#I am a mad scientist - fear me

[inquisimer]

welp. fix it fic in my notes draft on my phone 😭😭😭

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) Summary: Steddie Canon compliant/fix-it fic paired with a corresponding story in Steve’s POV, each chapter happens in tandem with the other. Eddie wakes up alone in the Upside Down, not knowing how he survived, and unable to reach anyone topside in Hawkins. Wounded and alone, he finds shelter at the Harrington’s house (the place is a damn fortress after all), and while hiding out there discovers that he has gained the ability to walk into other people’s dreams.

((Content warnings in tags))

(un-beta’d snippet of Chapter 2; Eddie made it to the Harrington’s house in one piece last chapter, and hasn’t tried to step outside of it ever since. It’s safe, he has room and food and endless supplies (make-shift or otherwise), and he’s still pretty injured and needs to rest. But idle hands and all that, plus adjusting to living in the Upside Down isn’t exactly a walk in the park.)

--

It takes over a week before Eddie leaves Steve’s house.

To be fair, he sleeps a lot of it. (Still healing, and all that; blood loss is no fucking joke.) He doesn’t dream of Steve, or with Steve, in that time. In fact, he’s not dreaming much at all, thank Jesus, because when he does… it always ends with the bats. 

Gnawing, swarming, rows and rows of teeth digging into his sides, going for vital organs. A tail around his neck, more pulling at each limb, like he’s being drawn and quartered. Screaming as teeth sunk into him over and over again. Being disemboweled alive – sounds metal as fuck. Actually sucks balls. 

He wakes up far too many times to a double tap of paralyzing fear. First shot – being eaten alive in his dreams, not knowing if it’s real or if it’ll stop. Second shot – not knowing if he’d screamed when he woke up, and what might have heard him if he did. It’s enough to make anyone curl up in the fetal position and shake.

But then Eddie focuses on trying to contact Steve. After a few days of rest, his head no longer swimming, and his wounds in the gross, early stages of healing and scarring, Eddie realizes he needs out. No one was going to come looking for him here, at Harrington Manor (now Casa de Munson), so if he wants the rescue party to locate him he’d have to send up some flares. Discreetly. 

He tries the lights. He tries the doors. He tries the TV (à la Poltergeist), and the stereo system in Steve’s room. The walkie-talkie radio that is obviously Henderson’s handiwork. He even tries Harrington’s fucking hair dryer. God knows he’d noticed that thing on the fritz. He lets his hand pass through the drifting bits of tickling light whenever Steve actually deigns to be home and turn something on, but half the lights are too high for him to reach (damn rich people’s homes and their fucking vaulted ceilings) and the rest don’t seem to have any kind of impact on the guy.  

Eddie calls Steve many unflattering names this particular morning, specifically after the hair dryer incident. He messed with it until the damn thing blew a fuse, and it yielded results he never in a million years would have predicted. It seems Steve did in fact notice this, and then? Then Eddie could hear Steve, loud and clear. Just like they had with Henderson when they were stuck over spring break, as if he was trapped in the walls. Steve yells right back at him, or to God or whoever, some choice words very similar to Eddie's own a moment ago. And it was so dramatic and so… good to hear a voice again in the pulsating nothingness of the Upside Down that Eddie laughs until he cries. 

Sometimes in the mornings (when he can’t bother to pull himself out of bed) he could hear Steve and Buckley talking in the kitchen, but he hasn’t heard Steve’s parents and most of the time Steve doesn’t talk at all when he’s home. It gets to the point where Eddie starts to worry he might have to make the trip to Henderson or Sinclair's house. If any of those little brats has the intelligence to count on in a dire situation like this, it’s Sinclair’s 11-year-old sister. (Heaven help him.)

The biggest problem with that plan is… there are things out there. The bats swarm daily; when they pass over the house it sounds like a tornado is about to take off the roof. There’s creatures that stalk about between the trees, taller than a normal man, and scavenging creatures of all sizes. Dog-sized, rat-sized, more he can’t even make out. The vines creep and move, try to wiggle under the doors of the house sometimes but can’t make it past the weather seals. And there’s something huge, vaguely Jabba The Hut shaped, that slithers about and Eddie is fucking terrified it might move faster than it looks.

There’s more, too, he knows this. He hears the cries and shrieks in the night of the creatures hunting each other. If that’s not a terrifying enough scenario for you, imagine how Eddie felt the moment he realized they eat each other and are still a hive mind. They are starving. No wonder they are so hostile and ravenous for human flesh. It’s food that doesn’t hurt to eat. 

It’s about this time that Eddie starts to take notes. A day or two before he makes his first venture outside the house. His mind is a maddening buzz of information and fears and observations and questions. He can’t think, he can’t put anything in order, it makes him want to knock himself out just for a moment of peace. But the risk of nightmares starts to deter that. So he finally does the one thing he swore he would never do; he takes the long suffering advice of his old middle school guidance counselor. The one he was too full of anger to hear properly, at the time.

He writes it all down.

It starts as stream of consciousness, dumping all the chatter and words in his head onto paper just to put it somewhere. To save his dwindling sanity. And soon his brain, trained and honed like a broadsword blade by his DM campaigns, begins to group information on instinct. Ideas. Categories. Plans.

Ten hours and a hell of a cramp in his hand later, he actually has a plan. He might have… started to lose it a little by then, too, because the layout sounds a bit like the intro monologue to one of his campaigns:

Eddie the Banished has been left behind; not out of hate or convenience, but out of circumstance. He doesn’t blame his party for doing so. They are at war with a fearful, deadly foe. They thought he’d been vanquished. Defeated. 

Alas, he endured.

He survived.

Eddie the Banished was now in hiding, behind enemy lines.

He found himself in quite an advantageous position — and if this were a D&D campaign, he knew just what he would do. He’d do reconnaissance. He’d make maps and creature dossiers, stash weapons and provisions, he'd be the best ‘presumed dead’ spy a campaign had ever asked for. He could do so much good, getting everything ready.

So what was stopping him doing the same, here?

Easy:

Fear.

The very real reality that he could be eaten by a monster.

The fact he’s a storyteller, not a fighter.

The pros and cons list literally began to write itself, filling pages in Steve’s (very worryingly unused) high school notebooks that Eddie had commandeered. But the pros are a lot longer than the cons.

In summary: 

Pros = prepare everyone for what comes next. (If his brief glimpse of downtown was anything to go by. They still had a boss battle to fight.)

Cons = he’s a coward at heart, who knows how to keep himself alive first and foremost.

… It takes him rereading his own notes until the wee hours of the morning to realize… that may be a skill, and not a flaw. The ability to keep himself alive. At least here, it was. In the Upside Down. And wasn’t that the coolest adaptive mindset ever, enough that it propelled him into preparatory action. All the way to the following morning, where he stood just inside the interior door of the Harrington’s garage, working up the nerve to step outside.

—

tbc

—

Series Snippets:

- Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

- Subconscious (Steve’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[zeveth]

how does your muse carry emotions? bold; always applies.   italic; sometimes applies.   strike; never applies.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 .   jaw clenching. hands balling into fists.   teeth grinding.   yelling.   going nonverbal.   stuttering speech.   rushed speech.  slow, concise speech.  rambling.   quiet.  arms crossing.  shaking head.   tearing up.   animated.   expressionless.   projects.  internalises.   vents.   withdraws.   passive aggressive.  direct.  physical outbursts.   verbal outbursts.

𝐉𝐎𝐘 .   easy smiles.   fighting back grins.   suppressed laughter.  loud laughter.   giggles.   chuckling.   smirks.   whole body laughs.   covers mouth when laughing / giggling.   throws head back when laughing.   slaps leg.   touches people around them when laughing.   looks down when laughing.   looks for eye contact when laughing.  sparkling eyes.   bubbly happiness.  quiet, subtle happiness.   obnoxious happiness.   wants to spread joy.   quietly savours joy.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 .   crying.   bottling it up.   seeks distractions.   wallows.   meditates and processes.   avoidance.  seeks out comfort.   withdraws.  talks it out.   internalises it.   sad smiles.   depression naps.   uses alcohol.  uses drugs.   seeks out sources of joy.   fidgets with sentimental item.  sits in silence.   broods.  gets moody.   wants someone to share the misery.    tries to hide negative emotions.   nurtures others to make themselves feel better.

𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 / 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄 .   blushing.   looking away.  rubbing at back of head. covering face.   laughing nervously.   laughs it off.   overthinks.  lets it go.   self-deprecating humour.  deflects.   gets irritated.   smiles.   withdraws.  crossing arms over stomach.   crossing arms over chest. ��hands in pockets.   shoulders sinking.   shrugs. falling into silence until comfortable again.  talking a lot to compensate.

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 .   avoiding eye contact.   shoulders sinking low.   head hanging down.   crying.   chest aches.   lashes out.  internalises.   apologises.   deflects.   communicates.   withdraws.  grand gestures for forgiveness.   accepts fault easily.   punishes themselves.   martyrdom.   victim complex.   over-active guilt complex.   healthy conscience.   internalises even after forgiveness.   seeking redemption.   moves on easily.  denial.   lack of guilt / conscience.  sorry they got caught more than caused harm.   can’t handle knowing they hurt others.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 / 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 .   trembling.   crying.   uses sarcasm / sass to cope.   rambles.   goes silent.  gets angry.  fidgeting. clenching jaw.   picking at nails.   chewing at lip.   pulling at clothes.   adjusting jewellery / clothing.   swallowing thickly.   eyes widening.   over-reacts.   under-reacts.   calm.   logical. panic.   irrational.  overthinks.   carefully analyses.  talks to themselves.   breathing exercises.   flight.   fight.  withdraws.   fawns.

[exhaslo]

Hii idk if you’re taking requests or not but I’m sorry if you aren’t!! I just wanted to see if u could maybe do a small smut story that still takes place in puzzle pieces and it’s basically where Miguel got really pissed & in sm stress because of some idiot and he accidentally hurts his shy wifey :,(( so he decides to make it up to her by literally giving her one of the best nights of her life and just gives her his baby yk 🤗

*TAGS ENTIRE PUZZLE PIECES TAGLIST*

Now, I won't ever say no to some extra Puzzle Pieces content, hehe.

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, mentions of abuse, language, soft sex, oral (f receiving) , rough sex, creampie, overstimulation, praise, fluff

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It had been a very rough day for Miguel. From Alchemax to his mafia, there had been nothing but a slew of bad news. It had been two months since the Venom incident, yet for some reason the accursed drug still tormented the streets.

Come to find out that one of Eddie's followers took on his role, giving a new gang to rise called Carnage. Miguel was furious at the situation given to him. Especially since Carnage had gone out of his way to kill one of his trusted men.

"¡Mierda! ¡Cuántas tonterías tengo que soportar! (Fuck! The amount of bullshit I have to deal with!)" Miguel roared at the top of his lungs.

Then, Alchemax had to put some icing on the cake, and get a lab blown up. Several idiot scientists were in the hospital all because they decided to take a risk Miguel told them not too. The worst part was that Miguel couldn't fire them yet. He had to wait until all of the legal bullshit flew over.

"Miguel?" You whispered.

Miguel was consumed with rage that he didn't even hear his poor little fiancé. You were standing in the corner, watching Miguel's fit. This was the not the first time you've seen him mad, but at the same time, he had never gotten this mad before.

"Fuck! Those fucking-"

Miguel yelled once more as he grabbed the closest thing to him and tossed it. He needed to let out his anger somehow.

"Ah!" You cried.

Upon hearing your terrified yelp, Miguel snapped out of his state of anger. He quickly rushed to your side, seeing you bend down and shaking. His eyes widen towards your fear. Immediately scooping you up, Miguel whispered apologizes.

"Mi conejita, (My bunny), I'm so so sorry," He whispered, kissing your head as he brought you to the couch, "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell and-"

Miguel's eyes soften as he saw a small cut on your shoulder. He glanced back towards the glass he threw. Cussing quietly, Miguel kissed your cut repeatedly.

"Mi amor (my love), I won't ask for you to forgive me-"

"I-It's...o-okay," You whimpered softly. Miguel frowned as he kissed your tears away,

"It's not. I hurt you in my fit of rage."

"B-But y-you weren't...m-mad at m-me," You tried to reassure him. Miguel gently bit your hand before kissing it,

"I promise I'll take my rage elsewhere." He whispered, kissing you once more then your cut, "I never, ever, want you to be afraid of me. You don't ever need to be afraid again."

"Miggy,"

You were still trembling, but knew Miguel meant well. He had never hurt you before and will never. This was just an accident that he was taking to heart. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as you felt him kiss your cut more.

"M-Miguel..." You whispered, getting cozy.

Miguel picked you up and took you to your shared bedroom. His kisses were nonstop as he laid you against the bed. His large grip, holding you gently as you spread you legs for him. Miguel inhaled deeply to your gesture.

"Such a good girl for me," He groaned, kissing your neck, "Let me make up for my foolish behavior. Give my precious wife the best night of her life."

"M-Miguel!" You squeaked, feeling his hands take off your sweatpants, "I-I-I..." You covered your face, feeling flustered.

"Am the best? Am too good for me?" Miguel filled in your words as he placed his head under your shirt, kissing up your stomach.

"Ah~ M-Mig~"

You trembled as Miguel took off your shirt. His kisses leading up to your breasts, back to the small cut on your shoulder. Miguel's hands were all over you, stroking each part of your body until you stopped shaking.

The warmth of his hands, begging your body for forgiveness. Miguel inhaled to the soft sound of your moans as he grinded his bulge against your panties. Your body arching against his hips, whimpering and whining for more friction.

"I'm sorry, Mi conejita (my bunny). I won't ever harm you," Miguel whispered as he groped your breasts.

"Mhpm~ I-I know....y-you didn't mean it," You cried, feeling your core burning up, desperate for release, "I-I-I'll a-always, ah~ ah~ M-Miguel~"

You arched your back, crying out your first of many orgasms. Taking a moment to catch your breathe, you squirmed and whimpered as Miguel took your damp panties off. He kissed your nipples, humming lowly as he bend down.

You tried to stop Miguel, wanting to hold him, but gasped loudly as you already felt his tongue against your clit. You gripped against the bedsheets, moaning his name as Miguel feasted. This was always his way of spoiling you after a rough day.

Though you had to question if it was more enjoyable for you or him.

Your body was shaking as Miguel held your hips in place. His tongue ravishing your pour clit and pussy. Your vision had begun to blur once more as you felt your high returning. With a curl of your toes and another grip against the bedsheets, you cam once more.

"Good girl," Miguel blew against your cunt, watching you twitch, "My precious good girl."

You shuddered and whined as Miguel returned to licking your clit. His tongue lapping up the mess you made. You were already overstimulated, unable to handle the amount of pleasure you were receiving now.

"M-Mig! M-Miggy!" You whined, riding his face, "P-Please..."

"Anything,"

Miguel hummed as he gave your pussy a break to give you a deep kiss. Your adorable fucked out expression just eager for more. With swift movement, Miguel slowly pressed his dick inside your tight gummy walls.

"Ah~"

"See how hard you make me?" Miguel hummed, kissing your small wound once more, "I am yours and you are mine."

"Mhm~ Y-Yes~" You gasped, holding onto Miguel as he rested his hips against yours.

"My beautiful wife," Miguel grunted as he pulled out slowly before hitting you deep, "Taking me in so well."

You gasped and moaned as Miguel took his time. Your pussy fluttering and gushing around his cock with each slow and rough thrust. Miguel kept kissing your body, whispering nothing but praises as he took you nice and slow.

"Such a good girl. Does my little bunny enjoy this? Shall I keep going slow?" Miguel asked with a tease, enjoying your blissed out expression.

"Y-Yes~ Ah~ Hah~ F-Fill me, p-please." You begged, babbling your moans like a cock drunk mess.

"Fill you? Do you want to make me a daddy?" Miguel said with a light chuckle as he got hard at the thought, "Wanna be a mommy, mi amor?"

"Ah~ Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried another orgasm, feeling your mind doze off.

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine. His grin widen as he held your hips and placed your on your knees. Miguel kissed your back as he started to pound your pussy from behind. The loud slapping noises of your juices against his dick and your moans were consuming the room.

"My wife wants a baby. I shall give it to you," Miguel chuckled, nibbling against your ear as he ravished your hole.

"Ah~ Ah~"

Your face was pressed into the pillow as you moaned to each thrust. His hot seed filling your womb, causing you to gush and cum against his dick. Drool rolled down your mouth as Miguel kept his ruthless pace, praising you constantly.

"Awe, look your womb is swallowing my cum. Now this is a way to end such a shitty day," Miguel groaned as he placed you on your back, "Giving my wife a baby."

You arched your back, your mouth forming an 'o' as you felt Miguel's dick rub against your sweet spot. Words unable to form as you just whimpered and moaned to his thrusts. Miguel pulled you into his embrace as he held you in mating position, fucking you senselessly,

"I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much,"

You would repeat, but you were so cock drunk that you weren't paying attention. With another orgasm, you fell unconscious.

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You awoke the next day, sore and exhausted. Miguel had washed you up and put on your most comfortable pajamas-his clothes. You smiled weakly towards the water and pain killers on the side table. There was also a note and you felt a bandage on your shoulder.

"Hehe, Miggy," You cooed, finding your soon to be husband so overprotective.

As you laid on your back, you started to recall last night's passionate sex. Your face turned bright red as you started to remember begging Miguel to fill you and him assuming you wanting a baby. You covered your face into the pillow, squealing lowly.

"M-Maybe....we....we could....k-keep trying...f-for one."

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@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[thesensteawitch]

IF YOU WERE A MUSE TO A POET 🍁💌

~This Is What They Would Tell You!

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left To Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls!💖

I hope you're doing well. Here's a collective reading about what a poet would tell you if you were their muse! ✨

TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND PICK YOUR PILE INTUITIVELY.

In case you would like to BOOK A READING with me then I am sharing the links below for the same.

BOOKING FORM 💌

RATE CARD $$$

You can also DM me in case of any query.🫶🏻

***

Pile 1

You have so many sides to you, and yet you hold space for more. I am directionless. Where should I lead this poem about you? Or where are you leading me? There’s so much to you that I want to express, but I fear I’ll end up looking like a fool. You’re like the universe—mesmerizing, intriguing, and frightening, with layers and layers of mysteries. You are divine to me. Being a poet feels like a boon when I look at you. Only fated souls get to write about someone so infinitely charming. I sense the never-ending wisdom you hold. I’d forever be your devotee if you’d let me drink just one drop of what keeps you glowing like you do. You’re sharp, kind, wild, and a dream that only slips away. Where are you looking? What inspiration do you need? Come on! You walk to your own rhythm, your shadows delightfully dancing to your beat. The sound of your steps tells me stories of places you’ve been and people you’ve met. You hold no regret, no grudge—only lessons. You think, reflect, and cry for being mistreated. But when it’s your turn, you choose to destroy the weapons that bruised you so deeply, instead of hurting others with them. The venom couldn’t kill you but made you wise. Following your footprints, I find the earth swallowing the shed skin of your old self. How can I define you when you’re constantly transforming? Every time I think I have finally known you, I find something new revealed. My hands fall short of holding your grace, my mind loses the words to portray it. As I said, you’re sharp—you’ll never let me read you. You take me to the end only to throw me into a new beginning. It’s not your fault; I understand that’s who you truly are. Sometimes, while falling asleep, I wonder who would be so lucky to fall in love with you? Or who would you fall in love with? But then again, I don’t feel you’re deprived of love, because YOU ARE love. I look at you the way others look at stars. Everyone attempts to count them at least once in their lifetime but eventually gives up, knowing it’s an attempt they will fail. But I am not tired; I am taking a break. I would like to admire you for now, knowing that maybe I too will never fully know you, but I’ll keep exploring who you are, just like scientists cannot give up on SPACE! Ah! See, I cracked something! Your lover must be someone like you—infinitely charming and holding mysteries as vast.

***

Pile 2

You know what? I am mad at you! Because either you attack or you run away. See? You just revolted back. Or perhaps hid in your closet, knowing that someone knows your little secret. You’re that 22° in astrology. Kill or be killed? You’re neither a prey nor do you need to triumph over someone or something else to keep yourself safe. All I am trying to say is that you’re not meant to just survive; you’re meant to thrive. But hey, I do see your heart. The life around it has withered, and you’re surviving on memories. For how long, may I ask? You’re not a coward; you’re afraid. I heard someone say, “The one who is capable of love is capable of being saved.” At this point, all the love is leaking from the corners of your heart. Make the best use of it, or it’ll go to waste. Life isn’t at the extremes; it’s in the middle. That’s where you find your balance. That’s where you will shine bright. I see you singing to yourself, making stories in your heart but never writing them down for the world to taste. You don’t need to say ‘NO’ to something you want. Openly say what you want and to the person who can give it to you. Don’t keep whispering your wishes into the ears of God. He’s even giving you a side-eye now, haha. You’re the leader! If you don’t take the lead, you’ll never have your pack. Do you get it? Why am I even writing about you? It seems to me that you’re an artist too. You know the depths of your pain better than I do. Gosh, you need a hug! Whoever you’ve lost in this physical world doesn’t like to see those tears rolling down your cheeks. Every time you try to make sense of your emotions, you only make your heart heavier. Love keeps dripping and draining into the river of unexpressed emotions. You’re about to be granted a new life, a restart. But this won’t be handed to you until you decide and do what you’re supposed to do. The pain demands to be felt and yada yada yada! We’ve all watched *The Fault in Our Stars*. But come on, there’s an expiry date to feeling it too. I told you, you’re an extreme case. Pain won’t leave you until you leave it. YOU DESERVE THE WORLD. And I know you don’t believe it, but from where I am seeing, all your wishes are about to come true. You’re just ONE decision away. And I am here watching and waiting for you to make that move. Go where your heart is; that’s where you’re supposed to be. Don’t run away from your destiny. Remember, you’re not the same kid who froze at the point of a horrifying sight and couldn’t do anything about it. You’re grown up now. You can HEAL yourself. You’re not hopeless or helpless. You don’t even need to find your potential; it’s just there, waiting for you to see it and accept it.

***

Pile 3

Excuse me, miss/mister? Do you even have time to read what I have to say? You’re too busy figuring things out. Huff! The amount of mental and physical work you do is commendable. Are you waiting for something or someone? I am not surprised to see your spiritual side. What side, huh? You’re SPIRITUAL—IN & OUT! You’re wise, extremely intuitive, and resourceful but haven’t learned how to avoid burnouts. Can something ever be hidden from you? From where I see, it seems you’re new here but not naive. You’ve completed a tough journey filled with passion, rage, excitement, and burnouts (again!). Life has been preparing you for something bigger than your destiny! You’re heavily protected from the forces that don’t want you to be where God is taking you. But we all know who’s more powerful, don’t we? I see you bumping into your past sometimes, but you quickly realize that’s not where you’re supposed to be. The price you would have to pay to return to the same place or people is quite heavy. You don’t feel comfortable in the old stories anymore. You’re grateful but not greedy to go back. I laugh at those who think they can lure you with temptations! Lol! You are ten steps ahead of them. Stay where you are. All this silence around you is a blessing. You’re about to win. You’re meant to win in this lifetime. This is not your first time around. I have seen you somewhere—not here, but in a different lifetime. You’ve lived all those lives to WIN in this one! The smoke of your burned karmas surrounds you. You’ve cleansed! You’re not in the dark; you’re rising from the ashes. I see the wings of a phoenix on your back. YOU’RE THE CREATOR OF YOUR OWN DESTINY. Evidence of your faith and intuition follows you in the forms of birds, butterflies, feathers, and angel numbers. One day, you may share your story, but you know that day is not today. God, you’re mysterious, and all those stories are tattooed on your skin in a language no one can decipher. Your presence is enough for people to turn around, pause, and reflect. You raise the temperature of the room and melt the ice away. People open up to you naturally. Everyone just wants to experience a drop of you. But you’re not easily accessible. Your magic is sacred and can’t be put on sale. You’re magic. The path you’ve walked on shines so bright. That’s how I trace your past life because you leave glitters behind.

[galactic-magick]

here i come with arcane prompts bestie >:3

but this one might hurt ;-;

also SPOILERS FOR S1 IF ANYONE HASNT SEEN IT YET

/////

how about a reader's reaction to the council getting bombed O_O

their frantic attempts to find their lover(Viktor ofc :3), but who they find may not be the man they once knew TwT

I got a little carried away with this one bestie...

-

I Thought You Were Dead: Viktor x Reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Smut about halfway through. I put a *** before the smut starts in case anyone doesn't want to read that part. Reader has afab anatomy but no pronouns or feminine specific endearments are used. Also LORE SPOILERS, if you don't know what happens to Viktor in the League of Legends lore then don't read this!!

Author's Notes: This could be read as a part 2 to my other Viktor fic Nights Like This, which takes place in Act 1 whereas this takes place after season 1.

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The explosion was deafening.

You can feel your soul sink as soon as you step outside your house, watching the smoke surround the council building. Your feet start running before you’ve processed anything, pushing through the gasping crowds in the streets with their eyes glued to the same devastating spectacle.

Tears stream down your face against the dusty wind, praying to anyone who will listen that your worst fear hasn’t happened. Running as if getting there faster might change the outcome.

It can’t end like this. Not when you haven’t said everything you want to say. Not when you have so much left to do together.

Not when you haven’t said goodbye.

The truth is, you haven’t even seen your husband in several days, maybe even a whole week. He’s been distant lately, so consumed by his experiments that he rarely comes home anymore. You knew what you were getting into marrying a scientist, especially the finest scientist in Piltover, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him driving himself mad and getting sicker, refusing to let you take care of him like he used to. He doesn’t like when you come to visit him at the lab because it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t come home because he wants to be in the lab—so you’ve stopped trying. You can’t bear to see him hardly eat or sleep for days. You know he loves you, and you still love him, but right now there’s no getting through to him, and all you can do is wait it out until he either comes to his senses or succumbs to his torturous research.

Your mind flashes back to all the fights you had, begging him to come home, begging him to let you stay by his side. You both said things you shouldn’t have, hearts torn apart in mourning of a marriage that once was so perfect. You miss the nights where you were each other's safe space, where the world didn’t feel so grand and overwhelming. You wonder when it was exactly that you stopped fighting, when you gave up on begging and simply loved him as much as you could whenever you finally saw him.

A large battalion of enforcers encircle the scene, pushing back civilians as they attempt to view what happened. The rubble has fallen into mountains, several of them on fire.

You know he was in there. He must’ve been.

“Where are the survivors?!” you demand, shoving against the enforcers.

“We have not found any yet. Please return to your home-”

You pull out the knife you keep in your pocket for emergencies, pressing it against the enforcer’s throat, “My husband was in there. I am not leaving until I find him.”

The other enforcers turn their weapons towards you, and you quickly realize you’ll never beat them with nothing but a dagger and deep rooted rage.

You drop the knife to the ground and put your hands up, awaiting your fate. Would they kill you? Send you home with a warning? Trial you?

Well, not without a council.

“Please…” the sobs return, their weapons still pointing at you. “I just want to know if he’s alive. Just let me look for his body-”

You’re cut off by hands on your wrists and mouth, handcuffing you and knocking you out.

Several months later...

You should’ve known any retaliation against an enforcer could get you thrown in here.

Back against the stone wall of your cell in Stillwater, you envision that day once again, hating yourself for being so stupid. Without the council, the enforcers have started throwing literally anyone in here. In an attempt to contain the chaos of no longer having a government, even the smallest crime or protest is equivalent to murder. All you did was threaten an officer for information on your husband, but that was enough to banish you from any possibility of ever seeing him again.

If he was alive, would he know to come find you? Or would he go back home to find you gone and assume you died? Would he throw himself back into his research regardless of the tragic accident, not even noticing you haven’t tried to visit him in months?

Most days it’s easier to just tell yourself he’s dead. The man you loved so deeply no longer exists, and you’ll never love again. This is your life now, cold and dark and hopeless.

You sink to the floor, leaning on your side in an effort to get some sleep.

Though your slumber is awakened not long after by terrifying noises down the hall.

A collection of screams, an alarm bell, and loud clanging fill your ears. You jump up, looking through the bars of your cell to get a glimpse. You see nothing, but then begin to hear stomping footsteps thundering towards your end of the hall.

You stumble back to the far wall, shaking as the footsteps get closer.

The first thing you see is a pair of glowing orange eyes staring at you through the bars, and your breath leaves your lungs.

Is this really how you’re fated to die?

With ease, the mysterious figure rips off the door with what looks like a mechanical arm. The dim light hits him, and your entire body trembles. He’s covered in metal plating and armor, his face covered with a thick mask. He doesn’t strike you as human, except for what looks like human hair falling around his head.

He walks towards you, and you cower in his shadow. What does this machine want from you? You have nothing.

He says your name, and you freeze. It’s modulated and echoed from the mask, but you are certain that’s what he said.

And you’re also certain you’ve heard that voice before.

The figure reaches his hand towards you, the cold metal of his fingers touching your face. It tingles, as if there’s energy sparking through. His other hand lifts off his mask and drops it to the floor.

“Viktor?”

Parts of his face are covered with metal plating, but it’s undoubtedly him. Same eyes, same nose, same cheekbones. His hair swooping down the sides of his forehead and the small gap between his teeth.

You throw your arms around him and kiss him, your body hitting his metal torso hard enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care. You kiss him until there’s not a single atom of oxygen left in your lungs, and even then you risk a few seconds more, his lips worthy of causing suffocation. Your fingers slide into his hair, just as soft as your remember. He gently embraces you back, wary of hurting you with how tightly he wishes to hold you.

“Viktor—I went to find you that day—“ you pant for air. “I thought you were dead—“

“I know, darling, I know,” he kisses your forehead before fervently returning to your lips. “I thought you were dead too before I heard word of people being sent here.”

He breaks apart from you and you let out a soft whine, “Vik-”

“I have to get you out of here now, okay?”

You nod in understanding and grab onto him as he puts his mask back on. He races back down the hall, pushing any leftover guards out of his way. You cling onto him, in disbelief that he moves so fast with ease. So many questions run through your mind, but you know you’ll have to wait for answers.

He carries and holds you in silence until you both get to safety. You don’t recognize the place he’s taken you to, but it’s undoubtedly his space. The tools and gadgets all over the tables and walls, the dim light you don’t understand how anyone could work under, the journals with different equations written barely legibly. You wonder if your old home is still standing or has been taken by someone else. Either way, this is your home now.

With him.

He takes off his mask and you’re once again met with his beautiful face. Scarred and tired, but still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” he says. “I know I will never be able to make it up to you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am never letting you leave my sight again.”

Your bodies instinctively wrap around each-other, him picking you up and setting you down on one of his desks. The sensation is so new, since he’s never been strong enough to lift you before. Despite the novelty though, it feels as if no time has passed, as if this is a routine you’ve done every day, his hands all over you as soon as you’re alone.

You want to ignore the insanity of all this, how the love of your life has returned to you encased in metal. You want to forego all the questions, letting him continue his kisses on your neck and the wandering fingers on your thigh. You wonder what he feels like now—if it’s different—if what he can do to you now will make you forget every tear you ever shed for him.

You sigh, completely drunk on his touches.

“Viktor…” You look into his eyes, tracing your thumbs along his now metallic jaw. “I want to know what happened to you. Please.”

His caresses slow, his focus shifting to your words, “I will tell you everything, I promise,”

You grasp his hands, “Then tell me.”

He exhales, looking down at himself. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He doesn’t want to risk you thinking of him differently or not loving him the same. Without you, he’d have nothing left to stay human for.

After all, he’s more machine than man now.

“I was as good as dead,” he finally says. “My injuries should’ve killed me, but an old…” he hesitates, “...friend found me. He helped me use hextech and shimmer to fix and augment my body. I’m stronger now, I can help more people now, I can protect you now. I’ve evolved beyond my human ailments-”

“Viktor,” you interrupt him. “Who helped you?”

He falls silent, fully aware you already know the answer.

“How could you?” you scold him. “How could you go back to that horrid, vile man? Who knows what he really did to you?”

“Singed may have unethical methods, but I assure you I’d be dead right now without him. You wouldn’t understand-”

“I understand that he sees you as nothing more than an experiment! What’s going to happen when this new body starts to break down? He’ll replace you with more mechanical parts until there’s nothing left of you. He does anything to make his specimens survive, and you know that!”

“So you’d rather me be dead? You’d rather still be in Stillwater, rotting your days away in misery?”

The floodgates of your glassy eyes break, and you let out the ugliest of sobs that have been building up for too long. No, you don’t want him dead, of course you don’t.

But there are fates worse than death.

You clumsily grab for him, pulling him between your legs and surrounding him with your limbs. Your lips crash together once more, this time more carnal and aggressive. Regardless of how angry you are, you can’t deny that you need him desperately. He cradles your face, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“Just promise me…” you beg into his mouth. “Promise me you won’t go back there again. Stay with me.”

“I promise,” he hums. “But you have to promise me something too.”

“What?” your eyes are already fluttering deliriously.

“You have to promise you’ll let me apologize every day of the rest of our lives,” he brushes his lips against your ear while his hands wander up your shirt, “And I think I know how you want me to do it.”

Your eyes widen, shivers already running down your spine.

***

It’s been so long, your body yearning for his as if you’ve been deprived from him for an eternity. You want to feel his new hands everywhere, his new fingers inside you…

Viktor wastes no time stripping you down, your shirt and bra flung across the room. He buries his face between your breasts for a moment before hoisting you up again, carrying you to the mattress in the corner.

“Since when do you ever have a proper place to sleep in your labs?” you laugh, sinking into the unexpected comfort.

“I didn’t get it for sleeping,” he smirks, placing kisses across your chest and shoulders, “I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I rescued you.”

“You’re telling me you got this bed just to fuck me?”

“Of course,” he shrugs, completely matter-of-factually.

You chuckle, a genuine smile stretching across your face so wide it almost hurts. You haven’t laughed or felt the pure joy and bliss of being in love in so long.

“I…” Viktor speaks again, hovering over you. “I don’t know fully what this new body can do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Is it...different?”

“Everything’s different,” he leans down to kiss you again. “Let’s just hope it’s in a good way.”

You nod enthusiastically, pulling him down to you. His cold metal torso presses against yours, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. You quickly acclimate to the new textures of his figure, wondering if any skin still exists.

He remembers all the places you like to be touched and kissed, and you grow more impatient by the minute. You’ve needed him—ached for him. You want him in any way he can give you.

He pulls off the rest of your clothes, teasing his mechanical fingers in circles around your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you moan, slithering your own fingers into his hair.

Viktor’s always been good with his hands, being an inventor and all. He’s never once failed to satisfy you with his hands alone since you’ve been together, and he certainly wasn’t stopping now. He goes slowly, constantly needing reassurance that you’re alright. There’s nothing sharp about his fingers, a relief to both of you. They move just like his old flesh did, pulsing in and out with the finest precision. There’s moments where you feel a slight vibration, although you’re unsure if he’s doing that purposefully. Either way, he keeps you in ecstasy until you eventually come undone.

You pull his lips back up to yours immediately, craving his taste. His hands run down your body once again before returning back to the same spot.

You yelp his name as he works more fingers inside you. This is unheard of, him going back for more so soon. You had grown accustomed to his low stamina from before, and you never minded multiple rounds being a rarity. But now there’s not a single hint of exhaustion on his face, his augments freeing him from much of the pain that used to plague him. Instead there’s determination in his eyes, a drive to make love to you until you can’t take it anymore.

He builds you up to your second orgasm of the night, kissing and holding you softly as you come down from it.

“Viktor…” you sigh, completely out of breath. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down his body, “Darling, I...I’m not sure if everything works the same. You don’t have to worry about me—“

“Let me try,” you plead. “Does any of this come off?”

He nods, removing the outer layers of metal with clicks and hisses. It was hard for you to tell where the armor ended and his body began, but the more he takes off, the more you recognize his familiar silhouette. There’s still patches of flesh here and there—warm skin to your fingertips, fused with the augmentations flawlessly.

And it seems the area you’ve wanted to see is one of the places untouched.

Well, not completely untouched. It’s covered in glowing purple veins, throbbing like they’ll explode any second. Viktor looks into your eyes nervously, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” your breaths are hot, hovering over his lips. “Now tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” he moans as your hand takes hold of his hardness.

“Everything seems to be working fine to me,” you smile, lining him up with your entrance. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’s shaking, for the first time since all his enhancements. He’s been so strong—no—indestructible, yet one look at you and the vulnerability returns in crashing waves. He’s still the same man you fell in love with, but now he could too easily hurt you.

He presses in slowly, eyes locked on your expressions for any sign of discomfort, but they never come. Instead, the noises and faces you make could be enough for him to finish right then and there if he didn’t have such control.

“Viktor…” you sigh, pulling him towards you as he bottoms out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He stamps kisses on your jaw, then nuzzles his nose into your neck, “You feel even better than I remembered.”

“Do I now?” you chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he looks back up at you.

“Mmhmm,” he begins to thrust in and out slowly, earning more luscious sounds from your lips.

There’s so much of him that feels the same, but the sensation is so new. Is he bigger than before? Is it just the different texture from the shimmer experiments? You’re not sure, all you truly care about is that he feels divine.

You’re both getting close, whispering “I love you’s” until the long awaited release. He holds you tightly afterwards, refusing to let go until you both catch your breath.

“Viktor,” you ruffle his hair. “As amazing as that was, I don’t think I can handle a round four.”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. I’ll only go as long as you want me to. There’s always tomorrow.”

You giggle, kissing the top of his head. You push yourself up on your elbows, looking at the mess you both made, “I think we ruined your new mattress.”

He glances as well, noticing the cum stains, some of them a light purple color, a supposed side effect of the shimmer, “We’ll get a new one. For now lets get you cleaned up.”

He picks you up in one swift motion, carrying you outside. His new lab is conveniently next to the river, and far away enough from other houses to protect your decency. The water is cold, but not unbearably so. The stickiness rinses off, and you’re left to admire your lover once again in the moonlight.

He glistens under the stars, his gaze soft and sweet, just as it’s always been. His hands never leave you, caressing your wet skin gently and adoringly.

He’s still everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s still the man you’d die and kill for.

He’s still the one you’ll spend the rest of your days with, no matter what he becomes.

[nothingenoughao3]

Why we wanna transition to Mad Scientist (or, revulsion and queerness in horror)

(Hi, @ash-eats-film! This is the thing I mentioned!)

Horror has a few baseline emotions it tries to inflict on the audience. This has been written about for decades, most famously by Stephen King, but the baseline elements most writers agree on are as follows.

Dread: Anxiety over what is about to happen

Terror: The fear of what is occurring right this second

Revulsion: Being forced to interact directly with what's happening right now

Black comedy: Being tricked into laughing at either the terror or the revulsion

Horror: The trauma response to what just happened

A great example of this can be seen in The Evil Dead II (YT link that doesn't include the full context, but does have the, uh, money shot). There's the dread of realizing there's something in the root cellar; the terror of when the Deadite pops up in the trapdoor; the combined revulsion and black comedy of Ash jumping on the Deadite's skull/the door, popping out its eyeball which shoots into Bobby Joe's mouth, and then the horror of what just went down rolling over Ash and his current companions.

Often, revulsion and black comedy go hand in hand. That's because they're tension relievers. The revolting thing becomes ridiculous, and you laugh at how ridiculous it is. This lets you settle down in the midst of the gore and death, just slightly, just enough to get through it... so the horror can fully set in for you, too, once it's over.

You also, often, question your own stability if you laugh in the middle of a gross-out horror scene: "Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me for laughing at X?" This is even worse if the villain starts laughing--now you're questioning whether you're IDing with the monster. Are you okay? Is something wrong with you?

Revulsion is often framed as the slutty member of the good, proper, morally-upright brigade of horror. We have a name for folks who seek out gross-out horror--they're gore-hounds, a term that is virtually always pejorative when applied to other people. We call certain types of horror "torture porn" or "gore porn", as though it is inherently sleazy and sexual to rely on this specific emotional reaction. (Note that we don't have "black comedy-porn", or "dread hounds", even though a dread hound sounds really fucking cool.)

Not to go off on a huge tangent, but I think the issue with media that overly relies on revulsion is that it's unbalanced, not that it's bad. A movie that's nothing but dread never has any emotional payoff. A movie that's nothing but terror never lets the audience relax back into their seats and, paradoxically, will become boring (imagine two hours of jumpscares).

So forth and so on: all aspects of horror rely on each other to survive. That includes scenes that make you go "Awww, sick" while nervously cackling.

Here's the thing: in previous generations, revulsion was similarly understood to be an essential part of horror, but what led to a revolted reaction was very different.

Lovecraft (boo this man! BOOOOO) understood the power of revulsion, which was the source of a lot of his strangest and most vivid descriptions. It was also the source of some of his most bigoted ideas working into his stories. The undercurrent of "non-WASPs are evil because they are repulsive" is as pervasive in his work as "the universe is incomprehensibly vast". You kind of can't get around that.

But there's another thing Lovecraft did to generate revulsion. He wrote a number of stories where an unhealthy focus on corpses, graveyards, graverobbing, and the like is, indirectly or directly, associated with sexual perversion. 

How many, you may ask? Off the top of my head, there's "The Loved Dead", "In the Vault", "The Disinterment", "Pickman's Model", The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, "The Hound" and "Herbert West: Re-Animator". All of these tales share certain themes, which don't repeat beat-for-beat in each tale but do overlap:

Male character becomes obsessed with dead bodies--whether that's stealing them, having sex with them, desecrating them, or resurrecting them.

He is comfortable around death and the dead to a degree that is unusual, sometimes explicitly stating that he prefers the smells/sights of death to those of life.

Terms like "fiendish", "hellish", "abnormal" and "perverse" are used to describe him; his gaze towards dead bodies or to experiments may be framed as "leering" or "speculative".

He is frequently a twink; often described as being frail, if not noticeably beautiful; he may recall being mocked for being "bookish" or "weak" as a child.

He is superficially charming in a way that gets him by in polite society, but not long-term nor in-depth.

He often ensnares an otherwise "normal" man to share his obsessions, effectively recruiting him as an assistant... until the "normal" guy realizes he's about to go on the chopping block (or, in at least one story, already was on the chopping block).

Their crimes involve a lot of sneaking around late at night, locked doors, whispering so they don't get caught (or they'll be killed), secretiveness, glee at getting away with it, and frequently, sharing the same living space.

The Unrepentant Evil Dude is often killed at the end of his tale in a way that implies vigilante/mob justice is at hand. 

The other may be allowed to live if he's very sorry and frames the whole story as being the fault of the other guy, or he may die too while affirming his horrible demise as just, even if it terrifies him.

(One could make an argument that Wilbur Whateley fits into some of these tropes. It's me I'm one)

If this all sounds very gay, Lovecraft probably would have agreed. He had as dim a view of homosexuality as he did on most other things that were Outside The Norm. In other words, we were supposed to see Richard Upton Pickman with his ghouls and think, "Ah, yes, this is a metaphor for queerness", only we were supposed to be revolted by that revelation.

This same attempt at revulsion can be easily read into Victor Frankenstein, and probably more Mad Scientists than I can name offhand (but feel free to in reblogs). Frankenstein's "crimes against nature" were connected to dead bodies as well, and likewise involved a lot of sneaking around, locked doors, and worry about what would happen were he caught with this naked man-thing he's keeping in his dorm. His crime, as with his parody character Herbert West, is creating life outside the bounds of heterosexual cisgender sex. This was meant to revolt readers' sensibilities as much as the whole cutting-up-corpses-and-stitching-them-back-together thing would.

This is why, if we're being honest, "Re-Animator" and "Bride of Re-Animator" are not necessarily gay… they're homophobic. This might be controversial, but stick with me.

I feel like Gordon and Yuzna were tapping into that old-fashioned Revulsion Handbook, including from the source material, which thematically linked Herbert West with queerness. (I'm using "queer" a lot here, but I would personally include trans-friendly readings under that rubric; I'm using "queer" in the analytical sense and not solely in the identity sense.) This means that, ironically, a lot of what we could point to as queer subtext is actually homophobic text.

This is reinforced by the novelization of the first film, written by a homophobe who got Trumpist brainworms later in life. He wanted to make West repulsive to the reader, and therefore, he tried to make West more gay. And IT WORKED. 

To be clear, I'm not accusing anybody, other than the novelist, of being a homophobe. There's a difference between possessing internalized bigoted beliefs which express themselves in writing, versus utilizing tropes originating in bigotry because That's What's Done Around Here. (I can understand why others might not perceive a meaningful difference.) Like the Cuzco lizards, this queerness-as-villainy is definitely a stupid thing ported in from the source material.

I do think that this is why everybody but Our Queen Barbara Crampton seems embarrassed or nonplussed by all the transfags pestering them about fellatio tapes. It's because they don't get why this thing appeals so much to us. It shouldn't. If anything, they should be canceled for having yet another queer-coded villain, along with a number of other plot choices of questionable taste (I'm looking at you, The Head Scene, and I don't like what I see).

Only, uh, it didn't work out that way long-term, did it?

I thank Cronenberg and venereal horror for this, in part. Brutally queer despite not being explicitly gay, venereal horror is what happens when the characters should be revolted, but aren't. 

This kind of thing is horrifying for crossing the line twice: first by being disgusting, then by having characters respond as though it is exciting, or sexually stimulating, or if nothing else, normal. They are perverse. They leer at the dead and the subjects of their experiments. And the disgusting monsters at the center of these narratives are celebrated. Their twisted sexualities are explored with the same brave frankness other filmmakers give to milquetoast cishet missionary nonsense. Their political views are given life and air, and usually, they're right. Their deaths, if they come at all, are framed as tragedies brought on by society's sick rejection of the flesh their brave experimentation.

Cronenberg's the dude who unironically thinks that Shivers (trigger warning for literally everything) has a happy ending. My man David's got subscriptions where others have issues.

Venereal horror has given us a new metaframework for looking at the repulsive, the monstrous, and the problematic and responding to it… differently.

Now here's another thing: Lovecraft likewise provided a structure for embracing the grotesque and the queer.

Pickman, the Decadent artist, paints photorealistic, enormous portraits of ghouls. Literal flesh-eaters. He is fascinated by them, comfortable with them. "Model" heavily implies that Pickman is a ghoul changeling--switched at birth with a human child. This leans into Lovecraft's ideas about heritability being a major source of horror, of course, and seems run of the mill until you get to The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.

In there, Pickman appears again, but this time as a ghoul. He has cast off his human social shackles and joined the beings he loves, beings who understand him and support him. Kadath is notable in that the ghouls are actually... like... reliable, loyal, and morally good? Carter's opinion pretty much is, "They do eat human corpses and they smell awful, but they're all very nice and want to help me on my quest, so maybe they're not so bad (if not as good as the cat army)".

This feels like Lovecraft acknowledging that his entire approach of linking queerness, death, and revulsion is fundamentally flawed. Once you become familiar with the repulsive, it becomes not-really-that-repulsive-at-all. You can find beauty in it, and amusement, and love. Pickman embracing his ghoulish nature isn't all that different from Seth Brundle's overall lack of revulsion at his body's transformation. And it's not that different from what a lot of transmasculine folks go through, either.

It's not that transmascs, trans men, and/or transfags don't see what West does as crimes against nature. It's that we're all very fucking tired of being accused of crimes against nature. We're tired of not being able to look at socmed without finding accusations that we're disgusting perverts who sneak around behind closed doors to corrupt innocent, promising people to be our lackeys and partners in crime.

Hell, I refer to my wife as "my partner in crime" not because it's a cute way of acknowledging how well and how much we work together both in life and creativity. It's also because we could have been arrested for our relationship when we got together.

We were illegal.

There was a lot of sneaking around and whispering and trying not to get caught and "what if they call the cops on us if we're clocked". Can I tell my friends about this? Will they reject me or rat me out? Where am I safe? Nowhere. Best to lock the door and then check it again to be sure. Best to be very quiet.

Best to act like a graverobber trying to get their grisly wares back home before good, decent, Christian folk see them.

So when I hear "Blasphemy? Before what God?!", I read it as (whether he's ace or aro, gay or achillean, trans man or transmasc or genderfucked) a queer slogan of defiance, instead of a defense of graverobbing, corpse desecration, and non-consensual resurrection.

We're told we and our bodies are repulsive, so being told that Herbert is also repulsive makes him more relatable. Instead of wondering what the hell's wrong with him for shooting up reagent, we all theorize that it's actually T or has similar effects--because we're all told that T is a toxin that will horribly change and disfigure our bodies. He dresses in a three-piece suit for school, and instead of reading him as a stiff and overly-formal little freak, we assume he's layering up because he hasn't found a hoodie he likes yet. 

He cackles at his horrific creations, and instead of saying "What a fucking freak (anguished)", we say "What a fucking freak (affectionate)" and laugh along with him. Who among us hasn't taken apart our Barbies and tried to combine their parts with the Kens? What is a doll, or a human, but a collection of parts to be rearranged? Haven't we also been told we're freaks for rearranging our own parts?

We've already been told by society at large that we are Herbert West. We're just embracing it, in the proud tradition of venereal horror fans who are not revolted when they ought to be, and I think that's delightful.

[violetdawn001]

What is with the Dreamers' Houses?!?! Monomon's Archives

Okay, we can all agree that Team Cherry put a LOT of thought into crafting the backgrounds and environments of Hollow Knight. But why is nobody talking about the designs for the Dreamers' houses?! Especially compared with their base forms?  Well, let's start talking about it!

Behold! Monomon's Design!

Taken from Monomon-the-Teacher.jpeg (1280×720) (punishedbacklog.com)

Taken from: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Yn7QtF-wkSY/maxresdefault.jpg

When you meet the Teacher, the first reaction is either "She's beautiful…" or "WHAT IS A JELLYFISH DOING IN A KINGDOM OF BUGS????" If one isn't your first reaction, then it will most certainly be your second.

I could go on about how Monomon pairs her elegant beauty with her mysterious origins, but then I would be repeating words all day. Let us pause and consider how Monomon, as THE Teacher, would teach Physics…while defying them. It isn't too much of a stretch to say Monomon would float outside of her tank when the all the other Jellies in game do.

Next is her Archives that to my knowledge, lacks books.

We are immediately treated at the entrance of Monomon's Archives.  The only word that could sum it up would be awe: awestruck due to the beauty and the mystery. Looking at Monomon's house from the front can't help but remind one of how Jane Austen would describe a character's house…and how the house perfectly matched the character.

Entering the Archives, we quickly guess that no one has been here in a long time.

But walk in far enough…

And you can't help but guess what an awesome place this must have been.  Take a look at the detail!

The insane amount of knowledge stored here is amazing…and we're on the first floor!

Though we can't read most of it…and what we can read…

Why Monomon, why? Even STEM students need to be proficient in spelling. Source: my engineer brother.

Moving on, the pathway to Monomon's tank is very straight-forward. So much so that we never get a chance to see all of the Teacher's Archives. One point that strikes me is that we never get a chance to see any classrooms. We see Monomon as a researcher as noted by the Charged Lumafly tank and entry:

We know Monomon as a collector of information:

We even get glimpses of Monomon being a mad scientist by creating the Uomu, Oomu, and Uummu.

But the only sign of Monomon being a teacher is by her relationship with Quirrel and the name of her Archives. Unless I am missing something, (or we are simply not able to enter the classrooms) the Archives are more of a library and research center than a school. While I am of the mind that we simply do not see the whole Archives as we are so dead-set on getting to Monomon herself, it really says something about Monomon that we can only see the Madame as a Teacher in her relationships with others.

I would love to further this point, but this essay is for the Dreamers' houses, not necessarily the relationships the Dreamers had unless the relationships are implied in the housing designs themselves, such as the masks in Herrah's Den. Another essay would be required so the Dreamers' relationships can be given the focus and care they deserve.

Returning to Monomon's Archives, it is strange that of all the rooms we get access to, it is not ones that Monomon's students can enter. The pathway to Monomon's tank is blocked by acid.

Yet we are the ones able to see Monomon in her resting place.

Besides Quirrel. But Quirrel has a habit of getting into places most wouldn't dare enter. And it is fitting that Quirrel, Monomon's closest student, is the one to enter Monomon's inner sanctuary.

The Tech in the room is simply amazing and begs more study. Atlas, I fear I might have missed a great deal when it comes to the Teacher. If there is anything more, I hope another member of the Hollow Knight community will step up to fill the void, pun intended.

Now, let us discuss a resting place not for Monomon, but for the player.

Is not this place so elegant in its decay? The perfect symmetry and the framing of the moss ceiling…it is a terrible pity we could not see the Teacher's Archives in Hallownest's prime.

Moving past the pity, let me share a little detail. Team Cherry, when designing each location, placed signs of the ruler of said location in the framework of the place, usually in the fencing. For Teacher's Archives…

It's right at the bench! Which means Monomon is in charge!

The above statement, while made in good jest, possibly bears more weight than on a passing glance. We see no Hallownestian Seals or crests imbedded within the walls. There are also no King's idols or any item to be retrieved from the Archives. Everything in the Archives is centered around Monomon and her research.

This idea gives rise to a theory that perhaps the Teacher's Archives was not part of Hallownest, but rather neutral territory where ANYONE could come to learn about anything in peace. This would not be the first time in media where such a place existed. The TV show "Babylon 5" tells the story of a space station created as a place where the different alien races can learn about the other races in neutral territory for the purpose of creating peace.

 To answer some objections, yes, "The Pilgrams' Way" does pass through Fog Canyon, but it also passes through Greenpath which technically belongs to Unn, not the Pale King.  And the Archives is one of the few places that has its own, unique bench. 

If the Archives is not part of Hallownest, what does this neutrality tell us about Monomon? If the Teacher's Archives is indeed neutral territory, it shows how much emphasis Monomon puts on knowledge being open to everyone as the purpose of the Archives is a place to store all the knowledge she collected.

But if Monomon was neutral, how did she get involved with the Dreamer plan? Simple. Monomon cared about her students. Monomon welcomed everyone from anywhere, and everywhere was infected by the Radiance. To save her students, the majority of whom came from Hallownest, Monomon became a Dreamer. Unfortunately, it was all in vain as the world fell into stasis as one by one Monomon's students either died or fell to the Infection. The Archives, where you could find anyone from anywhere in Hallownest, now only holds jellyfish…

Before we wallow in sorrow, let us escape to the City of Tears and to the final Dreamer. Wait for part 3.0 coming soon!

This is a part series to see if I can fit everything in. I hope you enjoyed Monomon's Archives!

Part 1.0: Herrah's Den : Here

Part 2.0: Monomon's Archives (You are here)

Part 3.0: Lurien's Spire : Here

Part 3.25: More of Lurien's Spire: Here

Part 3.5: Lurien's Spire: Pillows and Patriotism: Here

Link to essay on Ao3: Here

[annoyinglandmagazine]

First Time Reading Girl Genius Novels!

Airship City just arrived!!!! So just to clarify, I have read and am entirely up to date on the webcomic so don’t worry about spoiling anything! I’m also only really reacting to things that stick out to me while I’m reading the novels specifically, I already know the story. So without further ado let’s get into it:

Heterodyne Boys content! Hell yes!

Bill silently cleaning his weapons while Barry worries about him is so wholesome and sad at the same time. It is a tragedy that we never really get to see much of this sibling dynamic because it seems really sweet.

The thumbs up signal too, just a little snapshot of how they were before all this.

Damn the Other is terrifying, just picking all the main players off one by one until no one’s even being accused anymore because it’s so clearly something on another level.

‘It was the most Bill had spoken this week.’ This is just too depressing

It’s kind of weird to be reminded that the Heterodynes did actually win against the Other; the end to their story is just so far from triumphant it feels like a loss.

Actual descriptions of the way the locket and the Spark impacts Agatha’s mind!

The atmosphere of Beetleburg is really fleshed out which is nice.

‘Jägermonsters found everything amusing. Except when people tried to beg for mercy. That they found downright hilarious.’ Ha!

The implications that ordinary household appliances have kill modes installed that are only activated in the presence of a strong Mechanicsburg accent should surprise me more than it does

There is so much irony in Agatha hiding the fact she reads Heterodyne Boy novels from her adoptive parents Punch and Judy.

‘If a mad scientist wasn’t at war with at least two of his neighbours it was because he had his back to the sea and even then he had to watch out for an invasion of intelligent sea urchins.’ Europa really is just Like That

The fact the Heterodynes represented hope to the average people because they actually tried gives me so many emotions

Moloch’s narration is a lot more sympathetic than he comes across in the comic at the start.

The general populace automatically getting worried at Sparky tones even with no context is a nice touch

Jägers and their terrible pick up lines make a first appearance

Beetle was really very sweet to Agatha and meant well which I tend to forget because of the whole Hive Engine first impression

‘Glassvitch’s specialty was chemical engineering which minimised his experience with hysterically sobbing young ladies.’

Something, something, “science is better than emotions or people” is both extremely autistic and a very common take in Girl Genius which I love.

Klaus’ backstory is once again so depressing.

Also the fact no one took him seriously because he was an adventurer who let Bill and Barry take the spotlight and then he just came back out of nowhere, challenged anyone to try and take him on and ended up taking over a significant part of the continent, is kind of badass.

Oh Agatha, assassination attempts since he was revealed are nothing in the wide array of shit going on to make Gil the way he is; that is so far from the problem that to call it the tip of the iceberg would be assigning it too much importance

Boris being known and feared almost as much as the Baron, hell yes, that long suffering man deserves respect for his efforts.

‘He clutched the fishbowl to his chest protectively’ Gil, I love you

Klaus swinging an arm around Gil’s shoulder and patting it while smiling and calling him his son non critically might be the most affection we’ve ever seen him express.

Why do I feel like this is peak healthiness for their relationship, the bar is in the fucking basement

Klaus and Gil ‘eyed each other, as if each were embarrassed at the thought of speaking first. Finally the Baron cleared his throat and said, “Yes, Gil, what do you think of that?”

The description makes that already hilarious interaction so much better. Their whole role in this confrontation reads as second hand embarrassment at the poor planning of their enemies and awkwardness at being remotely associated with this disaster of an coup

‘Klaus looked disgusted’ yep that’s definitely it.

The Wulfenbach Empire understanding that most Sparks really only want praise, a space to work, something to challenge them and someone to make sure they eat is hilarious.

Worldbuilding in the form of universe specific bigotry is my jam. The way constructs get portrayed as comic relief in pop culture due to a culture of discrimination is ingenious. I also appreciate the touch that Klaus has strong and public opinions on this though I suppose it’s not that surprising considering he himself is one in some sense.

I think Lilith teaching music and dance is a new detail and it’s nice to flesh their lives out more, it fits what little we know about her really well.

They are such good parents and this is just adorable

That’s all for now, I’ll pick it up again later!

[witchofsparkles]

Soap groaned in front of the mirror while scrubbing his bloody face with a dampaned rag because washing it with handful of water would make his bathroom look like a murder scene. Which he just came from. And he wasn’t in the mood for more of it.

This time the mission was especially bloodier. Merchaneries popping out of everywhere and bullets flying, only the glint of a very fast knife seen and gurgling voices mixed with screams. They successfully obtained the data they went for, but the cost of it was more nightmares and horror – like always.

After freeing his face from dirt and blood, Soap showered before treating the small cuts on his face and the bullet graze on his left bicep which the meds told him to care for. Soap was already out of the infirmary when he didn’t hear anything about his life being in danger and run for the comfort of his room instead. He could care for it in solitude of the four walls of his bathroom.

He left the shower with a sour mood, nothing he would do now were to solve his post-duty problem. Not before sleeping like a dead man in a coffin for at least 8 hours. With that in mind, he mindlessly stepped towards to the mirror again, to see his face. But he had to bit down on his lips to stop himself from screaming his head off and probably gather every soldier on the base with guns ready in his room. Between the foggy surface of his mirror and the reflection of his face, he could’ve sweared he saw someone else. It was a faint shadow of a white skull, with very alive and brown eyes. When Soap blinked, it was gone.

“I’m losing it this time, ain’t I?” Soap took a step back from the mirror but his hands were gripping the sink like it was the reason why his life was a miserable mess and his brain was going out of it. “What the fuck?”

After the jump scare of his life, Soap intented to act as if nothing happened and he cleaned his injuries before going to bed. But everytime he closed his eyes, a pair of brown eyes were looking at him througha skull -a skull probably belonged to a very, very dead man. Soap shook his head and sighed into his pillow. If he were not to sleep in twenty minutes maximum, everybody in the base were gonna be in need of a psych eval because Soap was about to start making his own problems everybody’s bussiness.

At the morning, Soap run into Gaz. Gaz eyed him like he saw a ghost. “Man, what the hell? You gonna carry groceries in those bags under your eyes?”

Soap, who couldn’t sleep because of a mind so fucked up that kept showing him skulls and eyes and blood and everything bad, felt his eyebrow twitching. “No, it’s for your dead body if you don’t shut up and let me eat in peace and silence.”

Gaz made him a face while sitting across the table and put his tray on it. “I mean, we all had hell of a fight yesterday but it’s nothing new after 5 years in it and I sure hell am not looking like a mad scientist. And this is probably the first time you wanted peace and silence. Did something happen?”

Soap sighed into his breakfast. He didn’t know why a simple illusion threw him off like that. It was just for a millisecond and his mind was most llikely playing him games after a long day of fighting for his life. But something in that millisecond was keeping his mind busy and his heart heavy. After the first shock of a seeing… ‘someone’ in his mirror, that fear changed into discomfort. Like he had to do something but he couldn’t and it kept him awake at night. He was feeling very dumb for it. Also saying shit like ‘I saw someone in my mirror last night’ in army was a sure way of kicked out.

“Nothing happened. Just tired. Couldn’t sleep.” Gaz didn’t buy it, Soap could see but he couldn’t care less. Before any of them even breathed, they heard Price’s call for them. “Soap, Gaz. Follow me.”

Soap’s mind was occupied but he finally finished what Price wanted –paperwork. And more paperwork. He was actually glad for it, he finally let his thoughts scatter around and picked them up back when he was done. Soap gathered the papers and head for the door but something on the window stopped him. He faced the window, the sun was setting and the orange sky was reflecting on the glass. But it was not the scenery that caused him to stop and look. It was something on the glass -someone. That same face he saw the night before on his mirror was there again and this time he actually stared at it. Then the image disappeared like it came, in no more than a second he was looking at an ordinary window again. Soap’s fists was clenched around the papers. This time the face was there longer than before and he actually stared at the skull. Hell, they locked eyes. In his brain, there was a war going on now: He was seeing things because he was going mad or he was seeing things… because. And he didn’t know which one was worse.

Soap went straight for the bed after that, didn’t even waved back to his friends. His mind was somewhere else and his eyes were unfocused, he only realized he was back at his room when he reached to the door. He muttered to himself. “What is my problem?”

“Me?”

[thepenultimateword]

A Little Bit of Madness

CW: serious Injury, surgery, implied needles, body modification

Supervillain awoke with a start, a sort of ghastly, gasping awakening that even startled them. They blinked hard, slowly taking in their position, prostrate on a cold table. Three things struck all at once: one, they had no idea where they were or how they got here. Two, they couldn't move. Three, they couldn't feel. From the thick feeling in their head, they thought that things should be hurting, but the only sensation they were getting was a strange numbness from head to toe.

They made some effort to lift their lifeless arms but only managed a tired grunt.

"Don't move, my love," came a familiar, reedy voice near their head.

"Scientist?" Supervillain mumbled. It came out croaky, but at least that was one part of their body they could move.

In answer, cool hands began stroking down their temples. "Those horrible heroes tried to kill your beautiful self."

"Kill me?"

"Yes." Scientist stooped down, the sharp diamond cut of their bones coming into view as their long hair tickled Supervillain's cheek. Supervillain searched their sterile gray eyes, more like doomsday cloud today than their usual steady steel. "They completely ignored our treaty and decided to take their chances and blow you up. Not good chances. You know, I think they underestimate me."

"Scientist..." Supervillain strained to move an arm, a finger, a muscle, anything to hold them. Their lover was sensitive, always double, triple, quadruple checking, fearing the worst, overprotecting. This injury must have devastated them. Well, if they couldn't comfort them with touch, they could manage some words. "I'm here. It's ok. I'm ok."

"They still haven't realized that I'm the boss in the relationship," Scientist laughed flatly, hysteria rising. "They think it's you with your powers and your voice and your big shoulders. They think if you're out of the picture everything will be solved. But I gave you those powers and I made those plans." Scientist pounded their chest, suddenly roaring, "If they wanted you dead, they should have killed me first!"

Supervillain's insides washed cold. Something was wrong. Very very wrong. This wasn't stress from a regular injury. This didn't even feel like a regular patch job.

"Scientist...what do you mean by "blown up"? How..." Supervillain winced as they tried to summon their latest memory and came up with nothing but heat and blinding light. "How am I here? What did you do?"

Scientist brushed at Supervillain's short hair, pinching at strands and smoothing them back. "You're stable. But some of the pieces still need to take."

"Pieces?" Supervillain's voice went up an octave. "What did you do?"

"I saved you, my love." They pressed a soft kiss to their forehead. "And maybe made you a little bit better. So that you'll stay safe."

"Scientist? Scientist what did you do? What exactly did you do? What happened."

"All in good time, love." Scientist moved out of Supervillain's line of sight. "For now, sleep. It's too early for you to be awake. You could hurt yourself."

There was some light clattering to Supervillain's right, and suddenly a sharp pinch in Supervillain's neck. Almost immediately all the lights and colors and sounds blurred together into pitch black.

The next time they woke, they were in a bed instead of a table. It was one of those wheeled hospital beds with an IV drip hooked up to it, but still a bed. Things still felt a little strange--courtesy of whatever was in that drip they were sure--but at least a few small kicks under the covers proved they could move again.

"There you are," came Scientist's voice, first distant and all at once right next to their head. "There's my favorite villain. Hey, love."

Supervillain took them in in slow blinks.

"How are you feeling?"

Another blink. "You did something to me."

It slipped off their tongue before they even recalled the night before. They didn't intend it to come out so much like an accusation.

Scientist's expression tightened, if only to keep themselves together. "You were in pieces. Even when I got most of you on life support, I had to go scrounging around the city for whatever parts those disgusting heroes didn't steal."

"Steal?"

"DNA, darling. Of course, they have their own scientific team assigned to cloning it. Their own army of supers. Fortunately, when I gave you those powers they weren't meant to alter you on a genetic level. I don't think they'll find much." Maybe Scientist saw the sickened look on their face because they dropped the topic. "No matter. All that's important is you're alright now. Do you want some jello? Or pudding? Oh, I got that swirl kind you like."

"I want a mirror."

"Not yet, darling. It'll be too much of a shock all at once. Give yourself time to get used to the feel first."

"I want a mirror," Supervillain repeated more firmly.

Scientist’s lips tightened, but they nodded. “As you wish."

They shuffled out of the room. Supervillain watched after them for a moment but quickly their eyelids began to droop. The next thing they knew Scientist was gently shaking their shoulder. Their lover pointed to the other side of the room before stepping away and biting the back of their knuckle.

Supervillain’s eyes flicked to the floor length mirror propped on the barren wall in front of them. For a moment they couldn’t find themselves. Only…metal.

An arm, a chest plate, a panel in their head where the hair cut short. As they straightened a sharp clicking sound resonated over their shoulder and their reflection showed a sort of long metal rod beginning at the base of their neck and followed the curve of their back like an outer spine.

“I can attach other prosthetics to that,” Scientist said quickly. “Wings, tail, whatever. It’s meant to connect the rest of these pieces to your nervous system but that’s the bonus.”

Nervous system. Suddenly Supervillain didn’t trust their earlier movement. They tossed back the blanket as best they could and, as they feared, found two completely new legs underneath.

They couldn’t breathe.

“I-I’m going to figure out how to synthesize a sort of skin to cover over it all,” Scientist said. “That way you won’t feel so strange.”

“So I won’t feel strange?” Supervillain murmured. “Everything left of me is burned, and the rest…” They scoffed, clenching their fists. “You don’t want me to feel strange? I am strange! You made me strange! That’s what you do! You push and prod and break and put back together! You think it’s fun making monsters? Experimenting like the rest of us are just lab rats in your world? You’re not Frankenstein! You’re not Dr. Jekyll! You’re just a villain who always takes it too far! You weren’t supposed to do this to me! I trusted you! You weren’t supped to…”

Supervillain turned their hands back and forth in front of them. A loud sob forced its way up their throat.

"I know." Scientist slid into the bed beside them and wrapped them in their arms. "I know. But I could not lose you. I would not."

Supervillain buried their face into Scientist’s neck, fury overshadowed by their need for comfort. A monster in the hands of their creator.

[azurlily]

Hange zoe DATING headcannons (your choice on sfw or nsfw or both if you’d like!) -🐢

Dating Hange Zoe would be like:

Hange is a scientist, so of course they need to gather research on you before "jumping to conclusions".

She'll watch you when out on missions just in case a titan gets a bit too close. Cant have her lover getting hurt, right?

Depending on wether you are a cadet or not, she will either show too much or little amounts to PDA.

If you are a cadet(18 OR OVER), well she'll keep your relationship a secret until she feels comfortable. If not, be prepared they love to show you off.

Hange keeps you close in a secret fear of never seeing you again. What if you're out on a mission and DIE? They wouldn't be able to bear it.

Hange sometimes uses their rank to get you things. Extra food, water, anything she can find.

Will start thinking about you when they are pulling an all nighter and cant stop. They wonder where you are, if you're asleep, if you're awake... if you're cheating on them

Hange is very self conscious about herself. She thinks that she isn't good enough sometimes and doesn't know what to do.

You, of course squash these thoughts by kissing her and showing her you love her. You show her how important she is to you.

Hanges kisses are gentle and sweet. She can get a little overwhelming due to the fact that shes just so happy to see you.

Dont ever let her sweet demeanor fool you though. They could very easily hurt someone or something if mad enough.

Example: Levi had made a comment about you being unprofessional because he believes your relationship(all relationships not just the gay ones) should be kept private. He berated you and told you to this is the military your could die any day.

You told Hange, and by the gods. You have never seen her so mad. They told you it was okay, and that they would "talk" to Levi.

The talking that she did ended up in her blowing up about how rude it was and how Levi wouldn't understand because his lover is dead. She slapped Levi and told him, "When you understand how afraid I am for her safety, you can talk about relationships."

You never thought she'd get mad enough to mention them(no real lover I'm just using this). Levi didn't say anything, he should have, but he didn't. Hange is the commander now, Hange is in control.

When Hange came back to you she promised it was handled nicely and neatly.

You never had a problem with anyone talking about your relationship ever again.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Hard, fast, rough. Maybe a bit sweet.(not maybe definitely) Hange gets quite needy after overworking and needs some help. You'll help her right?

They like being in control. With losing everyone and becoming commander she needs a form of stress relief.

They like when you call them daddy, seeing as they feel more masculine in bed. The first time you called them daddy. Well, your thighs hurt with how good she fucked you.

They love to eat you out. She prefers you not eat her, but if you convince her to let you. You'll have them wrapped tight around your finger.

She eat you for hours, she loves when you cry, and whine, and beg. She loves hearing you please for mercy while you both know she ain't giving you none.

"Aww, yes, I know it hurts. I know, but you'll take it, you'll take me. Now open those pretty thighs up again, I wasn't done."

Dont try bratting with them, it only makes things worse for you. They are the definition of fuck around and find out in bed. The madder she is the rougher she gets.

If you're sweet though, she'll treat you like the pretty little slut you are. She'll tell you, you're a good little slut and fuck you till you're both numb.

She has high stamina during the day. Why wouldn't she at night too?

"Fuckk, such a dumb little slut. You sure know how to eat me out. Maybe I'll reward you if you're good. You wanna be a good slut for me?

Dont worry she'll reward you, she melts when you eat her. Dont let her try and fool you.

As you can see she has a praise and degradation kink. They'll bully you in bed, make you cry(tears of pleasure), while fucking you so hard it should hurt.

Then again, you are her slut. So why does it matter if it hurts, you're here to feel good, to be overstimulated til you can't move, much less talk.

Aftercare is something out of this world. She'll bring you food, water, and will help you clean up.

She constantly reassures you she isn't mad, that she loves you, that you're hers. Shes so gentle with you.

She'll help you fall asleep and lay there for a while playing with your hair/drawing shapes on your skin with her hand.

Hii 🐢! I'm so glad someone has put in a request. It's not the best hit I'm working on my writing skills! I use a mixture of she/they for Hange seeing as I dont know if they are nonbinary or if that's a rumor. Anyway thank you for reading!

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Could you give your top 5 Scarecrow quotes of all time?

Not in any order: and I'm doing ten.

He's more than just scrawny Jonathan Crane, more than just the Scarecrow. He's s scientist, too. A trained psychologist who made fear the center of all his research. The gas was just a tool, one of many. He will show them, these doubters and bullies. These small men. He will show them and then all gotham (and yes, even that other manipulator of fear, The Batman!) that he doesn't need his special gas to strike terror in others. He will show them what real fear is all about

Fear is primal. Raw. Blood pressure increases. Veins in your skin contract. Your immune system shuts down. Even if you attempt to steel against fear, ... it is undeniable. Fear makes us human. That was the conclusion of Charles Darwin. Who am I to argue? I'm a man of science, too. A psychologist. But few know my academic achievements. If you know me at all, you know me as ... the Scarecrow!

But fear reveals the truth, erodes your self-control. Soon you will kill and become that which you hate the most. Soon, the Bat will be broken!

It's gone, Dark Knight-the grip you had on Gotham. Your long reign of fear. I'm sovereign now.

It's not fear that drives the Batman, not exactly. It's loss. The man behind that striking cowl lost something dear to him--something that made him afraid. Something that made him refuse to ever be afraid again. But he is afraid. Of losing Robin. Of losing Gotham. Of you.

I made this just for you. I admit I'm anxious to see what you think. When I work, you're the audience I'm trying to please. I hope you're flattered by that. You should be.

The sinister Scarecrow is free once more -- a living heart attack loose in the dark!

Your fears got the better of you I see. How fitting that I will win and Batman's life will be over... not because of what I have done to your precious city, but because you are scared of what I will do to your friends, your family. They are your weakness, hiding just below the surface. I'm sure that you're scared of what will happen when I tear that mask from your face. What will we find? Your true identity, or proof that without your mask you are nothing. Impotent. Powerless, Afraid.

I was a professor of psychology, specializing in phobias. Inducing terror has always intrigued me. Even, as a boy, I liked to frighten things. People, animals, it was all the same. I became obsessed with fear's crippling power. Later, when I became their leading professor of subliminal psychology at the university, I began performing experiments on fear and its subsequent effects. Dr. Long thought I went too far. He called me a lunatic. So now, they will learn the true nature of horror!

I fear nothing and no one. Not even you -- the biggest and worst bully of all, the one who shattered my confidence and buried the pieces in that dark pit of madness -- locked me fast in the grim stone of Arkham. But I'm out now! Risen again! And I am a strong-willed, single-minded, bat-hating machine! I've spent years honing my violent dance -- endless hours mastering the Crane style of martial arts. I am a new Scarecrow -- the invincible agent of your doom... I am the vengeance reaper!

[im-not-batman]

Okay i am SO excited that people were interested so here it is. I need to preface this with the fact that it won't be totally 1-to-1.

9-1-1/The West Wing Fusion crossover AU thing

SO, i already said Bobby is the President. Not only does it make sense for his relationships with everyone else, but he is also very similar to Bartlett in a lot of ways: the Catholicism, the hidden illness (Jed's MS and Bobby's Alcoholism and PTSD), the strong moral compass and the way they are always everyone's go-to for advice. Also the way they deal with problems and conflict.

Athena is obviously FLOTUS. Unfortunately i suffer with Can't-Stand-Athena Disease, so i'm leaning on my love of Abbey for this one. But they're both very capable, intelligent women who can't be told what to do. Both are completely devoted to their families and are even self-destructive with that love sometimes. (Athena going after Amir (DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT - FUCKING ACAB) and Abby secretly treating Jed's MS and putting her lisence in question).

May and Harry should take on the roles of Zoey and Ellie respectively. May still being the older sibling, i just think they fit the personalities of the siblings better that way. Harry being distant and aloof until they have a breakthrough, May being close to the family and friendly with the other staffers. Also the Charlie/Zoey of it all.

Hen (my beloved) is Chief of Staff. This feels obvious. She's already Bobby's second in command, she's got the instict for it, and the respect of all the others. I also think she would still have a fire fighting background and she got into politics later. I just think that experience would be vital for her as COS, similar to Leo's military service. I also think a professional history like that would also commmand respect from strangers.

For Deputy Chief of Staff I'm (perhaps predictably) going with Eddie. I was toying with the idea of it being Chim but you'll see why i didn't got there when i explain his role. But yeah, Eddie's perfect for this one. Both he and Josh are dramatic about everything, they both have well-meaning hearts that sometimes results in them doing or saying stupid shit, they have deepseated issues that cause them to push people away. Also, need i say it? SHOOTING ARC! This also (again predictably i fear) allows for the EPIC ROMANCE of Josh and Donna to be mapped onto Buddie.

Which brings me of course to Buck. He's gotta be Donna. They've got the shared history of failed relationships with some not great people (but remain hopeless romantics anyway), Buck flitting from job to job and Donna not having much work experience go hand on hand too. Also they're both very capable and intelligent but hide it/don't realise that fully. I like to think that Maddie qas the one to get him his job amd Eddie was just a bit too scared to question her.

Now Maddie. This might be an unpopular decision because on the surface they are nothing alike, but I'm putting Maddie in Toby's spot. Not only does she suit Director of Communications perfectly – Maddie is the fucking QUEEN of coomunication (season 5 notwithstanding lol) but she and Toby share a lot of their values. Sure, Toby's a miserable, pessimistic asshole about it, but they both believe in a very black and white definition right and wrong. They are both loyal to a fault (even Toby's treason was an act of loyalty you can fight me on this but you will LOSE) and do everything they can to protect the people they love. Also i just love them both so much i want to fuse them into one because it makes me feel like a mad scientist in a lab trying to create the perfect character out of goo and slime and glitter.

Anyway! For Maddie's second, I'm really not sure. I was thinking maybe Linda or Josh but neither fit particularly well to me. Idk, let me know what you guys think.

Okay. Chim. Think how perfect he'd be as Press Sec. Please. That man is BORN to be on camera. He's charismatic and friendly and relatable, he comes across as approachable but fr who would cross him if he put his foot down? No one! Also. I IMPLORE you to please imagine him doing the Jackal. It was so hard to figure out who i'd trust to take up the mantel of CJ "baddest bitch around" Cregg because i love her so much but when i started to consider Chimney it felt obvious 😅 i also just think he'd love to have the opportunity to evicerate an asshole on live television, and he DESERVES that opportunity too. And if you were wondering: Yes I DO ship CJ and Toby. Hence Madney being their counterparts.

Now for my boy Charlie!!! It of course HAS to be Ravi!! Those boys are the sweetest loveliest boys on the planet! They pair up so well! I also have a headcanon that, similar to Charlie, Ravi has younger siblings he's always had to take care of because their mum died and their dad worked too much. So. Yeah. Also lowkey May x Ravi nation where are you please accept me into your ranks.

Anyway, i hope this is acceotable to everyone who was interested. I might write something in this AU one day but if you have ever interacted with me before you should know not to hold your breath lmao

Tagging @pangrams-n-palindromes from my other post so they see this, I hope that's okay!

[atlasscrumpit]

Dark Tony Stark

Tony is bored so he starts doing experiments on humans secretly. He always kidnaps people with body problems. One day he kidnaps the reader (the reader had just had an accident and lost her voice). He fixes her vocal cords. During his experiment on her he falls in love with her and wants her for himself. He keeps her in his bedroom. His experiment on her worked (not perfect but it does work. She can talk but has a very robotic voice).

The Lonely Scientist

Tony entered the hospital and walked around the room, it was quiet and everyone was practically asleep.

He walked up to your bed and read your file.

"Lost your voice, huh? No family, no friends... Perfect." He whispered looking at you sleeping peacefully.

"You poor thing... You're so young." He whispered as he ran his hand through your hair.

"I don't think anyone will miss you anyway, sweetheart."

--

Tony looked down at your pale skin as he performed surgery on you.

After all the Avengers had left Tony he went...slightly, just a little bit insane.

"If this works you'll be very thankful... And if it doesn't work, something tells me you'll be thankful to be dead anyway." He muttered to himself as he continued the surgery.

--

You began to wake up, your throat hurting, all you wanted to do was scream in pain but you couldn't.

Suddenly a loud ringing noise began and you quickly blocked your ears.

Tony rushed forward and turned off a device that was attached to your neck.

"Woah, easy there." He said as he gently ran his hand through your hair.

You tried to speak but nothing came out as you looked at him in fear, he couldn't imagine how confusing this was for you.

Not only did you have no voice but Tony Stark was in front of you.

"Don't try to speak just yet, you were in a bad accident. You didn't have anyone in the hospital, no family, no friends, no partner." He said as he continued to play with you hair.

You began to cry as he sat down beside your bed.

"I know it's hard, but that's why I took you. Watch." He said before turning the device back on.

"Now, try to talk." He said as you stared at him.

"How?" You said in a robotic voice as your eyes widened.

Tony looked at you with excitement.

"Yes! Yes, perfect!" He shouted as you stared at him in shock.

"What the hell did you do to me!?" You shouted as his smile faded.

"I fixed you!" He shouted back, standing up causing the chair to fall back and create a loud sound.

You flinched and closed your eyes.

"I am dozing everyone, and no one is ever thankful!" He screamed as you opened your eyes and looked around, you saw a hand hanging out from a sheet.

"What the hell have you been doing?" You asked, if your voice wasn't a robot it would've been laced with fear.

"They don't have families, I gave them a chance." He said as your eyes widened.

"You're killing people!" You shouted as he reached down and gripped your arm roughly.

"I am saving them!" He screamed in your face as you stared at him in fear.

He slowly let go of your shoulder before he reached up and held your face.

"You're the only one I've succeeded with. I know it seems cruel... But, I've given your voice back." He said, you could practically see the madness in his eyes.

"I want to go home." You said as he sighed.

"No... No, I don't want you to go. It's just me here, you can stay, alright? There's so many rooms and I have so much money, I can just spoil you, okay? What, you'd rather go back to your studio apartment and be all alone?" He asked as you just continued to stare at him.

"No..." You muttered in response, making him smile softly.

"Good... Good, perfect. You can stay here, you'll have everything you'll ever need." He said playing with your hair.

You weren't sure this was the best idea but...it was either live alone in a shitty apartment after having experiments done on you, or live with a rich psychopath.

Easy choice.

[ratmanzhq]

I just found your steam siblings Au and I am in love with it ! Please forgive me for the many questions I have…

1. Would they sometimes use their other element unintentionally? For example, when Kai gets mad (if Jay flirts with his sister) the water pipes break

2. In Season 4 during the tournament of elements, would Chen only require one of the twins to steal both elements ?

I can imagine that the Ninja would try to keep that a secret but Skylor would figure it out while copying Kai‘s powers

3. Will the twins one day be able to use both powers at the same time ?

4. Season 5, will Nya create this big wave like she did in the final episode of that season or will Kai save everyone (or perhaps they do it together) ?

5.When Kai loses his fire, will that also lead to him losing his and Nyas water power ? And how will that arc with Aspheera affect them both

6. Will Kai be afraid of the ocean until he becomes one with the sea ? It feels like a better conclusion of his story with his fear of the sea ? Imagine he was always afraid of it because it has always called for him. He didn’t know what he was hearing or feeling but it scared him, until he under his destiny 👀 ( Am I thinking to mich about it ?!)

If you have read through them all, thanks for that ! I love your art and the au is great. Have a nice day ✌️

Oh man oh man oh man

I'm late, buuut

I like the idea, but in the show, they have to concentrate on using their powers and don't really have accidents like that(not that I remember). But in this AU, it would be funny as hell. Like neither can cook because the water evaporites, pans too hot and burn everything and so on. Only after they master their elements can they cook.

Maybe? That or he has like half of each power and needs both of them to have full fire and water, yknow. Chen would go mad scientist on them.

Well, they would be OP if they had both powers, so maybe not. The drama and steaks would be lowered, but in certain settings, they might. Or they only can use both powers at the same time together?

That whole plot in the season would be sooo different. But I like the idea they do it together as a ☆*Family Bonging*☆ moment.

Depending on if they both have the power or they have one power that zip zap between them like tennis. But I feel like they both have the powers, they can't just use it? So Nay would have fire when Aspirah takes Kais fire and the switch their roles (Kai is water ninja/Nya is fire ninja).

I loooove the idea Kai fears the ocean and then becomes the ocean. Like, it validates his fear?? Kinda?? He loses everything when he's the ocean, even if he did it to protect his Family. But he also accepts his destiny and isn't afraid of the ocean anymore? The drama. The angst. Love it. But hearing the ocean his whole life. Now that's an idea. Like fire powers are from Spijitsu mater Uno and water is from the big ass snake. And maybe that affects them! Fire and water in them in constant conflict Ugh. Love it

Thanx my fellow rat for the qustion