#Essentialism mention CW

[unhinged-transmasc-man]

I really do think that some trans people see the word “man” in trans man and their brain shuts off. Their brains go “Oh, man. Man privileged and bad. Men evil and oppressive. Therefore you, Man, equal evil and oppressive. I do not consider you a person now.” The usual acknowledgement of identities and nuance and lived experience they willingly apply to every other group flies out the fucking window. They are so blinded by gender essentialism they completely dehumanize trans men. They don’t know what to do with us in their simplistic bullshit radfem gender politics. Saying trans women are women doesn’t make you not a radfem, deconstructing bio/gender essentialism, and the belief that all masculinity and men/men-aligned/masculine people are inherently morally evil/oppressive/corruptive, and that all femininity and women/women-aligned-feminine people are inherently morally good/innocent/oppressed, THAT is what you have to do to not be a radfem, at the very least.

I am sick to death of non-trans men acting as if trans men never interrogate what it means to be a man. It is in the DEFINITION of being a trans man. We have thought about what it means to be a man more than anyone else (interestingly, trans women also have to grapple with manhood and masculinity in being raised with patriarchal expectations and realizing they don’t fit them and don’t identify with manhood). We build ourselves up from nothing (in terms of making the world acknowledge us as men instead of forcibly trapping as us “women”), we have to make our bodies match who we are, we have to figure out and be determined to be boys and men before anyone else knows we are. We are trans BECAUSE we are men. We have to figure out what being trans and what being a man means to us. Our sense of manhood and masculinity will always be rebellious (not by our own choice, but in the way any oppressed group is rebellious in existing). Trans men are inherently an anti-patriarchal concept. Obviously trans men can be misogynistic like anyone else, but the claim that transforming into a man is automatically misogynistic is radfem trash. The idea that identifying as a man suddenly erases experiences of misogyny is so inherently alien to the actual lived experience of all trans men that it can only come from people who do not interact with, care about, or view trans men as worthy of listening to, or even acknowledgment at all, or even just outright hate us for existing. Non trans men seem to legitimately think that putting on a binder will make cis people see us as men. That is not how it works, and the fact that I have to SAY THAT just shows the absolute miserable state of how rampant anti-trans man attitudes are (anti-transmasculinity more generally but specifically with trans men).

Trans men think about manhood a LOT. We think about it a lot, because manhood and masculinity are central to our identity in a way that is different from any other group of people. We are taking previous experiences and concepts, and re-framing and re-creating those concepts with what fits us. We have to completely construct both womanhood and manhood. It is also a different kind of thinking of being a man because we actually are the men in that situation, “the man” goes from being Other to Us. The complete disregard for our personal experiences, and the reliance on non-trans men and their endless parade of disgusting and bigoted options rather than US is very telling. Trans men have a unique perspective: manhood and masculinity, and the patriarchy (they are not the same thing) were likely traumatic for us, but our own masculinity and manhood are freeing and liberatory for us because we are trans, and because we are trans men. Obviously we don’t want to be what oppressed us, so our usual conclusion is to do masculinity and manhood in a different way. And yet is it so common for that to be turned against us, to assume that because we are trans men we must be willingly aligning ourselves with patriarchy without a second thought. But some trans people do not want to let us do a different form of masculinity, because they see all masculinity as inherently the same, equally oppressive, and evil.

We have a deeper understanding of misogyny and constructs of manhood than most people. We have a deeply profound awareness of how gender works, we live with it every day. Our perspective is critical for advancing any sort of gendered liberation of trans people, and to act like it isn’t, and to act as if only people who do not identify with manhood or masculinity have an inherently more valid perspective is gender essentialist nonsense. Gender is fluid and can be interpreted in many ways, the harmful ways of the patriarchy are not inherent in masculinity or femininity. Masculinity is not inherently oppressive, the patriarchy is. Of course people not allowed to be men who insist on our right to be men anyway think about our identities all the time. Far more than the people who make these nonsensical claims in the first place. Quite honestly, the only way to make this better (what we can do, because 1. It’s not our responsibility to make non-trans men not hate us and 2. Non trans men need to do their work in fixing their attitudes about us) is for trans men to use our voices and share our point of view. Anti-trans man and masc bigotry relies on silence and deliberate violent erasure, and it’s harder to do that if we never be quiet. Our identities are not morally wrong. We deserve to take up space.

[turquoisephoenix]

You mentioned that you think after Grubba gets out of jail he has an uneasy friendship with Prince Mush. Do you think you could elaborate on that some? Like what do their interactions look like? Just curious as to how you think a murderer and a revived victim of his would act as friends

Okay, this one might be a little long, takes a bit of setting up, and involves some headcanons.

And I will emphasize that the relationship is "uneasy" and they're not exactly inviting each other to watch movies or anything. Grubba should be thankful that Prince Mush even wants to speak to him and give him occasional updates on how the Glitz Pit is running, at his request, while he's sitting in jail and later under house arrest (albeit a cozy house arrest at his tacky rodeo clown of a home, but he has to do it all with an ankle monitor).

Prince Mush is just something of a saint, very mellow, and extremely forgiving. He's just a bit of a wide-eyed shonen protagonist fueled by the power of friendship.

To explain why Prince Mush is so understanding where Grubba was coming from with his most terrible actions, both Prince Mush and Grubba have similar backstories - they were originally from poor backgrounds but then climbed their way to the top to become champion fighters.

This leads me to believe that Prince Mush grew up as a fan of Grubba. Especially since I made Grubba the type of fighter that had a LOT of merchandising and star appeal thanks to some rather aggressive contracts by his fight promoter/agent, who swooped in and saw a business opportunity. Prince Mush had secondhand toys of Grubba that they found in the local Rogueport goodwill because the store shelves were just flooded with them. Prince Mush bought some of his T-shirts and had a few of his toys.

And Prince Mush and Grubba got along for a good several years! Prince Mush had a very cushy Champion's life and his family got to see all of his matches and he was very comfortable! Grubba made sure to NOT treat Prince Mush the way he was treated in the past. Prince Mush had health benefits and vacation plans. Everything was good! Grubba was a good maybe-a-father-figure, maybe-just-an-older-friend type of cool old dude.

Until, one night, Prince Mush alerted Grubba to a strange machine that he found underneath the Glitz Pit Arena while he was training late one night. After Grubba asked him if he told anyone else (Prince Mush thankfully said no, so no killing spree for Grub), Prince Mush lead him to the strange machine and asked him "who could do such a thing?"

Grubba responded by hitting him in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. They didn't even have an epic battle between champion and monster; instead Grubba panicked, acted like a cornered rat, and then immediately had to cover up the resulting disappearance.

Cut to a few more years later where Prince Mush is suddenly waking up in the Glitz Pit Arena and his own sister is telling him how he straight up died and his blood was on Grubba's hands, all while a little Italian plumber is waving at him and going "wahoo".

So in short, Prince Mush doesn't remember his own death and has to get all of his information secondhand from other people who were way way more traumatized about the events.

And Mush, being Mush...can't bring himself to hate Grubba.

At least, not totally.

Jolene hates Grubba with every fiber of her being and is very much a "if I see you outside of prison, it's on sight, mfer" type of person. Rawk Hawk has really mixed feelings about Grubba and oscillates between rage-filled hatred and survivor's guilt where he second-guesses all the nice things Grubba ever did for him, knowing that he could've been drained and shoved in a dirty old attic. He even visited Grubba in jail and had a shouting match with him as both of them had to unpack a lot of mental baggage. Rawk Hawk's change of heart is fueled by the fact that Rawk Hawk has grown self-conscious and scared of becoming as lost as his mentor.

Prince Mush? When he pieces the story together - the young star exploited at a young age so afraid of aging, so afraid of giving up his own business, that he'll use a magic demon artifact to render himself immortal at the cost of his own humanity and becomes a paranoid monster that can't get close to anyone without hurting or killing them...

He just finds Grubba sad.

And when he tells Grubba to his face while he's sitting in the prison cell, Grubba wishes he got the anger instead.

Having his whole empire crumble and having to live with the consequences of his actions just renders him a pathetic, broken man. He needed wellness checks during his first week of prison just to make sure he didn't do anything drastic. (being away from the Crystal Star that made him young and strong for the first time in 40 years and realizing that he was gonna wither and turn into an old man made him just a touch suicidal for a little while)

On top of all of this, once it becomes more common knowledge that the Crystal Stars were connected to the Shadow Queen, Grubba isn't even sure how much of his actions were his own or if he was Corrupted By the Amulet. Everyone - including him - believes he was mostly in control, but it sure doesn't feel good either way having to second-guess just how much of the past few decades were of your own free will and how much of it was demonic influence and you were just Golluming your way into murder because the shiny rock needed more blood for the blood god.

TTYD is very much a game that ends on the idea of forgiveness for the villains. I'm not going to have Prince Mush stay with Grubba ala Vivian hanging out with her shitty sister Beldam, but Prince Mush seems like a cool enough dude to at least extend a hand and say "yeah you killed me, but now you're in a position where you can't harm anyone else ever again and since you're a paranoid and have like 60 mental illnesses, I'm not going to kick you while you're down and instead tell you that the Glitz Pit isn't on fire and that my sister Jolene is doing a GREAT job".

And eventually Grubba...feels more at peace with himself than he's been in over 40 years.

TL;DR, Prince Mush forges a shaky relationship with his own murderer because his murderer's mental health was impacted by both demonic magic and the exploitation of Hollywood stardom but things are actually kinda looking up? Prince Mush actually wants Grubba to get better, Jolene wants Grubba to choke and perish, and Rawk Hawk is unsure whether he sides with Mush or Jolene.

[emily-mooon]

OK! here's the general idea for this Nordegrim Ghosts AU that has been haunting me:

CW FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH, ATTEMPTED MURDER, AND ALSO A TINY BIT SUGGESTIVE (just a tiny bit though)

Stacey, Scott, and Lawrence inherit this big house from a distant great aunt they have never met after she passed of old age. Scott is in debt so he cant take the house like he was supposed to, and Lawrence wants nothing to do with it, so Stacey gets it instead.

It’s perfect though cause her and Neil, who is also her husband now here, were planning to move houses anyways and were struggling to find a good place. Also since the house is super big, they thought about opening a hotel at one point once the house is all fixed up.

What they don't know is that the house is haunted. the ghosts in question are:

Knives Chau: A teenage girl from the 1950s who was a fan of rock n' roll that got pushed down the stairs by a jealous classmate (not Tamara btw that was her gf) at a party

Julie Powers (IDK her married last name yet): An Edwardian women who got pushed out the window by her husband (who is Joseph in this AU btw)

Stephen Stills: A folk singer from the mid 60s who dies in a fire (people confused him with the other Stephen Stills all the time)

Gideon Graves: A music producer from the late 60s early 70s who was poisoned by a rival producer

Lucas Lee: A Victorian lumber guy who was crushed by a wooden beam during the construction of the houses renovation

Todd Ingram: A 90s Rockstar who died while having sex with his bands drummer (which like in the comic, was also cheating on his girlfriend and it is still Lynette and Envy)

Lisa Miller: A somewhat famous 1930s actress who died while filming a scene

Matthew Patel: An early 19th century poet who died in a duel that was orchestrated by a good friend of his

Roxie Richter(she has no last name in this au btw, putting it here cause I put everyone elses last names here): A Viking who was struck by lighting

Ken and Kyle Katayanagi : Inventors/mechanics from the late 19th century who died in a car explosion along with their dog (who is a dog version of robot 0-1 btw). They live in the carriage house as its far more peaceful than the main house

The ghosts overhear the hotel idea when Stacey and Neil are talking about it and they are not too pleased with it. So they try to haunt them so they'll leave, but ultimately fail.

Then either Gideon or Todd, come across Stacey leaning out the window and decide to push her in an another attempt to get them to leave which in turn, almost kills her. Because of this, now Stacey can see ghosts and forms a close friendship with them. Neil, like Mike and I assume Jay in bbc and cbs ghosts respectively, will have a collage of what they all look like since he cannot see them.

So yeah that's my idea so far! I’m still tweaking things but I’m happy with this rn. I’ll definitely make art for it at some point (and if people want it, an ask blog). Feel free to also suggest some ideas for this au if you have any :]

[nukacourier]

While a lot of people reasonably don't like the bully ending up falling in love with their target troupe, I honestly don't feel really bad about pairing Butch and James together for a few reasons. And this is speaking as both a writer and someone who was bullied constantly through his childhood

First of all, I don't have them end up together to be a perfect couple where it's like nothing bad happened between them, their relationship is rocky at best. In my narrative it's very obvious that Butch is 100% not good for James despite having sweet moments, James constantly has his doubts about their relationship and people outside of the relationship often point out how shitty of a boyfriend Butch is to him

Secondly, I know that for something like that to realistically work the bully character would need to do a lot of introspection and growing as a person to be viable for any positive relationship with the target of their harassment, so the whole reason they fall apart is BECAUSE Butch never fully committed to changing. He thought that he simply needed to be nice more than mean and spoil him to make up for constantly neglecting James' needs and still belittling him (whether intentional or not) and because of that they have a very messy breakup (and James doesn't miss their relationship too much)

So, lastly, it's basically like a narrative where the shitty actions of Butch leads to quite a bit of consequences where his asshole tendencies leaves him alone and vulnerable in a world he's not suited for. To an extent it's also something that leads James along in a narrative way where he starts to lose his naivety and learn that sometimes people will suck and treat him badly and it's not his fault and not something he can magically change without hurting himself for it

TL;DR - I hope when people see me mention their relationship they don't assume I'm writing it in a shippy, "omg they're so cute together!!!" way but rather in a "this is the way these characters would interact" way

(Also as usual quick clarification that I'm talking about my oc James Junior and NOT Liam Neeson James)

[curiouslyodd]

Today the UK Government started seizing refugees for their unfathomably cruel Rwanda deportation plan. People who fled to this country seeking safety will be suddenly crammed into detention centres and held for months, before being forced onto planes to an unfamiliar country where they will not be safe. An initiative that will cost the taxpayer £millions and will not achieve anything but making desperate people's lives even worse.

Today the UK Government announced further crackdowns on disability welfare, with planned removals of benefits for people with depression/anxiety in favour of 'therapy', and replacing cash benefits with 'vouchers'. Following months of increased media discreditation of disabilities and a culture that demonises people on benefits, plus government interest in legalising physician-assisted suicide, it's clear that this move is intended to push people into homelessness and suicide.

I hate it here. This country just seems to have an unerasable streak of vicious spite and disdain, and countless wealthy and well-connected monsters desparate to claw us back to the era of workhouses and debtors' prisons.

[frogs-in3-hills]

anyways it’s funny that i say i prefer stories that work with themes on a bigger scale meanwhile my favorite piece of fiction in the entire world is nana by ai yazawa, which is so deeply embedded in its characters perspectives that it almost becomes apolitical. like i don’t know if ai yazawa fully realizes that nana k is a csa victim or that ren manipulates nana o with sex or that shin & reira’s relationship is unhealthy. she might or she might not.. it doesn’t matter what she thinks because she’s just fully uninterested in passing judgement on these things, instead focusing on portraying them and the characters’ experiences extremely authentically & leaving the viewer to interpret what it is and what it means. which counterintuitively makes them more compelling to me (the themes enjoyer…) only because she’s so fucking good at doing that. truly i have seen some very well-written characters but i have never seen anything like the characters in nana……..

[giddlygoat]

my first oc was a pink cat named Pim the Pink Cat and his backstory is that he was the mascot/spokesperson of a mouthwash company but he was also extremely unhappy and suicidal so he would drink the mouthwash and one day he got super sick from mouthwash OD and ended up in the hospital and it created this big scandal so the company wanted nothing to do with him and he ended up all washed up and depressed with no job and a fucked up legacy that now haunts him. my second oc was an alicorn named Princess Gum Drop who lovingly nourished her delightful candy kingdom tho

[wisteriasymphony]

Adrien wondered when Felix would break first. Would it be getting drugged his first week, or locked in a closet during mealtimes?

Or maybe Felix wouldn't even have the mercy of the Design Expo lulling him into a false sense of security—if the railings saving him from the crowds would break again and Felix would be swarmed.

Adrien would love to watch history repeat itself, now from the outside. To watch the fear in Felix's eyes when he saw the road to fame was paved with brimstone... and then again, when Felix realized just how badly fear was punished in this house.

"Pretend to be his son all you like," Adrien snarled back. "But don't come crawling back to me once he starts treating you like it."

[dyspunktional-leviathan]

Ah, fuck it. Repost.

There are abusers in every community.

There are abusers in every community you’re in.

All ideas get used for grooming.

As well as a lot of other things. Literally everything can and does get used for grooming.

No community is special or uniquely dangerous in that regard.

Pro-fiction community is not special and uniquely dangerous in that regard.

Kink community is not special and uniquely dangerous in that regard.

Para communities are not special and uniquely dangerous in that regard.

[Plaintext: Para communities are not special and uniquely dangerous in that regard]

[crumbleclub]

unreliable narrator.

a short one-shot from William Afton's perspective–sort of a character study– canon to blips. notable warnings for physical and emotional abuse and neglect, s//h, and sui// behavior.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

When his favourite child– Elizabeth, of course– had died, he had not enjoyed the feeling. William was far from an emotional man, so he was surprised by how absurdly difficult balancing his work and his science became over the following weeks. Sure, he wasn't blubbering on about it for ages like Henry had been after his daughter's death– which was cute, at first, but became rather grating after the first month or so– but he did feel as if something was missing. It disconcerted him.

No matter. It was an oversight; one of the few mistakes William had made in his life. It was not going to happen again.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

Of all his children, William understood Evan the least. The boy was... strange. Sensitive. He had been alright as a baby– quiet, but adventurous– but, as he got older, the child's temperament had changed. He cried and cried over every little thing, and– while it was annoying, yes– William found it to, more notably, be confusing. He hadn't thought much of it at first– his first boy had gone through a similar phase– but the fact that he hadn't outgrown it by the time he was entering his school years was baffling.

Even so, William had treated him rather well. There was food available to him in the fridge, he was given clothes that fit, toys to play with, and high-quality medical care. Evan had been born with a cleft lip and palate– which William had paid a handsome sum to repair– and he'd required tube feeding as a baby. His mother had been wrought with the aftereffects of a turbulent pregnancy at the time, so the boy's care had fallen to William.

Caring for any infant was both tedious and fairly unsanitary, and this one had come with extra responsibilities. Still, William had done a good job. If he had grown up in William's childhood home, he...

Well, no matter.

As Evan got older and grew more daring in his exploration, the boy's father had gone out of his way to keep him safe. Nothing like what had happened to Elizabeth would ever happen again, because William would find a way to always be watching him.

The bear had been perfect. A radio, a camera. William would always know what the boy was doing, so there was no risk of him running his mouth, and there would be no repeat of Elizabeth's fate. Evan would be safe.

William had sacrificed quite a lot for children he didn't love. Elizabeth was likeable, at least, but the others...

Meh.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

The scene had been bloody. William could smell it as one of the panicked party hosts led him out to the dining area. His composure was intact, but the speed with which his legs carried him to the site was uncharacteristic.

The boy was pulled down. He lay limp in his father's arms; lifeless, but breathing.

Michael had done it, apparently. William was only a little surprised. It wasn't as if William hadn't encouraged the behavior. He wanted to see how far it would go, whether the boy had any potential, but Michael had always been just a bit too concerned with the wellbeing of living creatures for William's taste. His incessant fussing over the wounded mutt in their driveway had spoiled William's opportunity for a perfect kill. The behavior was swiftly corrected, of course, but William couldn't do those things at home anymore. Michael had ruined it.

Light bullying aside, doing any serious harm to William's things was off-limits. Michael should have known that.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

Six days. Evan had fought for six days, and William had been by his side in the hospital the entire time. He'd even taken off work.

William had been there when he died. It was a peaceful occasion, unlike any of the deaths William had seen before.

He was holding his son's hand when the breathing stopped, eyes fixed on the tight gauze fastened over a broken skull and swollen cheeks.

It would be fine. William could fix this.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

Michael couldn't be left alone anymore.

It wasn't something William had expected. Evan's death had carried the glimmering hope that Michael may have taken after his father– a delightful treat, because nobody was ever like William– but the man felt his hopes being quashed with each moment he spent with his remaining child. In response to the event, Michael had become... irrational.

William hoped it was temporary, because his patience was wearing thin. The last time he'd been left unattended, William had come home to a fairly lackluster attempt at hiding the arm Michael had made striped and bloody, the sound of something metal clattering into the sink.

It was a curious behavior that William didn't really understand, but– after a few cycles of observation, and one occasion of the boy losing control and going a bit too far– it was one that he had decided was bad.

Michael had been disobedient with the new rule. He'd also gotten more creative; more impulsive. William had to start child-locking car doors. It would cast a very unflattering light on William were all of his offspring to die in such a short span of time– and he was conscious of that– but there was something else.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

The boy quaked where he lay curled up on the couch, lip quivering and eyes on the telly. William watched from the other end of the sofa, exhaustion starting to seep into the look of dull interest that marked his features. This had been going on for too long.

Twice. Twice, today, Michael had broken the rule. William was tired from a long day of work, but he wasn't confident that, were he to go to bed before the boy fell asleep, Michael would remain relatively intact by morning. So, William sat with him.

Hours later, though, he was still awake.

William spied the clock on the wall. Four in the morning. This was getting ridiculous.

Sighing, William leaned over and tugged the boy towards him, pulling him by the back of his collar as if it were scruff on a cat.

Startled, the boy flinched, almost trying to wriggle away before deciding better of it and falling eerily still. He stared up at his father in frightened askance, voice faltering as he hesitated in questioning the action.

"Father, what...?"

William situated the child in his arms, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the inconvenience. Michael was nearly fourteen; he shouldn't need such coddling.

He positioned the boy's ear over his heart, allowing him to hear the steadiness of his father's breathing and heartbeat. This maneuver had always helped Michael fall asleep when he was a baby, and it was going to help now.

"Pipe down." William shifted, as miffed by his own actions as he was annoyed with the request for an explanation. William was as unused to this sort of thing as his son was, and he was making himself uncomfortable. "You need to go to sleep. I don't want to have to miss work because of you."

Still shaking, the boy quieted. William leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a silent request for sleep to consume them both.

In the quiet of early morning, the simplest of sentiments was the only one that rang true.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

[dennisboobs]

I always thought of Charlie being the one to have PTSD. Him and Dennis trauma buddies forever.

OH FOR SURE. the entire gang has trauma out the wazoo. the biggest reason i love charden as much as i do is their shared trauma. something so fucking healing about someone being able to intrinsically understand what you've gone through. especially for dennis who doesn't want to talk about it (and downplays it so aggressively as something desirable, an accomplishment to be proud of) and charlie who has selective amnesia about his own trauma but never misses his chance to bring up everything dennis is eager to ignore. both of them project onto each other and it seems to legitimately help them process and heal in some roundabout way because they have empathy for each other despite not being able to scrounge any up for themselves.

[merlions]

Trying to do my final assignment for nutrition, which is having us reflect on and explain what we would change about our diets based on a self-assessment we previously did on a week where I was having a flare and eating like shit, and getting continuously caught up trying not to just write "I KNOW HOW TO FEED MYSELF WELL, MY DIET DOES NOT REFLECT HOW MUCH I KNOW, I KNOW THAT I SHOULD COOK INTRICATELY PREPARED PARMESAN AND WALNUT CRUSTED TILAPIA WITH LIME MANGO SLAW AND STEAMED FUCKING PEAS EVERY GOD DAMNED DAY, BUT I DONT ALWAYS HAVE THE FUCKING ENERGY OR APPETITE OR TIME! I AM UTTERLY CONSTRAINED, IMPRISONED EVEN, BY WHAT MY BODY WILL ALLOW ME TO INGEST, AND BABY, IT AINT MUCH!" and then just copy and paste it over and over again until I hit the word limit

[lucidicer]

.

[goatbeard-goatbeard]

yes it’s very sweet that Aziraphale says “trust me” when Crowley is the one with the gun. yes Crowley (who helped invent physics) probably can aim pretty well when he focuses

but consider the comedy potential if Aziraphale was actually the one who handled dodging the bullet:

instantly turns “you can’t kill me, there’ll be paperwork” into a THREAT

makes all the “shoot past my ear” miscommunication metaphors even funnier because he’s snaking away on purpose to make sure it misses his ear

he still let it almost hit Mrs. H

[mushroom-for-art]

This is what I think of while I'm at work, multiverse brain stuff featuring the wonderful perfect holdable smoochable loveable surrender all my possessions to Fidget (And Ivy is mentioned and also all those things), belonging to @blues-sues, hope you enjoy my bullshit

Loopholes!!! I will finds them!!

"Welcome to the dreaded brain world, full of mystery, horror, romance and mostly just horrid angst and being rotated for 5 hours at a time, ha!" Matt threw his hands about posing in emphasis to his words before throwing his hands up and lightly slapping the other Mewtwo, an individual of dark purples, on the back which caused them to jolt slightly forward in surprise with casual disregard for personal space.

Fidget spun round in a panic, eyeing up the other Mewtwo, "you shouldn't touch me!" His voice filled with an awareness of his danger to others as his eyes frantically scanned over the red individual waiting for their state to rapidly deteriorate with purple and rot. Matt held his hands up in surrender casually floating back but still hanging close as his feet found the floor again.

"Sorry! Not the touchy type then? Shoulda known that was on me," with a hand he rubbed the back of his neck, "sorry again." Fidget watched his brows coming together in confusion.

"I…." he hesitated unsure what words he needed, "I'm, poisonous, how, are you fine?" Despite knowing better he leant his upper body closer to the red individual, "are you, immune?" He tried to not let the hope creep into his voice. Matt blinked at him with wide slightly vacantly stupid eyes.

"Huh, you are?" Matt looked at him and made a noise, "that, does explain the purple, but uh if you're poisonous then," he glanced at the hand which slapped Fidgets back before snorting, dumbfound, "OH! Yea!" He snorted again in laughter looking back at Fidget, grabbing his elbow he pulled off his arm and after a few seconds the psychic illusion dropped revealing a prosthetic, "not my real hand!" He grinned wrinkling his snout, "neithers the other it's just psychic energy." He chuckled again as Fidget stared at him bewildered.

"Aren't you, worried about handling that? It might have my poison on it still?" Fidget watched the prosthetic flop as Matt twisted it about making a sound.

"Oh yea..guess it could. I'll just stick it in the washing machine or something." He grinned again as Fidget blinked, 'washing machine???' he puzzled.

"That isn't going in the washing machine you numpty or the dishwasher it's not machine safe!" a different voice yelled from elsewhere aimed at Matt as Fidget glanced brows furrowed in deep confusion as Matt made a noise sticking his tongue out in the general direction of the voice though Fidget couldn't see anybody yet.

"Bugger, guess I gotta wash this by hand then, with a wet wipe or somethin'," with a casual shrug he went to reattach his arm only for a new individual of deep gray blues to grab the prosthetic at the connection port and steal it flying off with it casually.

"No you're not, I'll be needing that thank you," her voice was casual, cool and mocking as she shot off with the prosthetic as Matt stood looking baffled before promptly yelling, "HEY!" After the Mewtwo who has already disappeared. Fidget swallowed uncomfortably hoping to not know what they wanted with his poison.

Matt threw his remaining psychic hand in the air as what was left of his other arm raised in emphasis to join before both his shoulders dropped down with his psychic hand bumping his side, "unbelievable, can you believe that," Matt moved to point with his stub pausing and motioning with his psychic arm pointing after the other Mewtwo, "honest, leaving me armless like that." Fidget could only provide an awkward smile looking at Matt in pure confusion while occasionally glancing at the psychic false arm seeing it shimmer and sway with energy.

Fidget jumped a flinch ducking his head down and taking a step back at the giant Mewtwo that seemed to appear besides him, a towering 9 foot maybe more he wasn't sure, sporting darker colors than standard and a fluffed tail.

"What's all the commotion over here, some of us are busy, Matthew." The tall individual didn't regard Fidget watching Matt who cringed with his tongue out at the using of that name.

"Darkness stole my prosthetic which I kinda need to like do things and interact with my new buddy here," moving with casual abandon he wrapped his psychic arm around Fidgets shoulders without pulling him too close, his psychic energy was warm on Fidgets shoulders and felt wobbly ripples of overconfident aura warmed Fidget through the contact, "he's poisonous so kinda need like arm that's not gonna absorb poisons," Matt shrugged at the taller two followed by looking back at Fidget, "no offense." Matt offered a smile in apology as Fidget awkwardly shrugged since he wasn't wrong.

With an awkward vocalization of distress and confusion purple psychic energy lifted and moved Matt to the side, "and any less consideration with your mobility would've resulted in your friends shoulder into your chest plate and a hefty poisoning no doubt, your lack of spatial awareness is, something alright." The tall one casually swayed his hand to the side as he removed the weird warmth of Matts psychic from Fidgets shoulders as Fidget once more swallowed having not realized how close he was to potentially hurting his friend.

"And why don't you simply create a psychic barrier over yourself if you're so worried about poisoning?" The tall one finally regarded Fidget looking at him with a steely level gaze, "observe," the tall Mewtwo raised a hand and Fidget leant back.

"I - I wouldn't really! My poison is really really bad it'd be quite serious if-!" The hand touched his forehead and he froze, much like Matts psychic arm there was an odd sensation the touch was both cool and warm, he could sense a barrier of sorts preventing direct skin on skin, but unlike gloves and other protective measures it didn't feel rough or squeak as a thumb idly moved rubbing casually above his brow below his horns. The psychic energy was more stable and didn't wobble the same way Matts did and it almost assured Fidget with the level of confidence and strength behind it, the aura was cool but not freezing as the psychic energy faintly warmed like a cool gel that warmed with body temperature.

Blinking and slowly lifting his gaze upwards the tall one was glancing over at Matt still slightly levitating for psychic energy as though scruffed, "You see? A simple barrier is all you need."

"Ohhh…like a psychic condom for your fingers."

The hand moved from Fidgets forehead to accusingly point at Matt, "you unspeak that from existence right now you horrid wretched waste of breath and space." Fidget frowned at the loss of touch and the harsh tone of the taller two but noticed Matt simply beamed at him with his tail wagging behind him, clearly proud of himself for causing such a reaction.

The hand unconsciously returned to Fidgets forehead palm resting on the top of his head as he blinked and quietly allowed and enjoyed the sensation of touch.

"That's all well and good but not all of us are as gifted as you are Axel, some of us are a bit shit.," Matt shrugged within his scruff as the tall one Axel exhaled a deep sigh rubbing his temple with his spare hand.

"Yes I'm aware of how much my genes have deteriorated and what has unfortunately arisen from that." Fidget quietly wondered if he should even still be there but the gently touch on his head was still there and still nice but he had the self control and awareness not to shove into the touch less Axel pay attention to him again.

From the sky the prosthetic fell and hit Matt on the head causing him to wince with an oof before clumsily catching it with his psychic hand and gasping realizing the hand had hit his head.

"Stop panicking doofus I cleaned the poison and any residual poison off its sterile won't kill ya unless I beat you to death with it," the dark mewtwo from before glided past casually, "Hi Fidget, bye Fidget." he blinked awkwardly wondering how she knew his name as she passed. "having fun there grandpappy?" Her mouth turned into a taunting grin before she was once more gone flying off. Axel watched after her confused before realizing his hand was still situated on Fidgets head. He slowly lifted his touch with a faint huff like exhale turning his head away.

"As I demonstrated, no poisoning, but I suppose you'll just have to make do with your false parts." Axel turned, his feet leaving the ground as he floated away as Matt was dropped after reattaching his arm.

"Yea thanks for that! I'll remember your weird advice when I get powers, come back whenever you're ready to admit you actually want interaction with your own kind rather than denying it and thinking yourself better!" Matt hollered after the large mewtwo who either didn't hear or chose to ignore him.

Wandering back over to Fidgets side his prosthetic hand pat his shoulder, "sorry about all that, crazy family crazy situations and stuff, happens all the time here." Fidget nodded memorizing how the prosthetic fingers articulated and felt against his skin, cooler now that he took note of it and not as defined as usual mewtwo hands missing the ball like finger ends, but the way they wrapped around his shoulder and offered a light squeeze was unusually pleasant and welcome.

"Yes it's quite strange here… but.. I guess I might enjoy it. Especially if I find my sister." Fidget nodded to himself, while enjoying the attention he missed Ivy and hoped she was okay.

"Well, let's go look yea? She'll be here somewhere, probably being rotated." Matt grinned walking ahead before stopping and offering out his hand, with a moment of cautious hesitation Fidget sighed and took the hand to go with.

"She isn't actually being rotated is she?" He asked as he floated along keeping steady pace with Matts walking, not at all reassured by his shrug.

"Dunno! Maybe? We'll see!" Fidget raised a confused brow but floated along, not minding how the fingers squeezed his hand feeling them growing warm with contact.

[an7el]

her apology, the purpose behind such admission of regret, the altruistic intent behind each & every word that leaves the princess' lips is foreign territory; a softness angel dust finds himself frighteningly unfamiliar with. valentino's clemency manifests after a storm, presents itself through saccharine apologies after sour accusations, through tender kisses after a strike against his cheek. charlie's does not require a punishment prior, does not demand angel to suffer nor struggle beforehand.

forgive me, please. (@cupisco)

" charlie, " both pairs of arms are curled around own frame, coiled comfortably around his physique (a blanket, a shield, a layer of security betwixt himself and the rest of hell). a tick of quietude passes by, before topmost hands reach languidly for charlie's, " y'don't gotta apologise. " a corner of angel's mouth quirks upwards ever-so-slightly, a crooked simper feeble and passive. " val's .. he's a fuckin' handful. you don't gotta worry 'bout him, alright ? he's just— just my employer. hazbin is nun' of his business. " digits tighten around hers, briefly, before hands retract to rest upon his hips. " here — m'all yours. but i gotta work. nothin' to be done 'bout that, dollface. " .