust by showing vulnerability– if that was all he was going for, I doubt Akechi would have been so honest. He omitted information, sure, but he gave Joker the honest-to-god broad strokes of his childhood.  

When Joker comes into his life, Akechi comes to realize that his stable worldview might be wrong. Watching Joker and the rest of the Phantom Thieves reveals the cracks in his own internal logic. Joker has friendships and he is stronger because of them. When Akechi sacrifices himself for the Phantom Thieves on Shido’s ship, we see his moment of synthesis. If Akechi really still internalized all of what he said in his “Teammates? Friends? To hell with that!” monologue, he wouldn’t trust Joker to change Shido’s heart in his stead. To be clear– he probably would have reached this point with or without Joker’s intervention. Joker just happens to push Akechi towards self-sublation a little bit faster.

In Royal, we see a new iteration of Akechi. He doesn’t really regret his actions, and he is still very distinctly Akechi, but we can see that his original perception of the world has made a shift. He is willing to team up with Joker. While he may not place a great deal of faith in all of the PTs, he certainly has real trust in the protagonist. He’s learned that he can be recognized (dare I say loved?) without being perfect, and accordingly, his driving desire for approval has been displaced by his desire to never be so completely under anyone else’s control again.

But ok— that’s kind of an old take. Perhaps a hotter one: I’d also like to propose that Akechi does the same for Joker. 

As mentioned above, Joker’s identity for most of the game is defined by what he can do for the people around him. While a large part of this has to do with the fact that he is a playable character, this is a game, and a game needs to have things for you to do– it wouldn’t be very fun otherwise– it also seems pretty clear that this is part of his characterization. Joker is selfless to a fault. Like Akechi, he is a wildcard who can take on multiple personas. Unlike Akechi, instead of having a handful of personas directly linked to the core of his character development, Joker has as many personas as you want him to. He literally has a mask for every situation. You can equip a persona of the correct arcana to level up your relationships faster– a game mechanic, but also, an interesting meta statement about how Joker bonds with his confidants.

In Royal, however, Joker has the option to do something for himself. His greatest wish isn’t for someone else's happiness– it’s to have Akechi back, for selfish reasons, I would argue. Joker can sacrifice reality to keep him in his life, and depending on the actions you choose to take, sometimes, he does.

Loving Akechi teaches Joker to be selfish. This is especially poignant when you think of how adamantly opposed Akechi is to staying in Maruki's reality. Giving up the true reality to keep Akechi is a wholly selfish act on Joker's part, nothing altruistic about it. And if he doesn't make that choice? Well, don't forget about how Joker spent his wish.

He would have learned how to do this without Akechi– one tends to realize that neverending self-sacrifice is unsustainable sooner rather than later. Again, Akechi just pushes Joker towards effecting that self-sublation a little faster.

By spending time with Joker, Akechi learns that there are people he can truly trust. By spending time with Akechi, Joker learns how to put himself first. Their confidant relationship from this perspective is not only transactional, it’s actually one of the most transactional relationships in the game. Joker actively impacts how Akechi sees himself and the world around him, and vice versa. Their relationship is profoundly transformative for the both of them. To paraphrase Akechi, advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis.

But also, we can forget dialectics for a second. Even without a fun analytical lens, Akechi’s confidant route centers two misunderstood people who find understanding in each other. That’s enough for me!

[the-skybrary]

Our head protector, Raph, wanted to make a comic documenting some of his personal experiences, since he's a unique case to our system. Part of it was to vent and get the thoughts out of his head, but mostly he just wanted to send a positive message out into the community. We hope it finds you well.

Transcript of the dialogue below the cut:

I’m not like everyone else here. Most of this system is made up of various versions of the core, and they all look like some alternative of the body. A sporty version, a goth version, a punk version, a motherly version. But all of them are her in some way, shape, or form. 

There are some fictives here, too, of course. The ratio is about 4:1 though. A majority of the fictives have little to no source memories. They aren’t exactly who they’re based on, they’re their own individual, and they are able to separate themselves from their source. 

I can’t. I’m an outlier here. 

I have pseudo memories. I remember a life before I came here, and that makes things complicated. Especially because I have a very important job to do. 

As a protector, I stand by to help us through everything we’re going through externally. I have experience with dealing in heavy survival-mode situations, and that’s why I believe I was chosen to be here. But…it also means I ended up being given a lot of trauma memories from the body to hold onto, in addition to my own. 

I’ve made my peace with my role here. I like it, actually. I have a partner, and a family, unique to this system. I have friends, and I’ve even been able to meet and talk to my source family in other systems. 

Although I can’t ignore the way I feel sometimes, living in a body…in a life…that is not my own. 

I can’t ignore the real emotions I experience when my source updates. Seeing my family in distress or danger, and being unable to do anything to help causes me intense anxiety. Sometimes if body is having a bad day, the memories will sneak up on me. Other times we’ll see a part reblogged and it will trigger an intense emotion. Sometimes it gets so bad that it affects the entire body and system even when I’m not at front.

I would like to clarify, though, that I’ve never blamed the artist/creator for any of that. As a matter of fact, I think I lucked out with Cass’s Apocalyptic Series being my source. They’re good to me, to my story, and my family. It’s just hard some days, being able to see your life laid out like that to the world.

I feel like a river that was once whole, and then forked to become two. Suddenly I’m going in a different direction, and the path is unfamiliar. I’m me, but I’m not him. I’m us, but I’m not her. I have both memories from source and from body, and it makes me feel…wrong. 

I don’t belong here. I can’t mask well. I don’t know how to walk in a body this small. My voice is    too feminine when I speak. Being without a shell makes me feel naked, even with clothes on. My claws and strength are gone. All of it is just reminder after reminder that I’m not truly Raph anymore. If I ever even was. ‘Pseudo’ means ‘false’. Fake. Pretend. Unreal. 

But I’m Real. The me that exists here and now is real. I eat, I dance, I have hobbies and favorite TV shows. I talk to people in our life, and I form unique relationships with them. I exist. I am a part of this system, and that in turn makes Raph real.

I can’t explain why I have memories and emotions linked to my source. I can’t explain why I formed so differently than the others here. I’m struggling with my identity as I try to balance my job as a system protector with my place in the Outside World, and it’s a lot. Some days I feel stupid and ashamed. Some days I feel okay with it. Some days I don’t care. 

I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to be an alter in a system, no matter what your relationship is to that source, or even based on what your source is! You’ll figure out your own answers with time. They may not be easy answers, and they might make certain things difficult, but I think the most important thing is how you choose to move forward with it all. 

We have a saying in my family: Antawa Hitorijani. I guess I just wanted to let you know, if you’re out there and you relate to any of this, that you are not alone. And that I’m not alone either. None of us are.

~ Raph

[hopefulfuturenovelauthor]

Panic Room

Crowley x reader (gn) part 1

about 5,000 words. I hope you all enjoy and please do not copy my work, thanks!

Warnings: read through at like 1:00 am once so probably many mistakes, canon violence, the supernatural, angst (I guess), and language. Also slight warning, I’m planning on making this a 3 part/ maybe short 4th part mini series, but I take forever to write anything, this has just been sitting in my drafts for a couple of months.

Panic Room

Hell Raising

Hair Raising

I’m ready for the worst

So frightening

Face whitening

Fear that you can’t reverse

Welcome to the Panic Room

Where all your darkest fears are going to come for you …

Seven and a half months. For you a total of 75 years of brutal, unrelenting torture. Hell did not treat you well and to call you bitter would not only be offensive but also the largest understatement of the millennium. 

You loved humanity, you loved your life, and you loved those in your life. Despite this, anger was all you could feel toward the people that used to bring you the most joy. The ones that made you laugh, that made you a better person, and left you behind. You didn’t even know if they knew. 

You died. You died and as your deal had stated; you were going to hell. Readying yourself for the worst did nothing to help in the end. The place was so frightening at first, but with time you became used to the fear. It was nothing anymore. Your only goal in life was to never be afraid again. You knew what you needed, but more importantly, you knew what you craved.

You wanted them to pay. You made the deal for them. You made the deal with his crossroad demons. You took the price when the one that fucked up refused to take responsibility for his actions. 

You sacrificed everything. You lost your will to live and more. You didn’t want to hurt just anyone you wanted to hurt them. You wanted them to feel every moment of your torture and then some. You didn’t want revenge, you wanted justice.

“Belial, the wicked one, it’s great to finally see you, however, I had been hoping I’d be able to put a name to a face. Is the mask really necessary?” Crowley stalled.

“No, it’s not necessary, I just prefer it. After all, I did go back to get my face, and I wouldn’t want my old identity to get out there, now would I?”

“I suppose not,” Crowley led on, making his way around one of his numerous castle rooms in Hell, preparing the both of you a drink. “How do you like your liquor?”

“Well, more recently I’ve come to like a nice earthy aged scotch or whiskey neat. Whichever you think would be better. Either is much nicer than the cheap beers I used to drink. However, you still stick to the room temperature yeast water if I’m correct Dean and Sam. As for you Castiel, your grace makes it unnecessary to even try drinking unless you want a whole nother liquor store,” you turn slowly to look at the shorter hunter sneaking up behind you. 

Dean had stopped his stride as you started to speak of him. Sam carefully made his way out from behind a bookshelf to your left. Castiel walked with his usual cadence from your right, out of the darkness.

Crowley gulped as you slowly moved back to look at the King of Hell.  The brothers collected together on your left moving closer to the demon you were staring at. Castiel armed himself with an angel blade shifting to Crowley’s side. 

“It’s nice to see I’ve sent you into such a panic, my King. But all four of you, here, in front of me, it truly seems all of my prayers have been answered.”

“What are your grievances toward us?” Castiel questioned, as he held his position as a warrior of the lord.

“What the hell did we do to you?” Dean asked.

You chuckled menacingly, “Hell is exactly right, Dean Winchester. As for my grievances, I simply can’t move past the fact that I was left here to rot.”

“We don’t even know who you are,” Sam said, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

“I assure you, you know exactly who I am.”

“What is it you wish to do to us for our mistreatment of you?” Crowley did not seem bothered by your accusations. He was in fact satisfied with his work, but only because he did not know whose face lay under the cover of your mask and hood.

“I’m simply going to take you to where all your darkest fears are going to come for you.”

Crowley scowled at this. Castiel raised his blade. “You can’t hurt me, angel, you promised.”

“I have only ever promised that to one-“ Castiel stopped speaking. The look of sudden and horrifying realization dawned on his face.

“Cas, Cas, what is it, who are they?” Dean asked as Sam tried to get Castiel to share the information he had just come to understand.

“Well, I don’t care who feathers promised to protect. This is my kingdom, no one threatens me,” Crowley pulled out his angel blade only making it a step forward.

“Really, Crowl,” your voice sounded as it used to, no longer holding the facade of an old and ancient demon, “when have you ever beat me one-to-one? We could make another bet, you’ll have to finally take me to that one restaurant you're always raving about and saying you’ll bring me to.”

His face fell immediately. “No,” it came out of his mouth with a hint of denial, but his eyes begged for what he was thinking to not be true.

It was your turn to smirk at the demon. You did so as you took off your mask and slowly removed your hood.

“Y/n,” Sam’s voice came out breathy. You were unexpected. Dean’s face whitened entirely, finally understanding Cas’s silence. 

“We burned your body,” Crowley’s voice was breaking and eyes watering.

“You should have gone to Heaven,” Castiel stated.

“And I would have. If I hadn’t made a deal to save you lot from Lucifer,” your nostrils flared and your glare was directed at the Winchesters. “You were like brothers to me. I saved you! And you!” your gaze turned to Crowley, “I was given two goddamn years, by your crossroad demons. And my life ended up shorter than determined because I sacrificed myself to save all of you. And-and you, you let me rot in Hell.” Your voice broke on the last sentence you let slip.

Each of the men before you crumbled at the weight of your words. Not a single one of them could look you in the eye. 

“Do it,” Dean said. No one spoke out against this. “Do what you need to do, make us pay. Just, please, let Sam out of this.” The begging was something your demon side liked, but the human part of you was sickened by it.

You walked forward, reaching out to cradle Dean's face in one of your hands. “No,” escaped firmly from your lips that were stuck in a hellish smile, fully displaying almost pointed teeth, like that of the many monsters you had all killed together.

The fear that followed your statement caught you off guard. Sam, Cas, and Crowley all flinched at your answer and Dean fell apart. 

“Please,” the pleading returned. Dean looked about ready to beg you from his knees.

“I do not want revenge. I want justice. Congratulations, I don’t want to kill you any more than I want to kill anyone else at the moment. I want you to look at me and see what I am. I want you to know what you did. I want you to understand I screamed, and cried, and begged for each of you to save me. I want you to know that I held onto hope for so long,” the tears began to escape from your blackened eyes, “I thought you would come for me. I thought you cared! But you left me, never thought about me. You didn’t give any part of it a second thought. So this is punishment fit for the crime. I am a demon,” you looked at Dean, “I am not your friend,” you looked at Castiel, “I am not Y/n,” you looked at Sam, “and one day I rip this Kingdom from your grasp,” you looked at Crowley, and stepped back to view them all, “most importantly, none of this is personal. You left me behind, now I’m leaving you. You will forever recognize that you messed up and I will always be a reminder of your guilt. You are nothing to me, even if I am something to you.”

You began to walk off, reaching for the handle of the doors you had walked through earlier. You spared only one glance back before walking out, making one final blow, “goodbye boys.” After that, you simply disappeared.

—

“Your majesty,” the demon croaked out in fear.

“What?!” you snapped at your underling as you looked up from the scattered plans of hell and general paperwork. The demon shook under your gaze. It concerned you at times that your demons feared you so much. You were more of a force to be reckoned with than Crowley and he had been a demon for far longer than you had. The cruelty wasn’t what you wanted. You had hoped the damage done to your soul hadn’t changed you as much as it obviously did, but you supposed that was just your luck. “I apologize for my brashness, Anthony. I’m simply busy and stressed. Now tell me, what is the matter?” you looked at the demon before you with as much care as a demon can have for their personal assistant in a strictly platonic way.  

“I’m afraid the Winchesters wish to see you. The short one is in the palace with his angel,” he told you still wary of your scrutiny.

“Here… in Hell?” you questioned. Anthony nodded, swallowing down his hesitance. 

“They threatened to start killing your people if you refuse,” he said.

“Ahh, send them in then,” you told the demon, “make sure they know that if any harm comes to you I will be far less willing to even give them the time of day once they arrive.”

With another small nod, he walked off to collect Dean and Castiel. It had been a year since you had last seen any one of your old ex-friends. Hopefully, they would leave you alone if you showed little interest in their affairs.

As quickly as he left, Anthony seemed to return. Dean and Castiel were in tow, following behind the demon. You raised your brows at your loyal subject asking him if he was alright. As always Anthony kept it short with a brief nod before gesturing toward the door. You responded curtly back. Neither of you needed words to truly understand the other when it came to such dealings. 

“You seem to be doing well down here,” Dean said, rocking on his feet, a telltale sign that he was uncertain and needed to calm his nerves somehow.

“Yes, I suppose us demons just have a knack when it comes to Hell,” Dean paled at the distance of your voice. It still destroyed him that this was you now. All he saw was your body, but it wasn’t you inside, not the you that had been like a younger sibling to him.

You asked Dean what he was doing here, but he did not respond.

“Dean,” Cas said.

“Yeah.”

“I asked what you wanted,” you said again, this time he was actually aware. 

“Oh,” Dean was certainly out of it. Even Cas seemed to be affected by your voice. He tried to show it less, but Dean looked struck. If you had any empathy for them you would have felt bad. But you had none.

“Look,” you turned to actually face them, abandoning your work, “I’m not unreasonable, and I doubt this is a social call. I know that most of what you do tends to keep newer, larger, and more concerning players off the board. So what can I do for you so I can get back to my job and you can get back to yours?”

“We need help,” Dean replied.

“We need to find the angel tablet,” Castiel said. He seemed off somehow, even just slightly. He felt off too. It could have just been your new keen magic skills. You had recently been looking into seer magic and empaths.

“Oh,” you let out, leaning back into your throne, “Sorry, little above my level at the moment. I can get you a referral though. May I ask why you need this specific artifact?”

“So you’ve heard of it?” Dean pressed, stepping closer. Your eyes flitted black and he took a cautionary step back.

“I’m afraid I don’t let demon hunters and their angel friends too close, out of self-preservation. As for hearing of it, yes, I have. Let’s just say some information trickled down from Crowley’s kingdom.”

“Is this not all his Kingdom?” Castiel’s head cocked to the side.

“For the moment. It’s always healthy to have some respectable competition.”

“Who would this ‘referral’ be?” Dean used air quotes awaiting his likely disappointment.

“Ah,” you sighed, “I had a feeling you would ask that. Sadly, Crowley would likely know more than I would.”

“Crowley isn’t going to let us anywhere near him,” Dean argued.

“Well, that isn’t my problem. I’m not the one mucking around in other people’s business, now am I?”

“Y/n-” Cas started.

“It’s Belial or your majesty, angel,” you barked.

“I apologize, Belial,” Cas looked devastated. Fuck, what was that pang in your heart? Why did it hurt so much?

“He won’t talk to us. Not while he has the demon tablet,” Dean tried to present his case.

“Yes, and that has to be the one thing he is actually doing well at the moment, keeping it away from you, good for him. Now if that is all then respectfully, get out of my palace.”

“Thank you, Belial.”

“Cas we can’t just-”

“We can and we will, Dean,” the angel as always responded firmly and apathetically. Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder ready to fly out of your throne room.

“Castiel,” you said, your voice louder than it had been before that it echoed around the room.

The angel did nothing more than look at you expectantly. “Be careful, I don’t believe any of this is going to end well for you.”

“I will be fine,” he said.

“No, angel, I mean it. I have this feeling, watch out, please,” this was the closest you had ever been to who you used to be.

“Okay.”

—

“You, you helped me, why? I- you said you wouldn’t,” Crowley fumbled as you freed him of his restraints.

“Trust me, it’s not personal. You’re just easier to overthrow than Lucifer. So, as many say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” The locks clicked, releasing the demon crouched beneath you. You dropped the chains to the floor and pointed back and forth between the two of you, “This little alliance will only last till Lucifer is back in his cage. After that, I will go back to ignoring your existence, other than me trying to take over Hell.”

“Well, I can’t say that isn’t logical. I suppose I’ll make do,” Crowley rubbed his wrists.

“There is no making due. Neither of us wants Lucifer in charge of anything. That would be bad for both of us.”

“Why is that so bad for you?” Crowley looked at you with curiosity in his eyes, “You want to ignore me forever. You wish the same for the Winchesters and Castiel. So why would joining Lucifer and letting him kill us to be so bad?” 

“I-” your loss for words was concerning to Crowley when it came to this form of you. The demon you was hard to throw off their game.

“Well?” He egged you on.

“How could you ever think that I want you dead?” your voice was low, as was your gaze. You avoided looking at him. Keeping your voice steady was harder than you expected.

It was Crowley’s turn to be at a loss for words. From the start, he had thought you wanted revenge as much as you claimed you didn’t. You were a demon after all, and you thought he and the others had wronged you. He fully expected you to fantasize about each of their ends.

Finally, your eyes found his face. He never thought he would see them as broken and hurt. The glossiness of your tears was begging to spill over. “You scare me. But never, ever believe that I want you dead. I can’t trust you. I can’t be around you, because I am afraid. Because I know if I have to I’d do it all again. Seventy-five years of torture to make me hate all of you, and only three to make me care for you enough to screw myself again. Fear is an incredible tool for motivation. So yes, I’m afraid of what Lucifer will do to me, but I am just as afraid of what Lucifer will do to you.”

——

“So you're the little demon ex-hunter Fergus is obsessed with?” the red-headed witch mewled.

“If you are asking rhetorically then you likely already know,” the answer was monotonous.

“I see why he likes you so much, this body of yours is most certainly a looker. You’re also far more mature and intelligent than the other demons.”

“Back off posh female Ron Weasley.”

“I’m afraid I don't know who that is.”

You rolled your eyes as she followed you like a dog seeking attention.

“Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, your son and I are not on speaking terms. Whatever he says to you about me does not pique my interest or concern,” you turned to walk away from the witch.

“What about the fact that there’s a human pregnant with Lucifer’s child,” her voice was smug, but her words made you stand straight. “I see that caught your attention, darling.”

“You have 10 minutes to tell me everything I need to know before I leave,” you growled at her, your black eyes attempting to bring fear into her soul.

“Well, that should be more than enough time. Once I finish with all the boring stuff, we can chat. My name's Rowena by the way. You should probably know that considering how much Fergus talks about you. With his enthusiasm I’ll one day be your mother-in-law.”

“I doubt it, considering,” you mocked her and gestured to your eyes. “Either way, as much as Crowley may talk about me, he most certainly talked about you.”

“All good things I hope,” she smiled at you. It was as if every gesture of hers and every action was manipulative by nature. You understood his hatred for her, she didn’t have a genuine bone in her body. You hoped for Crowley that would change, but at the same time, you wished she would finally let him go. He was far too caught up on the woman that never loved him the way she should have. But you would never tell him that, or anyone for the matter.

“Nope, even if there was any good to share, it would never have mattered, not based on everything else he told me about you.”

“Well,” she looked at you, for once appearing less devious, “I hope I can change that.”

“You can’t, and even if you technically could, it wouldn’t mean anything, because once more, I don’t care and I never will.”

———

Juliet nudged your leg. You were situated at the table in the bunker’s library. For the past year, you have riddled yourself with vigorous research and learning. You had been impressive before all of this, but with the extra reading and practice on spells, you were more powerful than you ever really imagined. You were more powerful than Sam, Dean, or Castiel ever expected you to become. It wasn’t necessarily healthy, but considering the track records of each of your respective companions, you were doing much better. 

The gorgeous black-coated supernatural dog whined a little to fully grasp your attention away from the article you were reading titled, He-Wolf/She-Wolf: a Study of Werewolf Transgenderism. You had honestly been curious about the intersectionalities of the two, but after a couple of pages in the read became more of one for pleasure than one for research. As much as you found it interesting it didn’t aid you in any of your studies. Still, you thoroughly enjoyed it, even bringing it up in conversation with the Winchesters and Cas when they talked to you. 

Placing down the paper you looked up at the adorable now one-year-old you had taken under your demonic metaphorical wing. Jack was the sweetest little antichrist you had ever seen.

“Hey kid, whatcha doing?”

He didn’t look happy, in fact, he looked unhappy and a little guilty. It made you sad to see him upset, after all, he was your one and only nephew, and you loved him dearly. He was the only reason you stayed around so much. The others you could care less about, but you’d damn yourself again for the boy before you. Juliet could sense his emotions as well, and ventured slowly over to the son of Lucifer. She gently brushed against the kid's leg. Without a thought, the boy petted the Hell Hound.

“Jack,” your voice was laced with concern, “is everything okay? Did something happen?” The boy looked away with sad eyes and the slightest pout, “come on kid it’s your birthday, you can’t wallow in your negative emotions with me around, not today.”

“Do you blame me?” he asked, looking back at you with tears in his eyes.

“Jack,” your voice broke as you stood up to embrace him, “of course, I don’t, whatever would I blame you for?”

Before you could reach him, he stepped back.

“Jack,” with every second you grew more worried.

“Because it’s my fault. Crowley would be alive if I had never been-“

“No,” you said firmly. But Jack only flinched. You didn’t waste time this go around, immediately engulfing him in a hug. “Don’t say that kid, don’t say that. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I could never blame you, and either way, it wasn’t your fault. It was Lucifer’s and mine and Sam’s and Dean’s and Cas’ and Crowley’s. We all knew what we were up against, but you kiddo, you couldn’t possibly be at fault for anything that happened that day. I just got a little unlucky alright, the best thing that ever happened to me occurred on the same day that one of the worst things that have ever happened to me did. I love you, Jack, I love you, and I can tell you without a doubt none of it was your fault, but most importantly, none of it was your responsibility.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried into your shoulder as he gripped you right.

“Shhh, shhh, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you patted his head softly.

“I just-I just know how hard today must be for you. I know how hard it is for Sam and Dean to look at me- I” 

You pulled away, but only slightly. With precise movements you wiped the tears in his cheeks away, “It could never be hard for me to look at you, unless,” your voice cracked, “unless something happened to you, I- I love you, Jack. You're my nephew, you're the person I care about the most, okay? You could never make me truly mad or upset with you.”

Jack nodded the tears in his eyes finally slowing down, “I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, Cas knows, Sam knows, Dean is getting there, and he should have already gotten there okay? Dean- Dean just- don’t let him get to you kid.”

“He has every right to-”

“He has no right,” you said clearly to Jack, “he has no right.”

“Thank you,” he sniffled.

“Always, kiddo.”

“I um- I found these,” he showed you the old photos of you and Crowley before you had become a demon. You carefully took them from his hands, avoiding looking at the photos of the two of you. It was a mystery as to how Jack found these, considering that you hid them away from prying eyes because you yourself refused to look at them. 

———

“Get off my throne,” you growled at the witch.

“Ah,” Rowena smiled brightly, “Y/n, I’ve been waiting for you to show up. How have you been?”

“I was doing fine until I heard you're quite non-demonic arse was sitting on the freaking throne of Hell! You are not a demon, Rowena, what in the name of my goddamn sanity are you doing?”

“Just filling in the position. No one else took a grab at it,” her nonchalance was really starting to piss you off.

“Fuck off, Rowena,” the witch gasped shocked at you and your words.

“That is no way to speak to your, Queen, or a friend for the matter,” she held a hand to her chest.

“Get off the throne,” you spoke through gritted teeth, eyes blackened, and voice course.

“Darling-” Rowena had yet to move.

“Get off his Throne!” your voice amplified at your outburst. Dark magic encircled you, inky black coils, spreading out from your body. Tears escaped your eyes with the same fervor and enthusiasm as Lucifer escaping the cage. 

Rowena wasted no time bounding from the throne and to you. You were so lost, so without focus. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Darling. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay, everything is going to be okay. Shush child, let it out, let it out,” she tried to soothe you. To your surprise, it somewhat worked. She had calmed your angered state, but you were still a sobbing mess on the floor. With careful and caring intent she gracefully brushed your hair with her fingers, humming sweet melodies. 

It felt like hours, hours of Crowley’s mother combing your hair softly swaddling you and your grief. “It’s alright, Darling,” she cradled your face in her soft, deadly hands, brushing away stray tears that hadn’t been caught by the fabric of her skirt. “I suppose, well I suppose, Hell could always use another monarch, don’t you think? You would be a wonderful ally, you would make a wonderful leader.”

“Why couldn’t it be me? If I’d just- If I’d just told him that I, that I, that I lov-” your body broke down again, your throat aching for the sobbing to stop. Your eyes pleaded with you to stop mass-producing tears, but your heart couldn’t handle the hurt.

———

Your heart was doing better at handling it now. You sat beside, Rowena. Two thrones, two leaders of Hell, one King, and one Queen. All demons respected you, followed you, and were loyal to you.

You were the only demon that resented you for sitting on that damned throne. But that was only half the time. When you felt this way, it was often that those you still had around distracted you from those thoughts or blatantly told you how wrong they were. Sam often joined the both of you in Hell, enjoying his time with you and Rowena. Jack seemed to become like Rowena’s grandchild. She constantly taught him new things you had to reteach him about because of her adverse teaching style. Somehow out of the two of you, it was the demon that had the better grasp on morals. Castiel typically stopped by to grab Jack from your palace or frequented your palace with Dean. As always the two were as close as ever. 

Those two and Sam were practically Jack’s three dads. Dean had finally moved on from what had occurred between Jack and his mother. The idiot even apologized to Jack after all the shit he put the poor kid through. Like the bright little ball of sunshine he was, Jack forgave him instantly, despite you telling him that he didn’t have to accept the apology right away or at face value. Jack let your concerns roll off of him, telling you he knew Dean was being sincere.

It took you longer to forgive Dean. The hunter even tried apologizing to you. It left you a laughing mess because you couldn’t fathom what warranted his empty words. You had heard Dean say it himself, that he often apologized to Sam without even meaning it. With time and patience, you moved past his ignorance, realizing some of your own. It was often demons get bitter, your negative emotions heightened, and your positive ones lessened. One day when he and Castiel had come to pick up Jack you extended the olive branch necessary to replenish as much of your friendship as possible. Dean gladly accepted your offer, stating he would love to have your help on cases, whether it be research or the actual hunt. With a smile on your face, your gaze moved to the incredible Nephilim you had helped raise standing beside his chosen father. Your only last hope for all of them being that Dean finally confesses to Castiel as well.

The smile remained on your face for the rest of the day. Despite not needing sleep you were preparing to go to bed. The cell phone you had been gifted by the hunter brothers rang throughout your room just as you were moving aside your covers. Reaching over you received a nice greeting from Sam. It seemed Dean had told Sam what you had said earlier that day. Snapping your fingers, your cozy fleece pajamas were swapped for your preferred choice of royal attire. A quick swoosh and you appeared at the library in the Men of Letters base. 

———

You didn’t like this one bit. In fact, you dreaded this quite a lot. 

[tempestgnostic]

i want to write an essay at some point about the parallels between my phantom shifts in terms of my gender and my alterhumanity, but specifically from the perspective of why most ‘gear’ makes me incredibly dysphoric or feel more distant from my body. for now i’ll just detail some thoughts on the matter.

so i have, over the years, never learned my lesson that packers don’t actually make me feel gender euphoria—even the one i got that has a sheath and everything, that should make me feel more akin to who i am. i think it’s because i’ve gotten so used to the visceral, weighty experiences i have with phantom appendages already. i know what those body parts feel like, and i can interact with them almost as if they are. explicit anatomy and sex discussions beneath the cut.

like, it’s not just about ‘jacking off’ what is essentially empty space between my legs. i know every bit of anatomy intimately, from tip to base. it’s, weirdly, how i was able to give great head to my ex, despite it being my first time. with zero instruction on the subject, i knew what would feel good—and, if i’m being frank, she wholeheartedly agreed. and it’s way more satisfying for me to just manipulate those phantom parts versus having something there. and i even have a toy that you can put a T-dick into and jack it off that way! i’ve used it before, and it’s fun! but something about the physicality of it brings me into a space where i realize it doesn’t ‘click’ with me.

there are incredible studies out there about the use of prosthetics and how, for some folks, their brain begins to ‘inhabit’ them in a way that is incredibly profound. their brain integrates the prosthetic into the body map. it is a part of their body the second they identify it as such, of course. it’s just really neat how the brain agrees and works to cement that fact within itself. for me, i think the infrequency of my use probably contributes. the really good genital prosthetics are super expensive, and i’m not sure if i could handle the cost, the maintenance, all of that. maybe someday.

but i feel the same about phantom shifts. sure, i have a badass leather dog mask, but it doesn’t feel like me when i put it on. it feels like a mask. and when i’m in a shift, it feels like a mask superimposed over an actual muzzle that feels way more real to me. my identity, both as a trans person and as an alterhuman, is extremely sensory for me. i suspect being autistic plays a huge role as well; i need to have my hair stroked gently, to have somebody run their fingernails over the fur on the back of my neck, or kiss me and tell me how soft my beard is. i need to be pressed up against someone after sex, ‘locked’ in place even when there’s no knot there, not even a toy, just the sensory experience that both of us can feel. (i’ve had two sexual partners, independent of each other, tell me that they explicitly felt like i was locked inside them, and i hadn’t even told one of them that this is how i see my body.)

to have someone else who can feel that anatomy the way that i do? that’s the greatest gender and species euphoria i have ever felt, bar none. i felt so connected to my body—to my partner’s body—in those moments. that feeling was greater than any orgasm i’ve ever had, and that radiant euphoria is why i’m desperate for more of that feeling. i mean, hell—i can give myself an earth-shattering orgasm any time i want. i regularly feel like i’m turning time and space sideways and seeing the face of god. that’s easy. but the need that sex fulfills for me, really and truly, is the need to feel like myself—so much so that my partner feels it, too, and loves what they feel from me.

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Fear pt.1

Din Djarin x f!reader

both POVs

summary:

You walk into a cantina, searching for the bounty you were after, only to be taken up on an unexpected partnership

*Angst, fluff, flirting, a bit of an overconfident reader (lmao)

much love,

Rose xx

I walked into the cantina on Tatooine, scanning through the filthy crowd of criminals for any sign of the bounty I was after “...damn” I curse to myself, when I was suddenly cut off my a cold, modulated voice behind me. 

“Can I be of assistance” asks a man in full beskar armor. 

“I don’t think so...” I respond, moving to get out of his way. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. He had obviously heard you cursing to yourself.

I rolled my eyes, “fine. Have you seen this man”, I asked holding up a hologram with the face of a the crime lord I was after. 

The man’s helmeted gaze never left the hologram... he was genuinely trying to analyze it. I was taken aback by the fact that he was actually trying to help me.

“Yes”, the man responded flatly. 

“Yes... what?” I asked, looking for a bit more context to his answer. 

“Yes. I have seen this man.” The armored man said, his helmeted face now directly facing mine. I couldn’t help the chill it sent down my spine. 

“If you aid me in finding him... I’ll split the bounty with you... I assume you’re a bounty hunter as well” I said in a serious tone, indicating I would stay true to my word.

“Deal... but if you double cross me I will not hesitate to bring you in as bounty too....”

My breath hitched. Was he making a vague threat or did he actually know who I was? I decided to let it go... not eager to hear either possibility. 

As we walked out of the cantina the armor clad man let out a chuckle “I’ve never met any man so unafraid of working with a mandalorian...”

I stopped in my tracks, removing the helmet I wore in order to hide my identity when following a bounty... “I am no man.” I say flatly, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. 

If it weren’t for his helmet I would’ve sworn a look of shock crossed his face. He took a small step back as if to examine me better... “impressive”.

I rolled my eyes... “I better be impressive for my skilled combat rather than the fact that I’m a woman”

A low, modulated, chuckle came from the mandalorian’s mask, “of course”. 

We walked to the ship the mandalorian insisted we take... a razor crest

“Damn... I haven’t seen one of these bad boys in a long time” I say in an impressed tone, giving the ship a small love tap before walking inside.

the ship was neat and smelled of blaster fire and a clean, musky soap

“So...”, I speak up, unable to shake the feeling that the eyes behind the man’s mask followed even my slightest of movements. 

He ignored my attempt to start conversation, but I was persistent and refused to let him ignore me. 

“C’mon handsome, you’re stuck with me now” I said with a smirk. 

The mandalorian stiffened in the pilots seat, “don’t call me that.” He said flatly, and continued charting your course. 

“What... handsome?” I asked in a mocking tone, only to be ignored once again.

A few hours pass as we sit in complete silence, an awkward tension hanging in the air

“We’re here”, the Mandalorian said.

“So... he speaks” I teased... ignored again 

I follow the large man out onto the planet he brought me to...

“Wow... it’s great” I added sarcastically as I scanned the frozen wastelands of Hoth. This earned a chuckle from my stoic partner.

“We will have to start a two hour trek.... You prepared for that” He said with a slight mockery.

I simply started walking ahead of him.

“Wrong way, princess” 

Dank farrik I curse under my breath, trailing behind him.

we continued our silent trek and the few times that I tripped in the snow, the Mandalorian instinctively reached out and grabbed me... I could get used to that 

“So, if we are going to work together, what should I call you,” I asked in earnest.

“Mando is fine”

“No, I was asking for your name”

“... Mando is fine”

I was confused, but then I remembered how secretive his people could be... I let it slide.

His voice broke into my line of thought, “What should I call you”

“Y/N” I answered, “*nickname*, if you’d like. Though to get my last name you’ll have to torture it out of me first” I ended with a quick chuckle. I hadn’t given anyone my last name for as long as I could remember, I was...too traceable.

“Y/N”

“Mando”

“It’s settled then”, he replied in a way that signaled the conversation was over. 

////////////////

I looked down at the woman trudging next to me, trying my best not to kick snow up onto her as she was already sinking waist deep into it. 

I wanted to say something... anything, but there was something about her that made me nervous. Maybe it was the fact that she was too trusting, or because she was another bounty hunter littered with battle scars... or maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t afraid to flirt with me, even in jest.

It was moments like this that I was grateful to the creed and my loyalty to it... the helmet was nice when you act like a touch starved school boy at any slightly flirtatious comment from a pretty girl. 

[waywardsalt]

my grievances with botw

Breath of the Wild is... undeniably a fantastic game, but it is very genuinely not the kind of game I like, and since I started playing it I’ve been enjoying it less and less so... I have a pair of problems with it that I’d figure I’d go into, as well as some stuff that, while weak in botw, were executed better in past loz games.

(small shoutout to @zeldanamikaze for encouraging this and having some points that i agree with and had some examples that i hadn’t thought about much initially)

Again, Breath of the Wild is an objectively impressive game, and I’m not trying to sit here and convince you that it’s a bad game. I’m just trying to point out things that detracted from my enjoyment of it, especially compared to my enjoyment of other Zelda games.

Before I get into the big stuff, I’ll just shoot off some quick little things that I think could’ve been improved:

- The dungeons generally felt like glorified shrines, and while they had cool mechanics and ways to access them, they were short and more or less pretty simple and all have similar visual and musical identities.

- Side quests and their rewards didn’t feel worth doing half of the time. I barely remember any notable ones off the top of my head and the longer ones just gave mostly generic rewards, which I suppose makes sense considering the limited amount of truly unique items in botw.

- Seeing the same enemies over and over again made the combat feel more like a chore than something to really engage with, not to mention that there is hardly any difficulty scaling beyond just making the enemies more durable.

- The story is fine, but in my experience, even seeing people go into more detail about the meanings of events, I never really cared for the events or the characters presented, since you don’t actually have to directly interact with any of that to play the game. Hell, you don’t even need to interact with the story at all to beat it, so the focus certainly doesn’t feel like it’s on the story.

- It would be a lie to call the soundtrack bad, but it’s sparse usage makes it hard to truly appreciate and the fact that most of it is meant to be more atmospheric generally makes them a bit less interesting to listen to on their own, though I will admit there are some fantastic tracks in botw, usually being some of the boss themes.

- While the Sheikah slate runes are cool, they feel very bland after a while, especially compared to the varied items seen in previous games. They’re good tools for an open world, but not much fun otherwise (the bombs were good though, since they had a variety of uses).

And that’s the quick stuff- again, mostly courtesy of @zeldanamikaze, since these are the examples I’ve seen her mention.

I have two big points that kind of encapsulate why I dislike this game and still adore the older games, that being: the minigames and the items and their relationships to dungeons.

Breath of the Wild is a very different game than what came past it, and I am very aware that it is a vast departure from those other games for a reason. However, this leads me to view it not only simply as a game not up my alley, but also as kind of inferior in some aspect to those previous Zelda games. Breath of the World is first and foremost an open world game, seemingly putting a focus on gameplay enjoyment above all else (not to imply that the ‘else’ is bad because of this, but I do think that the ‘else’ suffers in comparison to other Zelda titles.)

It may also be worth mentioning that the other Zelda games I have played is the following: LoZ NES, Link’s Awakening (Original and Remake), Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask, Phantom Hourlgass, Skyward Sword, A Link Between Worlds, and Triforce Heroes. I have also played both hyrule warriors games as well as loz 2, wind waker, and minish cap, none of the latter 3 i have finished or currently have access to.

1: The Minigames

Minigames are common in Zelda games, so of course botw has a few scattered around it’s world. Botw’s minigames are very different than the minigames seen in past Zelda games, mostly due in part to the limited array of items and unique gameplay gimmicks available in botw. Botw’s minigames usually focus on different forms of archery, gliding, or rune usage: all things integral to normal gameplay. At best you get rupees or cosmetic items from most minigames.

Botw’s minigames are just slightly altered situations of normal gameplay. The bowling is just using stasis except this time the game has a special little arena for it. Pretty much all of the archery games are either just counting how many deer you can kill or if you can just hit some targets on horseback. There’s one race I can think of and one gliding activity I can think of.

This makes sense, considering that there are a handful of other non-minigame activities to engage in, but these minigames feel... hollow. None of the minigames feature gameplay exclusive to those minigames or feature gameplay only used in certain parts of the game. They all make use of readily available mechanics in botw, so they’re like tests of skill- but otherwise not really any worth giving a second-thought unless you want to see how good of a glider or archer you are or grab some extra rupees.

But they aren’t very... worth it or generally fun within the context of botw. It’s just another way to do something that is available to you pretty much all game. They don’t feel unique, they just feel like a task.

Previous Zelda games (obviously) have archery minigames and allow you to use archery when you get the bow and from that point onward. And yet the archery minigames are made unique from the rest of the archery in the game; ocarina of time’s archery minigame is simply just shooting at targets, but the possible rewards and the simple fact that not often are you going to be continuously shooting arrows at enemies make it a bit of a novel experience within oot. The minigames in past zelda games take advantage of the items and area-specific mechanics: they usually include item-exclusive mechanics like bombchu games, or take advantage of more specific mechanics, like the minecarts in skyward sword, the masks in majora’s mask, or being able to control gongoron in phantom hourglass.

They also gave genuine rewards- empty bottles, quest items, ship parts, new masks, heart containers or pieces, kinds of stuff that are hard to get and very valuable. They’re worth doing for reasons outside of just a little activity. The minigames in other Zelda games do really enhance the experience by taking advantage of situational mechanics or giving a unique usage for some items.

You can probably get every item in botw without playing all of the minigames. They have little actual purpose. But in other zelda games, they have a purpose in the greater game and provide novel experiences within the game.

2: Items and their relationships with the dungeons

Obviously, compared to past games, botw’s ‘dungeons’ kind of sucked. They’re fine in a vacuum, with interesting gimmicks and the like, but they’re really little more than glorified shrines with four different-but-similar bosses at the end.

In my opinion, one of reasons why the divine beasts just... fell flat compared to other zelda dungeons is the lack of unique items in general. The runes in botw are cool and useful but you get them at the start of the game and never get anything new. You are give every tool you need to beat all of the dungeons the moment you finish the tutorial.

Older zelda games’ dungeons being tied to their respective items is a big part- to me- of what makes those dungeons so good.

Obviously, the theming, musical themes, and larger layouts and more varied puzzles make them objectively better experiences, but the way they interact with item acquisition makes the whole thing even better. 

Even in a link between worlds, where you can get every item whenever you want from Ravio, each dungeon is still tied to one of those items, and one of those items is needed to successfully complete that dungeon.

The dungeons in past Zelda games are practically complex tutorials on how you can use your new items. They are where those items shine and they are designed so that those items are used to their fullest potential within. And then you must then use that item to defeat that dungeon’s boss, and you usually have no chance of beating that boss if you don’t make use of the dungeon’s associated item. It’s like a final test for the item, seeing if you know how it works enough to complete the dungeon and use it against a boss’s weaknesses.

The most recent example, and probably one of the best, is needing to use the whip to tear off koloktos’ arms in the ancient cistern, but the classic scenario of the bombs for king dodongo works well enough, and the bosses of majora’s mask requiring you to understand how the transformation masks work. There are definitely some bosses that require no use of dungeon items (moldorm in the tower of hera, either ghirahim fights), but the item’s usage is still showcased prominently in their dungeons.

Outside of the dungeons, too, the progressive acquisition of items makes more areas and secrets available to you, giving a much more palpable sense of progression through those games’ worlds.

In botw, you get every tool the moment you are released into the rest of hyrule, so while figuring out what to do with those tools can be fun, the sense of progression is dampened by having every item from the start and nothing you gain beyond that being needed for anything aside from a nice little ability to make things easier.

I’m not really too sure exactly why I never found botw fun the way everyone else does, but I think lackluster minigames and the general lack of items that aid a sense of progression are parts of it.

[markofamaestroofficial]

For Love and Acceptance, and Kindness To and For All: A Christian Essay & The World’s Wake-Up Call

By Maestro

Greetings and salutations, everyone. My name is Maestro. I am a Christian, Autistic, Queer cisgender man, and I am so angry at how the world is right now. First off, so many people are so gosh darn repressed right now. They can’t be themselves freely due to how society treats them, judges them, and, in some cases, harms them for being who they are when being who you are does not harm anyone. Granted, if you are harming someone, that’s a whole ‘nother issue. If you are, you need to seriously reflect on yourself and what issues are causing you to act like a jerk to people just trying to live their lives. I would recommend therapy. That’s another tangent for later in this essay. Trust me. We will get there.

               Going back to where we started, I have been masking for most of my life. What is masking, you ask? Imagine you take a core part of yourself and push it way down. Some folks, like me, pushed it so far that that we don’t even feel and recognize that we are, in fact, suppressing ourselves. And that is so harmful especially for us Autistic folks, even if you don’t understand it. As a matter of fact, this sort of masking has caused me, and so many other Autistic folks so much trauma. The fact that me and so many other people, whether they be Autistic, part of the LGBTQ+ community, or anyone who society doesn’t understand and doesn’t make an effort to understand are ostracized just for bein’ who they are NEEDS to change.

Every single one of us is a creation of the Lord, no matter if they don’t fit into society’s mold. The fact that we even need to hide who we are and our identities, when it doesn’t even harm anyone- especially when doing the opposite and loving ourselves for who we are and having people around us who do the same is so freeing and helps us to finally love ourselves and feel free to be boldly us and happy. Doing so doesn’t hurt anyone, our actions to cause harm and repress people for being the wonderful person The Lord made them to be is what hurts people. Granted, if who you are is someone who does want to harm people, you need to, as I’ve stated, take a serious look inward. Why do you feel this way? What are you feeling inside that drives you to hurt and judge other people just for being who they are? Why, why do you want to lash out at other people like this? And if you hear this and feel rage building up inside of you, ask yourself this. Why are you feeling this way? Self-hatred? Anger towards something really bad that you had to endure in the past? Whatever the root cause, your feelings are valid. I get it. I have experienced so much self-hatred towards myself for my entire life without even realizing it until recently, and It really sucks. Darn, does it suck.

However, your feelings do not give you justification to hurt people, say things, and act in ways that make others feel like they can’t be who they are. Especially seeing as, as I’ve stated, being yourself doesn’t harm anyone. What harms people is taking actions that harm others and not treating them with kindness, love, and respect. And if you read this and feel that sense of rage building up inside you, ask yourself why. What is it that bothers you about hearing that I want people to finally be able to be accepted and loved for who they are, be who they are freely if it isn’t hurting anyone, for wars to finally end, and for people to finally stop hurting each other and finally be kind, loving, and supportive to every person on earth, regardless of our differences and what society deems as flawed when simply being who you are doesn’t harm anyone? Like I said, it’s our harmful actions that hurt people, not being who we are. Because I’m sick of masking who I am and not being able to be the fierce, loving, compassionate, justice-oriented individual that I am just because of how the world treats people who are different and treating us like we’re less than. We are not. We are just as fully people and in our own ways as everyone else is, and we need to start treating people as such. We need to start listening and believing what Jesus and The Lord taught us: love one another as ourselves and pay no one back evil for evil. We haven’t been doing that as a collective people nearly to the degree that we should, and that needs to stop. I repeat. The hate NEEDS to stop. It needs to finally end.

Whether they be neurodivergent, LGBTQ+, what have you, we have a duty as The Lord our God’s creation to love people as ourselves and pay no one back evil for evil. And by no one, I mean no one. Jesus called for us to love one another as ourselves, regardless of their flaws and the painful, messy parts of themselves, such as the trauma each of us has faced. And what have we done? Prevented people who desire get into relationships outside of the hetero norm, like myself, from marrying and being in love with who they choose and what feels right for them because of misconceptions. We ostracize Autistic people, like myself, for stimming and fidgeting and self-regulating in a way that just helps them feel better in a world that oftentimes, time and time again, treats us like we’re weird, broken, and infantilizes us like we’re helpless children that aren’t competent, capable, wonderful human beings, just like everyone else is. The reality is that we are the opposite. We are people who just as beautiful, wonderful, capable, and beautiful ourselves like every single person on this planet should be. We also go to war and terrorize, hurt, and kill people in order to solve human conflicts. The fact that that even happens in the first place is so gosh darn screwed up that it makes me sick.

I am sick of people hurting each other and not allowing people to just be themselves and love whoever they feel in their hearts of hearts that they love when it doesn’t harm anyone just because much of society is so gosh darn hateful. And, yet again, if you read this and feel that feeling of rage bubbling up inside of you- like I’ve said, ask yourself why. Take a deep look inward and ask yourself why you are so upset at me for telling people that we need to stop harming each other and finally, finally love each other for being the wonderful people The Lord our God created them to be. Whatever the reason, as I’ve already stated multiple times, whether it be self-hatred, pain that you experienced in your past, what have you, it does not, in any way, shape, or form, give you or any single individual anywhere to ever exist, who exists now, or who will exist the excuse or right to cause harm to or repress anyone for any reason when they’re just bein’ who they are and not hurting anyone.

As I’ve finally stated so many times over the course of this essay, we need to be better and kinder as a society. Heck, as a world and human race. Do you know the power that simply including someone has to impact a person, in the best way possible? Simply asking someone how they’re doing, if they can sit with you for a meal, showing them your favorite thing that you love, inviting them to hang out and finally be included by a honest to goodness, true friend that accepts them, includes them, and loves them for who they truly are can save a persons life- both emotionally, and sometimes, literally. I know, at least for me, if I was just included in things and had more friends earlier on, especially during my childhood, that actually loved me for me and not the mask that I put on for pretty much all of my life, my pain that I’ve been repressing for pretty much my whole life and caused me so much self-hatred would likely be filled with so much upfront joy and confidence. That is why the world needs to change. We need to be able to feel that way about ourselves and finally love each other as ourselves like what Jesus told us to do, since we, and I mean every sing one of us who has lived, does live, and will ever live in the future, are The Lord’s creation, and The Lord loves us for who we are, regardless of all the flaws we have inside of ourselves. As Jesus said, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” (John 13:34). Praise Jesus. Amen.

[moonjxsung]

awwwwww your friend and his girlfriend are so cute!!! they should get fully into kpop and love felix even more.

i’ll update you when i know more about the rescue kitties then! i know the black kitty’s doing well but i haven’t heard from the calico that was injured aside that was back at the vet bc she wasn’t eating😪

and also, i had a dream. that randomly included skz at the end bc why not. i dreamt that i was part of this group of like vigilantes but we couldn’t know each other’s identities but we still like texted. and we had like the most domestic tasks ever like rescuing cats and stuff like that. so eventually we started sharing identities (the girls specifically) and our boss kinda made us move in together. and the group had this leader who came to the apartment once in a while with costume and everything. and there was this other member who had been flirting with me so i just went along with him. and once all the members (three girls including me and three boys) were at the apartment and we all receive a text. and it turns out that it was the pairings for a new skz music video (me, ofc, a super non visually appealing person in a skz mv)😭 and we were like in the kitchen counter/bar and the leader and i were standing. and the girls got their matches and it was like felix and seungmin i think. (so ofc i’m like lino pls🤞🏻) and i opened the message and it said “Bangchan!” and there was a qr code that when i opened it took me to a number in my contacts and it was the leader😭 and we just looked at each other. and the other guy just took off his mask and he wasn’t a member of skz or anything so he got staff. and he just leaves. and chan and i are still just looking at each other and he just takes off his mask and is like “ok yeah it’s me” and im like “weird, that out of every person i could get, it was you, huh?” but like flirty and he just comes up behind me and presses into me and is like “i don’t think that’s weird at all. i think it was pretty carefully thought out” and i decide to tease him being like “i kinda wanted lee know ngl” and he turns me around and we start making out.

this dream was just like strange af bc like where did you come from vigilante thoughts. i was into batman like in high school but not too much anymore. and ofc skz had to just be there. and the fact that it was like kinda pervy posesssive bangchan who orchestrated that we were paired together bc i usually love fluffy cute chan (this is my first dream where chan appears alone!) i am conflicted, nonetheless always love a skz dream.

ily pookie have a great day🫶🏻 i’ve never said this but sorry for the long asks😩

-🐈‍⬛

I agree!!!!! They’re huge fans of rap music and Billy Strings (who I just discovered and have taken a considerable liking to because of them) but they totally respect the kpop sphere as a whole and they follow Felix very closely to fangirl alongside me 🥹 they are so so precious to me I love them

Yes please update!! Sending all my love to both kitties (and praying for miss calico 😢) it’s so hard when you’re just waiting on news regarding cats so I know exactly the emotional state you’re in right now, sending all my love to all of them AND you! And thank you again for taking such good care of them 🥹🫶

HAKDPFPDKSLEKRKRK HELLO???? THAT SOUNDS SO HOT???? First of all we need to get you in a skz music video ASAP…….. also perv!Chan ?????!!::!:!:!!:3!:!/? MY BRAIN IS SO FUZZY…… I need to write more perv skz but somehow I’ve never considered perv, or like VERY heavily into you Chan and I am SO here for it. Isn’t it so weird when you dream of another member and you wake up like ⁉️⁉️😭 I once had a dream about pink haired Seonghwa from Ateez and I have never been the same…. Though most of my skz dreams are just Jisung (clap if you’re surprised!) and I’m so here for it. He’s a great kisser in my dreams if you guys are wondering

MY DREAM….. was fucking awful last night LMAO I had a dream that I was in a library and I was in one of those quiet rooms studying and all of a sudden Jeongin comes in fucking COVERED in blood (he was wearing that white button down outfit from his Dazed cover) and he just looks at me and tells me that if I don’t include a library in my first book about him I’m going to die??? HELLO???????? I didn’t even want to post anything about it here because I was so fucking weirded out and I don’t even have ideas for his book yet but yall can trust it will include a library somewhere in there I guess 🤕😵‍💫 I’ve been having a lot of dreams about my writing and some of them spark inspo but I guess some are also just straight up threats LMAO

ANYWAYS…… I hope you’re doing well my angel!!! Have the best week and take care of yourself! Fingers crossed for the kitties and that you get to make out with Chan sometime soon XOXOXO 💕🩷💓🫶👼

[simlicious]

I'm still here

Hey all, I’ve been quiet for some time now. I was pretty shaken and exhausted from everything that happened last month and I am not ready to go back to creating/posting regularly yet. A lot of trauma/buried things have resurfaced lately. I need more time to heal and come to terms with everything. I also feel so inadequate and frustrated when it comes to my sims stuff. An update to my blog theme is long overdue too. Unfortunately, I’m out of the loop with html/css coding and not satisfied with any of the premade themes (I’d have to edit them to my liking). I just can’t  seem to do any of that right now. I also planned to return to meshing, but there are new approaches and methods people use, that I have not tried myself and it all seems so daunting and overwhelming. Every time I open a mesh wip I get anxious and close it again. I cannot even do anything pattern-related, because even looking at patterns makes me think of my ex-friend. In fact, being on tumblr at all is pretty hard right now. I do occasionally comment on/like posts, but it’s a bit reduced right now. I try to distract myself by deep-cleaning my apartment (which is a tangible thing and definitely overdue) and playing Elder Scrolls Online, which gives me at least a little sense of accomplishment. I’m also in a sort of identity crisis and have been for a few months. I think I might be neurodivergent, which would explain a lot, but I am also doubting that I display “enough neurodivergent traits" to actually get a diagnosis. Also, I brought this up in my last therapy and my therapist said they highly doubt it/do not see the signs. It might also be a reason why my therapies have not been successful. I did not know anything about masking at that point, but neurodivergent people compensate and mask very frequently, so... maybe that's what I was doing. I just feel like I am the oddball that does not fit in anywhere and it sucks. I also face another challenge with my website hosting costs, they got increased again, and I definitely need to do another fundraiser, but  I do not have the energy or capacity to rally like that right now. If you read this and want to help me out without fancy banner posts and detailed explanations, you can find out how to donate here. I also do not have the capacity to change hosters or anything like that at the moment, that would be a massive undertaking with months of preparation and would break all links to custom content finds sites, which is one of the biggest reasons I still want to keep the website. I only have 5 weeks until I need to pay 264 euros for 2 years of hosting (132 for 1 year). I want to skip next year’s cost increase by paying for 2 years upfront if I can manage it. The money will only be used to maintain my website. Any amount will help and is hugely appreciated! Thanks for helping out and for reading and interacting with my long posts 💜

[blackamethyst04]

Prowling Spider

My Spidersona and Her Backstory.

My Name is Amaiyah Brooke, but my friends call me Mai. I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for the passed three years, I’ve been the one and only prowling spider. On earth 425. And these past three years, have been the worst years of my life. During my first year, my parents were murdered in front of me and I’ve been raised by my Uncle Aaron, aka the prowler. I do what I need to do to survive. Which is frowned upon. I fight anyone I have to. Doesn’t matter their alliance. For the first few years I was used as an assassin towards King Pins enemies. So yea, I’ve killed a few people. My second year, I got into a run in with this weird vampire guy, who ended up tossing me into a collider on accident. I hope it was an accident. He was brawly, and really tall. I think he was Hispanic? Anyways, I didn’t die, but I became some sort of a monster. I’m a vampire, with a suit that glows in the dark, really my veins glow in the dark.

Recently, King Pin betrayed me. He wanted my power for himself. So he went from my boss to my Arch Nemesis. During these times, I had only one person who stuck beside me. He was a Funky Kid that usually failed all his classes because. Efe the Government. We were not always friends, I actually just tutored the kid for a bit and be became my best friend. His name is…well was…. Hobart Brown. When Kingpin saw that he was one of the only people I trusted. And went after him, I could have beat him, but this weird white guy covered in spots attacked me, so I didn’t make it fast enough and, He killed him, right in front of me. He died in my arms. So, I killed kingpin.

I took Hobie to his family, and they hated me. Other than his sister who knew who I was. She gave me his guitar pick, which I wear around my neck now. I am not sure how I got here. I didn’t want this power anymore if it meant everyone around me that I cared about die. So, I tried to end it all. But, someone grabbed me before i could drown. The same Dude who threw me in the collider. He took me to this Spider society. And told me I couldn’t die anyways. Due to my mutations. His name is Miguel, Miguel O Hara, who is the worst person you’ll ever meet.

He thinks he’s some saving Grace. And I hate him. Recently I’ve been working along side him go help put the dimension back. Fighting has always been something that helped me get rid of my pain. I used to struggle with really bad anxiety. Until I got these powers. I’m glad that’s gone. I’ve been making a name for myself in the Spider society. I go solo on a bunch of things. And I always come out victorious.

Miguel thinks I need to work with other people. But that’s rich coming from him, The person who refuses to ask for help when he is out numbered. But, I agreed. But, I wasn’t prepared for who he teamed me up with. In fact I think he did it to throw me off guard. He teamed me up with the group of trouble makers as he called it, Gwen Stacey, Pavitir and…Hobie Brown. Which is the perfect copy of my deceased best friend, just add spider powers. When I found out their identities after a few missions, I talked to Miguel. Which is where this story starts.

“MIGUEL WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Calm down, niña. What is the problem.”

“You know what the problem is Miguel. You could have at least warned me.”

I argued as Miguel walked away from me, I continued to walk behind him. I noticed the four in the room as I kept walking and arguing with him. I enjoyed there company but I don’t think I can do that again.

“What’s with her?”

Gwen asked. Watching me as I walked and argued with Miguel. Pav looked at us shocked.

“Can she do that? She can just argue with Miguel and not get attacked it threatened to be killed.”

Pavitir asked.

“It’s a metaphor for monarchy.”

Hobie said. At that moment Miguel basically told her to get over it. So you rolled your eyes pulling her mask back on and walking to the group. We had another mission already.

“We have a mission.”

She said bluntly, she noticed Hobie push himself in a chair in front of her. She stopped looking down at him through your mask.

“What’s wrong, you seem upset.”

He said with a cocky smile. His accent coming out at every word. Pav then swung before you.

“Yea, do you not like us anymore. I thought you enjoyed having us around, what changed?”

Pav expressed. She sighed and pat pav on the shoulder.

“I do. I just. I dunno, it doesn’t matter we are stuck anyways.”

She said as she pushed passed Hobies legs, sending the chair rolling a back. Hobie got up and shoved his arms in his pockets as he walked. You opened the watch, and went to the world the next anomaly was. Noticing…it was earth 425. Your earth. You gave Miguel a glare, as you guys walked into the portal.