#Is violence in this story? kinda-

[top-doumaxbottom-koku-bc-i-can]

Midnight ice ~ top!Douma x BottomHashira!Kokushibo ~

~ Douma finds himself alone with hashira Kokushibo(Michikatsu) his lust for the pillar taking over him causing him to play with his prey ~

~ Start ~

Michikatsu found himself trapped in upper two Douma's temple for his eternal paradise cult annoyed he had been found and was now laying there typically most would be dead by now... But... There was something in Douma's eyes as he looked at the pillar of moon

And a few minutes later Douma entered the room and here Michikatsu was in between the uppermoon twos thighs looking up at him, Douma's length violating his mouth as he groaned the warmth was perfect as Michikatsu whimpered when Douma grabbed his hair and forcefully rocked the hashiras head back and forth on his member at some points triggering his gag reflex

" such a good boy~ " Douma purred as Michikatsu didn't try to escape fearing it would mean death, Douma continued to praise the hashira as he pulled on his hair making the pillar let out a muffled whimper, Douma giggled sadisticilly " if you keep this up ill let you go when I'm done with you~ " he purred again into michikatsu's ear as he bucked his hips triggering the hashiras gag reflex once again

A few minutes later which felt like hours to Michikatsu the uppermoon came into the pillars mouth letting out a pleasured groan as Michikatsu swallowed by reflex " like I said before your doing such a good job my little hashira~ " Douma purred once again praising the pillar, michikatsu huffed as Douma pulled out of his mouth letting the pillar take a breather

~ Time skip {bc I'm lazy and have no motivation} ~

As Michikatsu was thrown onto Douma's futon then got pinned he slowly pulled off the pillars pants and boxers grinning " beg for it my little pillar~ " Douma spoke " no. " Michikatsu growled " I guess you don't want to leave then?, Perhaps I'll just keep you~ " He purred pulling the pillars hair again then tied Michikatsu's hands behind his back with a nearby rope " fine... " Michikatsu growled " Please~ fvck me senseless~ " he said sarcastically then felt Douma grab his hips the demons blue nails digging into his waist making him bleed as he hovered over Michikatsu then bit his neck lapping at the blood " I guess that will have to work~ even if it was said sarcastically ~ " Douma whispered into the hashiras ear then bit down on it putting three fingers into Michikatsu's mouth

A few minutes later Douma was thrusting a finger into the pillars entrance, Michikatsu moaned in pleasure even though it was wrong he couldn't help it, he gasped when Douma added two more fingers at the same time then whimpered, Douma stretched his hole open as the pillar let out a loud groan moving back onto Douma's three fingers, Douma giggled " now now, my little pillar~ be patient~ " he took out his fingers then maneuvered his length behind Michikatsu's entrance then thrusted into him making michikatsu groan loudly as he made his full length ram into michikatsu all at once, pinning the pillars thighs onto the floor

~ another Time skip to a few minutes (bc yes) ~

As Douma thrusted into the hashira harshly he let out groans, the pillar letting out moans tears of both pleasure and pain visible on his rather beautiful face, Douma hit a certain spot making the other let out a inaudible scream " looks like I found your spot~ " he giggled, Michikatsu wasn't sure what had just happened but Douma repeatedly hit that spot abusing it harshly Michikatsu came quickly Douma soon after him, Michikatsu huffed as Douma pulled out

Douma noticed the hashiras lavender eyes shutting then opening as he soon fell asleep Douma put a blanket over the moon pillar and himself cuddling with the taller man

~ Hello thanks for reading my first post I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed making this ~

[theorahsart]

Incorruptible pt 20

Camille paints a picture of the desperate times in Paris.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Ichiro: Ahh, Mayonaka.. look who it is! [Wyatt braced himself as Mayo bounded toward him, clearly intent on rubbing his blasted fur all over his jeans] Ichiro: You could’ve told me you were leaving in person. Wyatt: I was in a hurry. Ichiro: That’s beside the point. Wyatt: He would’ve been fine without you if you had plans… Ichiro: [tuts] Impatience. [Wyatt shrugged loosely, there wasn’t much point in his trying to deny it] Ichiro: So, was she okay? Wyatt: I don’t know, I didn’t see her-.. I changed my mind, anyway. Ichiro: Oh? Wyatt: Yeah.. you were right, I should leave her be. [Ichiro grinned, far more amused than Wyatt could stand] Wyatt: Yeah, yeah, everyone else knows best and Kaito’s always wrong-.. blah, blah, blah. Ichiro: [chuckles] I left your post in the kitchen, don’t throw it out!

[sonknuxadow]

its funny that people always talk about shadow having a gun and shadow is known as The Guy With The Gun when tails uses guns way more often and also the idea of tails using guns is objectively funnier than the idea of shadow using guns

[2hoothoots]

Revisiting P2 since the docu epilogue dropped and your AMV (<3) popped up as a sign for me to ask something that hopefully you haven't already spoken about years ago: What did you think of the in-game psych explanation for Maligula, that she's the primitive savage part of the mind? P2 is a weird mix of sketchy Freud/Jung concepts that Tim likes meshed with modern psych, and Maligula's deal seems like something they probably wrote a lot of different versions of but never quite solved elegantly

yeah, i think you totally hit the nail on the head - it's always felt like one of the parts of the story that they couldn't quite give enough polish to before they had to finalize it and move on with development. like - i went to go get my artbook to see if it had any insight into the writing process, and did you know that Nona and Maligula being the same person was apparently added way later in development? that's wild! i didn't know that until literally right now! i may or may not have skipped straight to my favourite characters when my artbook arrived and then put it on my shelf without reading the whole thing

ANYWAY, retrospectively i think it being a twist that was added later actually makes a lot of sense in the context of everything you mentioned. the Maligula problem, to me, is the fact that they're trying to juggle a bunch of different things that she has to be in the story. there's Maligula, the ruthless big bad, and Nona, the beloved grandma, and if you suddenly have to also make them both the same person... well, it ends up being kind of a thorny writing problem to make that work, haha.

here's some art i made so this isn't just a wall of text, rest of the answer under the cut

i think one thing they could have done when they needed to rehabilitate a mass-murderer into a lovable old lady was pull back on either end of the spectrum. make your villain softer and more sympathetic, or give grandma a mean streak like she's one bad day away from a tragedy at the crochet club. and to give the story credit, i'm really glad they didn't. Nona is relentlessly sweet and endearing - and that's great! she needs to be in order to make the audience care about her, otherwise the emotional beats are never going to land. likewise, Maligula is a great villain, she's vicious and ruthless and at the culmination of her arc we see she simply does not give a shit about murdering hundreds of people. i love that for her, honestly, you go girl

but then, like - how do you connect the dots? how do you frame grandma having a violently murderous streak in a way that doesn't make the ending of "but she's over it now" feel kinda weird and hollow? and how do you do that while also being sympathetic to the game's themes around mental health? Maligula's informed by the traumatic things that happened to Lucrecia during the war, but she can't just be a manifestation of trauma, because the moral of the story being that trauma makes you a mass-murderer (until you beat up your trauma and shove it in a giant pit) would feel... really tonally dissonant!

so i think you're totally right that the sprinkling of pop-psych concepts we get ends up feeling a little bit like an awkward band-aid. Maligula's story is about how the horrors of war can shape you into a terrible person, who does terrible things - ...but there's also, like, special circumstances, so it doesn't feel weird that she goes back to being Raz's sweet grandma afterwards. special psychic circumstances! she's not just any war criminal, she's the fight or flight response gone out of control!

which - i dunno, i think that line in particular always stood out to me, because that's not really what the fight or flight (or freeze or fawn) response is, right? it's a temporary boost of adrenaline to the system to rev you up for getting out of a dangerous situation. an overactive fight or flight response is called chronic stress and anxiety. i know the games are pop-psych and not actual science, but it always stood out to me as a little awkward.

if it were me in the writer's seat - with the benefit of all the time in the world to workshop it, and no looming deadlines, and the hindsight of having a full completed game in front of me to think about - i might have tried to frame it around connection. i think you could swing the lens to instead focus on how violence, stress, trauma etc., make it harder to understand and empathise with the people around you. the tragedy of Lucrecia's story is that she came home to try and help her countrymen, the people she cared so dearly about. but the more time passed, the less she cared, the less she was able to see them as people. after Marona's death, the Maligula that remains is one who's unable to even care about killing her own sister. the alternative is too raw, too painful - instead, she sheds her last vestiges of remorse, and throws herself into the easy relief of violence. (we see this again, when Nona "awakens" as Maligula - when confronted with the baggage of her past, she chooses to wash it all away with force, unable and unwilling to care about the people she used to call friends.)

and i think shifting the focus like that ties it in thematically, too. a big theme (of both games, but especially the sequel) is how important connection is, how being able to understand and reach out to and rely on other people is a lifeline during hard times. PN2 touches on how there aren't really "good people" and "bad people" - everyone has the capacity to do wonderful or terrible things, and i think Raz's line to Maligula about how "everybody's got something like you" works. Lucrecia was never a monster, no matter how everyone tried to pretend she was. she was just a person, the same as everyone else - and just like everyone else, she could be pushed to extremes under the right circumstances. it just feels kind of odd when the implicit context is "everybody's got a mass-murderer hidden in the primal recesses of their brain", hahaha.

but like, again, that's the privilege of hindsight, right? i've definitely also been on the other side of the creative process, stuck with something i suddenly need to make work in a story and having to come up with a solution that feels like a band-aid. sometimes you just gotta call it good enough, and move on. and i think the game is overall much stronger for having Nona and Maligula be the same person - it plays into the wider themes, it sets up some great emotional beats, and i think it's overall well-executed, even if there are one or two hiccups in the writing.

anyway, great ask! thank you for the invitation to ramble, this is something that stuck out to me on my first playthrough of the game and it was fun to sit down and get my thoughts in order

[artaintfartwarriors]

Bumble from dotc/dawn of the clan. Yes that female kittypet cat who gets wronged by tom, graywing, turtletail, clearsky, almost everyone (except the innocent ones like misty, etc).

Ik who she is! Poor lady :(

[willedeservesbetter]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Young Royals (TV 2021) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Simon Eriksson/Wilhelm Additional Tags: Inspired by Interview With the Vampire, but it does not take place in the world of IWTV, please read the archive warnings, they all apply, Vampires, Dark fic, i am repeating myself: this is a dark fic, Major character death - Freeform, but not really, this is the beginning of a twisted love story Series: Part 1 of They Own the Night (The Young Royals Vampire Chronicles ) Summary:

The boy before him is close to death, Wilhelm begrudgingly notices. The pulse slowed down quite a while ago, the heart is beating weakly, and the skin is white despite the usually darker complexion.

Well, being drained of your blood for hours and hours and hours certainly leaves a mark, Wilhelm thinks smugly, and it is all because of him. What a shame it is the boy must die soon and cannot be kept around like a picnic basket, always ready and full and promising the best flavors of his blood.

This will be a night he will remember for a long time.

- or -

Wilhelm is a very powerful and old vampire who is having a great night with his newest victim. Simon disagrees. Kind of.

[azazel-with-lots-of-time]

I went on vacation with my grandma and my brother... I ordered a plushie online before going... it arrived before I came back... my dad had tons of free time, lol

He abused my poor plushie SO much during two and a half days... he sent me ONE PICTURE PER DAY!!!

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Màgòdiz

post-apocalyptic dystopia set in a dying future world where people are subjugated and controlled by a spiritual power

a group of 6 Indigenous two spirit & queer people traveling across the land to save one of their own who’s been kidnapped & attempting to free their people from subjugation

the last storyteller who keeps stories on her skin on the run with her lover, a healer and their firekeeper partner, a rebel who takes care of orphan children in the city and the brainwashed enforcer xe captures & eventually deprograms

navigating relationships and family & cultural history

[strangelittlestories]

The doorbell rang at 3am and Ko could smell blood and hurt out in the hallway. Ze was awake, of course. Ze debated opening it; the scent of *pain* was overwhelming, making it hard to recognise who the blood belonged to. Then ze heard Ella’s voice, quiet and raspy.

Ella fell through the opening door and into Ko’s arms, before ze could even finish inviting her in.

Ko did a small freakout. Ella wavered on the edge of passing out. It took a few minutes for both of them to get it together. (To her credit, Ella - even just the right side of knocked out - managed to re-teach Ko how to take long, deep breaths.)

Ko held a cold steak to Ella’s face. It made zem think the two of them were in an old movie, but it was all ze had in the fridge.

Ella looked up at Ko. One of her eyes was swollen shut, a map drawn in livid red and purple and leading to only bad places. But the other eye was as wide and dark as ever - deep as a drowning pool.

“Thank you, K.” She said, softly, through sore lips.

Ko sighed. Something inside was clawing at zem - like when you hear a song that hits you so hard you can only bawl along, feral-raw and screaming. Ze put a lid on it.

“This was dangerous, Ella.”

“I’ve made it through worse.” Ella tried to wink and winced.

“I mean … it was dangerous to come here.” Ko gestured to the mass of bruises and scrapes. “Like this.”

“I know, but I didn’t have-” Ella closed that fathom-deep eye and took a faltering breath. “I tried to be careful. I cleaned all the blood off, first.”

“You know what bruises are, right?”

“It’s … it’s the body healing. Right?” Ella’s brow wrinkled over her closed eyes. “Either that or it’s like fruit.”

“Fruit?”

“Oh, you know.” Ella opened her eyes again. “A sign that you’re ripe.”

Ko froze stock still for a moment. Ze gulped a couple of times; zir throat felt very dry. At the sight of her friend suddenly turned statue, Ella cocked her head (and something in her neck cracked a little). Ko gulped again. Ella tapped zem gently on the forehead as if to say ‘Hey, anybody in there?’.

“Sorry.” Ko shook zir head and a shiver followed all the way down zir body. “I had a, uh, *reaction* to that.”

“You sure did.”

“So, like,” Ko tried to bury whatever they were feeling in data, “Bruises are when your body gets damaged in a way that busts open your blood vessels but doesn’t give the blood anywhere to escape to. So it just kinda sloshes in there."

“Oh.” Said Ella, turned thoughtful. “So it’s not fruit. It’s make-up.”

“Sorry?”

“Like putting on blush.” Ella touched Ko’s cheek gently. “It’s kinda like you’re saying - gosh, look at me, look at all this *loose blood* in here. Gosh - yes. What a thing to surprise you with.”

“I’m, uh.” Ko put Ella down on the sofa, a little too quickly. “I’m gonna get you another steak.”

“Hurry back.” Said Ella, settling her bruised limbs painfully into the cushions.

[roys-our-boy]

His sprite is so CUTE. Getian loml

[trensu]

Okay, as much as I love vampire!Eddie AUs (and I do; I love them) I think it's time to mix it up a bit.

Siren!Eddie needs to make an appearance.

Eddie's dad used to be a fisherman and he caught himself a siren. He was an awful person so when he found out what exactly it was he caught, he took the siren and traveled as far from any large body of water as he could.

She was lucky in that, eventually, she was able to escape and return to her home-waters but not before she had to make the dreadful man a son. A son that was left behind because there was a risk that he was too much Land and not enough Sea. She couldn't risk being tied to Land at all. Not after everything she went through; she never wanted to touch Land again.

But she made sure to teach her son, her little boy Eddie, how to hide. She gave him rules to keep him safe once she was gone.

Never go in the water, Eddie. Yes I know it whispers to you, but you can never go in the water okay? Bad things will happen to you if you go in the water.

She expected this; that he'd hear the Call. This was something she needed to tear out of him as soon as possible. It would hurt less that way; it would be easier to ignore the Call if he never submerged in natural water. She took them to the lake. They sat on the shore. She would smack him every time he edged too close to the water. The first few visits involved a lot of hitting.

She would bundle him into her arms, and kiss his head, and murmur consolation afterwards when he was in tears and hiccuping from the need to go in the water. Eventually, he learned to flinch whenever water lapped too close to him.

I know you love music but you can never sing for an audience. No one must ever hear your voice like that. I don't care how much you like it, Eddie, you will listen to me. Bad things will happen if you sing for others.

She knew the urge to sing would run through his veins. It was as natural as speaking was to humans. Natural, however, did not mean vital; it did not mean necessary. All it really meant was risk. Any time she caught him so much as humming in public she'd pinch his ear until his hum turned to a whine of pain. She'd do it even when his hum was audible only to sirens ears. He didn't always notice when he did that but he learned to pay attention and stop himself.

She rewarded him sometimes when he was especially restrained. She allowed him to sing only when mama sings with him. When she was free in the waves, one of the few memories of Land she permitted herself to keep was the handful of times she and Eddie found themselves a lonely, quiet place where they could sing along to a battered old radio together.

Don't go near anyone who is bleeding. Do you hear me? Never get near human blood. Oh, and don't eat fish.

The teeth were a surprise. Her baby was born as toothless as a human. His teeth later sprouted as dull as human teeth. But then her captor hit her on a day that she was already on a knife's edge and Eddie was squirming and grumbling in her arms. She raked her claws across the man's face and as he screamed at her, her little Eddie gnawed at her bloodied claws with little gurgling growls, his small teeth pricked at her fingertips, sharp as any of her kind. It took a while for her boy's teeth to blunt again. The only other time his teeth sharpened was when the man brought home cheap, stinking sushi. To mock her, probably, as if such food could compare to the relish of tearing her teeth through the belly of a writhing living fish.

She did not punish Eddie for this rule. She could not bring herself to punish him for his hunger. No one can help their hunger. She lied instead. Told him he would sicken and die if he ate fish or touched another human's blood.

--

Eddie loved his mama. He cried for ages and ages when she disappeared. Mostly because he missed her. Partly because with her gone, he'd never be allowed to sing again.

As Eddie grew older, he learned to hate his father. His mother had been violent with him on occasion but her violence felt different. When his father hit him, something in Eddie thrashed in indignation that someone like his father would dare strike him. But that thrashing thing in him was the same thing that urged him to the water, that urged him to sing, that craved to slurp up the flickering fish he'd seen during the school field trip to the aquarium. The thrashing thing that wanted to bite and tear into the man that hurt him was the same thing that wanted to do all the things his mama taught him not to do because bad things would happen if he did.

So he tied down the thrashing thing in him because his mama would have wanted him to, he thought. Instead he did what his father told him to do; learned some of the things his father wanted him to; did his best not to incur his anger. It worked for a few years. But there came a day when the thrashing thing escaped for just a moment, a scant few seconds, and drew his father's blood. The smell of it made the thrashing thing in Eddie so very hungry. He learned the thrashing thing was also a starved thing, and it terrified Eddie.

Eddie learned young to run when scared.

So he ran. He ran to the man that his father ranted about; the man his father screamed was the reason his whore of a mother was gone. The man his father had called a traitor of a brother.

--

Wayne opened the door to his trailer one stormy evening to find a boy, barely in double digits, with sharpened teeth and reddened claws. The boy shivered in rain, though Wayne knew immediately that it was not from the cold or wet. He looked into the boy's wide panicked eyes, dark as his mother’s had been.

"Unc-," the boy hiccuped in distress. "Uncle Wayne? 'm Eddie. Y-you knew my mama? You h-helped her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, kid," Wayne said softly, taking in Eddie's dripping hair and bare feet. His toes were pale but not blue as they should be with how cold the rain was in the fall. "I helped her once. Should've helped her sooner. But I worked up the nerve eventually."

"Could you," Eddie's voice cracked. "Could you help me, too?"

"Yeah," Wayne said around a lump in his throat. "Yeah, Eddie, I'll help ya." He clears his throat. "Come in out of the rain. I need to ask you some questions so I can help you."

--

Eddie told Uncle Wayne about his mama's rules. He told Uncle Wayne about the thrashing starved thing that lived in him. He told him how he clawed his father and the thing wanted to devour him. He told him how it scared him so much he ran without looking back.

Uncle Wayne said that the rules his mama gave him were very important but that maybe it made the thrashing thing worse. He told Eddie that they should find ways to keep it calm without breaking his mama's rules. Eddie was not allowed to go into lakes or rivers or ponds but once in a while Eddie could take a bath in the old stained tub Uncle Wayne had in the trailer. It's not exactly what the thrashing thing wants, but when Eddie lays at the bottom of the full tub, it gets quiet for a while. 

(Wayne was relieved to see that even submerged in the bathtub, Eddie still looked human. He was relieved that Eddie didn’t seem to notice that he was able to stay under the water and not worry about being able to breathe).

Eddie must never sing. Ever. But Uncle Wayne thought music in general was good. He gave Eddie his old acoustic guitar. Eddie learned the few chords Uncle Wayne knew, and learned more from secondhand music books his uncle gave him. He had Uncle Wayne's permission to play the guitar whenever the urge to sing felt overwhelming. It wasn’t the same, but it still helped soothe the thrashing thing.

(Wayne was relieved to find that the one time Eddie slipped up, his voice didn’t affect him the way he dreaded it would. Blood recognizes blood, he remembered Eddie’s mother saying. The song still fogged his mind and that by itself scared Eddie enough that he never sang in front of Wayne again. Wayne doesn’t think Eddie fully understood what happened other than it was something bad that came from his singing, just as his mother had told him.)

Uncle Wayne said there’s no way around Mama’s last rule. Eddie must avoid blood and fish. However, Uncle Wayne added an excessive amount of red meat to Eddie’s diet. There was always plenty of pork and beef for Eddie to eat. The thrashing thing in Eddie was always full, even if it never felt quite satisfied.

It wasn’t until he was older that Eddie discovered something that makes the thrashing thing…sleep? Sleep. If only for a little while; just long enough for Eddie to get his head straight.

“Weed?” Uncle Wayne said around a cigarette. “What’s wrong with a good old fashioned cigarette?”

Eddie breathed out a plume of smoke. “Tastes bad.”

Uncle Wayne scoffed. “And marijuana doesn’t?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. It’s different. It feels…like I'm grounded?”

“Thought the goal was to get high,” Uncle Wayne snorted in amusement.

Eddie giggled. “No, yeah. ‘M not saying it right. It feels like…it sounds stupid. Doesn’t make sense. But it feels like Land.”

Uncle Wayne sombered. “That makes perfect sense,” he said after a long pause.

“...is this a mom thing?” At Uncle Wayne’s nod, Eddie frowned. “Are you ever gonna tell me anything about her? I don’t even know her name.”

“Neither do I,” Uncle Wayne said. “Your father called her Sarah. She hated it but she never told either of us her name. Said we’d never be able to pronounce it with our weak tongues.”

–

It wasn’t a lie when Wayne told his boy that he doesn’t know much about his mother. He doesn’t know anything about her, really, but he suspected quite a bit. 

His brother brought her home after a fishing trip. She was…strange. Her eyes seemed too big and fathomless for her pale face. Her body moved as if it was expecting to meet resistance with every motion. When she spoke, her words seemed almost lyrical. 

His brother would beat her terribly if she strayed too close to singing. The fury in her eyes after each beating made icy fear bloom in Wayne’s chest, and to this day he doesn’t understand how his brother never seemed to feel it; the fear of a prey animal that knew the only thing keeping the predator from ripping into them was a set of bars that seemed too narrow to last.

Wayne doesn’t know anything about Eddie’s mother except that his brother named her Sarah and once, during a drunken rant, called her a siren. But sirens were a fisherman’s fairy tale. They weren’t real. Eddie had imagination enough without Wayne filling it with his brother’s tall tales.

–

Eddie hissed as Uncle Wayne dabbed antiseptic on the cut across his cheekbone. The thrashing thing in him echoed the hiss in fury. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the fury from bleeding into the rest of him.

“I could’ve beaten them, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie snarls. “I know I could’ve. Why can’t I hit back?”

“...do you remember the last time you hit someone?”

Eddie scrunched his face. “Not really. Was that when I ran away from Dad? I was, like, ten. I can’t remember stuff that far back.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Uncle Wayne huffed, and placed some gauze on the cut. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t risk touching someone’s blood. Mama’s rules, remember?”

Eddie growled. The thrashing thing in him roiled. “I hate those stupid rules. I hate them.”

“I know you do,” Uncle Wayne sighed. “But I’m proud of you for following them.” He ruffled Eddie’s hair and Eddie felt the fury start to fade. “Why don’t you go practice on your new guitar for a while?”

Eddie nodded and hopped off the stool, relenting. 

“Love you, kid,” Uncle Wayne calls as Eddie closed his bedroom door.

“Love you too, old man.”

–

Eddie had years of experience controlling the thrashing thing and it had been much easier to keep it calm once he joined a band as the lead guitarist. He made time to take long baths whenever he started to feel agitated with life. He still ate a hellish amount of red meat.

Eddie could almost forget the thrashing thing existed most of the time. Things were good.

Until he met Steve Harrington and his veins were almost violently flooded with wantwantwant and the thrashing thing screamed at him to open up and sing, sing, bring him near, SING. 

His mouth was already dropping open and a sound was clawing to escape his throat. In the panic that followed the wave of covetous desire, Eddie sunk his teeth into his own forearm to stave off the sudden song pooling in his mouth. He  fled the store and ran in to the abandoned alley two blocks away. 

Only then did he unhook his teeth, which felt so odd in his mouth, from where he bit into his arm. He panted around the blood dripping from his lips. “What the fuck. What the fuck was that?”

[live-at-fortune-city]

Look through my past and you'll see All the lies I've lied And why I'm justified

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

It's funny when someone responds to you claiming you're just repeating their point, meanwhile they missed the part where I talked about them failing to grasp that being upset about the Nazi association to Amestris while saying all fascism is bad and that the Nazi association means people have "misunderstood" the moral of fma and thus "proves Arakawa's" point is attributing ignorance to the critics while falsely claiming Arakawa's work as consistently anti-military (it absolutely isn't).

But I shouldn't be surprised.

[akkivee]

More Kuko ramblings because adhd, but i was driving and listening to Closer, which made me think about HitoJaku, and then Hitoyas slightly retconned backstory, and then chapter 4 of the dhbat manga, and then about Kuko and Sawamura parallels. But something we haven't seen touched on in a while is Kuko's latent anger issues, violence streak, and the sadism both of those issues inspire.

you actually beat me to talking about this thought myself lmao i’ve been planning on a creepy kuukou ‘month’ for october where i just draw kuukou with his darker aspects when i can and his viciousness was part of the plans lmao. like i still don’t how much of sougyaran bam💥 i should be taking literally or anything at all lmao, but like combined with sawamura’s story and the rocky vibes sougyaran bam 💥 has, i was going to put it out there that maaaaaaybe kuukou might be implying a body count in his chorus

and like i still can’t get over the shock on kuukou’s face when the bully tried to kill himself and kuukou intending to take the full blame for it all in that very chapter like idk??? i feel like there is a sort of violence that shaped him and he’s been fighting against with varying degrees of success lol, but especially in those early chapters where he’s still wearing that dragon sukajan

but it’d be great if that was the underlying issue in the upcoming drama track!!!! 🙏🙏🙏

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

god i love ghost quartet but it really is kind of a downer once you know what's going on sdlkfjdsklj like pearl and rose never come to this kind of "meeting" moment where they both know what's going on and can "talk it out". they don't close the cycle of violence it just loops back again in wind / rain. and (depending on ur interpretation of whether the story loops again or not) the only ~happily ever after / transcendent moment is between rose and the man/the astronomer. which idk it never sits right with me.