#So If You Find It It's Because You Either Already Followed Me Or You SOUGHT IT OUT

[xaykwolf]

It baffles me that people really take "I prefer Yas.ha to be buff/have black streaks in her hair" to mean "Ashley DOESN'T know her character and her interpretation is NOT valid" like... y'all... BREATHE. Literally no one is saying that. Many of us have good reasons not to like specific choices in Yas.ha's new character art, but we all recognize that we are both not in control of Ashley's decisions nor the final arbiter of what Yas.ha looks like.

To the people who think the black streaks are indicative of her trauma, and that's why it's GOOD that they're gone, I ask you to think for a moment why you believe markers of trauma do/should go away completely. I'm not even arguing at this point that that's what Ashley was intending, but that seems to be a common sentiment in the fandom. That Yas.ha's hair is an indicator of healing. (Whereas I'd always figured her smiling, talking, and asserting herself more often were already good enough indicators. But what do I know, with decades of my own trauma and years of psychological training? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Also...I feel it needs to be said aloud: biology would suggest that, in a more stable, safe, and nutrient-consistent environment with access to bodybuilding equipment, Yas.ha's muscles would GROW from what they were when she was on the run, swordfighting to survive and without a consistent source a nutrient-rich foods (with the exception of her life with the Nein after Obann, with Caddy to make meals). Again, the art is what the art is. Most of us who like her buff...well I think it's kinda obvious why that is. Any dissatisfaction I've seen has also only been expressed with personal posts, none of which were designed to get back to Ashley or the character art artist. So like...let us be thirsty and move on.

[vxnuslogy]

— empty souls do not breathe, they wait.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: ajaw has always thought that after kinich's death, all will eventually bow to him as their new king. what he didn't expect was to grapple with his host's loneliness and find the reason why he sought your presence during nights that grow too cold.

— warnings: slight angst if you squint

— author's note: ajaw holds a very special place in my heart so deserves to be the main character of this fic. and after almost 24 hours of having no electricity, it'll finally leave the basement. this is heavily inspired by this comic on twt so please go give it a read! art credits to @.n249 on twt. | 2.5k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @moineauz @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!

there was something wrong with kinich. mavuika’s eyes scanned over the wounds on the poor boy’s body and the blood dripping from his forehead. long gone was his usual bandana and golden rimmed eyes were now tainted with a strange red. 

this man is not kinich.

“so kinich has fallen, too,” her voice sullen, eyes barely able to look at the husk of one of her heroes. though her stance is not tense, it certainly wasn’t relaxed either. “kinich” followed her movements carefully—the way her hands twitched towards her claymore, her eyes he could not read, and the unmistakable tone of her voice. the pyro archon was disappointed.

“i, too, would be disappointed if you didn’t notice, archon.” kinich dipped his head low and let out a bone chilling laugh that scratched his throat the wrong way. blood stained glove came to push his hair back as mavuika stares at the eyes that did not belong to the dendro user of the scions of canopy. 

“it was a shame for that brat to die, but oh well,” a twisted grin tugged at his lips as mavuika’s face remained passive. “it is i! the almighty dragon lord, k’uhul ajaw!”

he takes a deep breath before letting his host’s arms fall to his side. “per our agreement, i will stand in and make kinich the greatest hero for all of natlan to see!”

“and would you be satisfied with that?”

ajaw’s gaze hardened as his lips tugged into a deep frown. the pyro archon’s eyes now held a fervor brighter than any hope this entity of chaos has ever seen. was she still hoping that kinich would miraculously survive?

“are you implying that not even celestia is celebrating my return? their gift is now mi–”

“the gift you claim for yourself does not respond to you,” ajaw flinches back, eyes zeroing into the vision of his person as his fists shook in rage. “dreams will die if their master has fallen. there’s more to the contract between the two of you than you think.”

ajaw sees red. teeth snarling into a disgusting scowl as he readied kinich’s weapon—ignoring the way this too did not answer his call for blood. “are you mocking me, archon?”

much to the dragon’s surprise, the woman laughs. she laughs. at him? he’ll never know because he’s already zipping away from the scene. 

“this is merely a trial, a simple waiting game.” 

“why the hell am i using that servant’s party tricks!” ajaw screams as he lands in the far distance. he’s been using kinich’s grapple hook to come to and fro natlan these days as his mind flies back to this boy’s archon and her infuriating claims. “bwah! forget it, i have other things to deal with like–”

“kinich?”

like you.

the person from kinich’s life that he’s persistently pined over for years on end—ajaw even thinks kinich does it unintentionally, the boy was missing a few screws in the emotional department after all.

ajaw doesn’t answer back. he just blankly stares how your face is drained of its color. the way your fist grips at your chest like you're about to rip your heart out and the shaky–afraid–smile you flash him as you come to sit beside him.

you kept your distance—normally you’d sit so close your fingers would slightly entangle with kinich’s. ajaw observes you from the corner of his eyes before looking at natlan in the distance. back in his pixelated prison form, he could barely see natlan as a whole, just bits and pieces as he focused his energy to disturb and plan kinich’s untimely death.

“what are you doing here?” 

how strange, ajaw didn’t mean to voice that question out in the open. especially with the way you look at him as if your world had crumbled to dust, leaving no trace of your home to pick up. something tugs at ajaw after your blank answer. the great almighty dragon lords do not feel, they wreak havoc, instill control, so why? why was this heart beating in such a melancholic rhythm?

“let’s go,” he says as he slowly comes to a stand, trying to mimic kinich’s attitude and actions towards you to the best of his abilities. you look at him, tears threatening to spill, yet you still smile and take his outstretched arm. ajaw doesn’t voice how you immediately drop his hand when you stand—you always hold kinich like your final lifeline, so why are you letting go?

ajaw understands, he simply won’t accept this fact.

you loved kinich, not ajaw.

you wanted kinich, but you still treated ajaw with the same treatment.

you treat his wounds with care, apologizing whenever he winces and flinches, pressing soft kisses to the calluses of his hands and his forehead. you let him listen to your beating heart that drummed the same melancholic melody and wipe away at the tears he never acknowledges whenever the figure of kinich’s dismantled body haunts him at night. 

you acted as if you loved him and ajaw can’t live with this anymore.

so he runs away—punishes himself into confinement until you won’t be able to follow him. and then he thinks. sitting silently on a patch of grass as the sun slowly fades into another dreadful night. now that he’s left alone to grapple with all the uncontained emotions kinich himself couldn’t answer, ajaw finds himself at a loss.

“hey kinich,” he whispers to the wind, a bare hand filled with scars and scratches—free from the gloves that didn’t fit him—tug at the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. “have you always been this lonely?”

ajaw hugs his knees, hand grabbing at his hair harshly–this body did not belong to him, he does not deserve your kindness or love. he won’t admit it, but now under the scrutiny or judgment of no one, ajaw comes to finally admit of his stretched jealousy for you and kinich. how come this insolent servant of him had someone who deeply cared about him despite his attitude? someone who was born to accompany him through thick and thin, to infuriate and fret over but still share whatever he or you could share with one another. neither of you left each other, and ajaw wanted that.

will ajaw have to live his life like this? chasing after the shadows of your relationship with kinich until his legs finally gave out? 

“ugh! i hate you kinich!” he screams into the wind as they howl back.

“don’t say that, ajaw,” his world stills and the already chilly breeze turned colder. there you were, under the light of a fading sun with a small smile on your lips. “you’ll hurt kinch’s feelings.”

he scoffs. grip tightening as he buries his head on his arms. “then he can stay dead if he can’t handle some words from me! my servant,” his voice quivers slightly. his breathing shakes and turns shallow as you step towards him. “don’t come near me!”

you take one step, then two, then you’re sprinting to ajaw before he could run away for a second time. you cradle his head to your chest as you let his iron grip bruise your arms and silent tears be soaked in your heart. 

“my kinich would not be offended by me!”

“i know he won’t,” you say in a whisper, hand rubbing circles to his back and ajaw finally comes to understand why kinich always sought you out each night when his past comes to haunt him. you kept his fears at bay with your overwhelming love for him. ajaw wonders if there’s also some love from you reserved for him. 

the following nights, ajaw spends his time in your arms as you tell him stories from your childhood. how kinich had saved you from a safety malfunction when you went bungee jumping, the kinds of flowers you press into your journal, and the many photos from your family in different nations.

“do you not miss them, human?” ajaw asks, another photo from your mother as she stands in front of a quaint flower shop in fontaine. you only smile and tuck away another album under your bed. the sight of ajaw curiously sifting through your photos—from family, friends, and kinich—makes something swell in your chest. it bloats and bloats until you’re sure it can hold all of natlan with ease.

“i do,” you reply, sitting by the edge of your bed and looking at the dates written behind each photo. “but at least they send me things so i know they’re doing well.”

ajaw frowns in contemplation. “will they come home?”

will kinich come home?

you don’t voice out the question that’s floating in ajaw’s mind and just smile. watching the flame from the small lamp on your bedside table flicker, your reflection staring right back at you as you meet ajaw’s gaze. 

“they will, we just wait.” 

ajaw frowns. “waiting means to waste your efforts to hope for a miracle.”

despite his harshness and pessimism, you chuckle. gathering all the stray photos, you put them back neatly in the album. as you make your way to the window to close the window, you turn back to ajaw. “an empty soul does not breathe, it waits. you’re waiting, too, ajaw.”

“i am not waiting for that vermin!” he protests with a huff. you laugh as he falls back on your bed, both hands behind his head as he stares at your bedroom ceilings. a contemplative expression falls on his face as the furrow of his brows from embarrassment finally eases. “is he even still alive?”

you hum as you lay beside him. your eyes gaze at the still blazing vision on his pants and close your eyes. “a person’s vision is their ambition. they die out when it's been fulfilled or when its master passes,” ajaw looks at you with storm clouds in his eyes but you shift in your position and gently close them with your hands. “so long as kinich dreams, he’ll still live. he’s not the type to leave business unfinished.”

tonight ajaw dreams—he hopes that your belief turns out to be true. in the blanket of night he’s grown to be afraid of, he sees you and kinich. but strangely enough, he sees himself in between you two—not as an obstacle, but as a part of your happiness. ajaw finds himself really liking this dream. 

the night kingdom, like its name suggests, is a perpetually cold and dark landscape with only the wayob in front of him casting a faint light. small engravings of his ancient name glows in a light purple as he gazes at his hazy body. surprisingly enough, his bandana still stayed securely on his head. 

“seems like i’m still under the wayob’s protection,” he says to no one in particular as echoes about a flame burning bright eases his worries. “if i’m still here then surely we must have won.”

kinich was about to turn and walk away—to where? he’s not quite sure. as he takes a step after another, the wayob—the original bearer of his ancient name—speaks to him in a voice he can only describe as all knowing; omniscient like his archon.

“you seem troubled, “malipo” kinich,” it said and this makes kinich stop in his tracks. “do you not trust your little companion to bring you victory?”

kinich doesn’t answer immediately. he takes his time to weigh out the answers he could reply with. “trust is a strong word. we’re only bound by a contract after all. i’m simply weighing the chances of my gamble.”

the wayob chuckles, deep and fatherly. kinich felt his shoulders start to relax a little more as the wayob continued to speak to him. “bearers of the “malipo” name are often accompanied by saurian companions through thick and thin. some, if not all, of them had an unbreakable bond between them.”

“so i’ve heard,” kinich says, arms crossing over his chest as he questions, “but a lot of people have questioned your judgment because of it.”

kinich hears a chuckle again as he hears something akin to glass breaking in the distance. 

“i’m well aware, “malipo” kinich. which is why i’m glad,” when kinich looks up to the dark sky, hundreds of shattered fragments rain down on him but he doesn’t shield himself. he feels his heart beat a little faster when he catches sight of his body—lacking his bandana and gloves—land a few feet away from him.

“my judgment was proven right, once again.”

“wait–” but the wayob had lost its glow. kinich doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it further as his own body possessed by a small dragon is grabbing him by the shoulders and screaming at his face.

“consider yourself lucky that i see some value in you “malipo” kinich!” the dragon shouts as he raises his hand, the same hand he always uses to summon ajaw’s power before being blinded by a green glow. “consider this an investment! so you better bring in some profit or i’m taking your beloved as hostage!”

a persistent series of knocks on your front door rudely awakens you from your slumber. grumpily leaving your bed, you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you prepare yourself to berate whoever is at your door at this ungodly hour.

“what is it—”

“you win this time, human!” a small dragon screams at you. you blink a few times as you hold out both your hands for ajaw to land on as he huffs and obliges. “i’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, so you better keep yours!”

“please don’t tell me you actually made a deal with him…” when you look up, you feel tears threaten to spill from your eyes again. kinich stands there, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you in distress. you let ajaw go and let your hands drift to kinich’s face, dragging them under his eyes and tracing over his lips as a ghost of a smile starts to form.

you chuckle in disbelief. “yeah, maybe i have.”

“i hope you know the consequences of your decision,” you sneak a peek at ajaw who has his little pixel arms crossed over his chest. you turn back to kinich, a smile on your lips as you tug him inside your not so empty home. “you’ll just have to wait and see.”

ajaw quietly watches as you make kinich some food, a homely ambience blankets the house as you and kinich catch up. he’ll never openly admit it, but he’s glad you agreed to his deal. he feels kinich’s eyes follow him like a hawk as he sits himself down on your shoulder. you offer him a spoon of food but he only huffs in decline. 

you’re waiting has paid off, though ajaw will never verbally admit. the other half of both your souls has come home and your statement was proven right: ajaw’s soul—as well as yours—will always wait for kinich to come home.

and kinich smiles, because like ajaw, he’ll never verbally admit how he’s been waiting for him to save him from the night kingdom all this time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[arc-misadventures]

Are We Even Human Anymore?

Class B, Spartan, Jaune Arc was walking down a road on the island of, Patch. He looked to his side to see a a few buildings that had gouges carved into the wood, a result of the recent, Grimm attack that had just took place. Luckily, Jaune, and the rest of team was already here to conduct standard routine patrol of the island to weed out any pockets of, Grimm.

He walked by, rifle in hand as he eyed the islands local militia, and members of the, Vale Republic Guard. Vale's standing army made of volunteer soldiers. Where the, Spartans were, Vale's spear tip to break through the, Grimm hordes, the VRG was the shield wall that held them back for the, Spartans to strike.

He spared them a fleeting glance as he walk over to see the, Spartan on command of this mission. Class A, Spartan, Raven Branwen.

A Spartans rank was decided upon by a variety of factors: Spartan children at the age of five were all considered, Class F, commonly considered the trainee class. When a trainee reached the age of age of twelve they were promoted, a sign that they were no longer solely a trainee, but an apprentice.

They were promoted to the ranks of, E, or D Class based upon their performance. And, then a B Class, Spartan, would give them training in that trainee's chosen field of expertise. A trainee could have many teachers offering tutelage to help broaden their skill sets.

Because of, Jaune's birthday present from his parents, Jaune sought out, Raven Branwen to learn the blade under her, being one of the few, Spartans to use swords. The pair had developed a close bound over their training, leading to, Jaune to be assigned to, Raven on missions quite often. As a result of this familiar bound, Jaune knew some of, Raven's little quirks, and whatnot. So as he neared her, and saw her nervously fidgeting with her hands, he knew full, and well something was up.

He called out to her on their helmets radio, concern lightly seeping into his voice as he eyed his friend. "Raven?"

"Yes, what is it?" Raven's response was filled with an air of nervousness, and worry as she all, but jumped out of her crimson, and raven black armour to face him. Cueing, Jaune on to the fact that something was wrong, but what was the question.

"Are you, are you okay, Raven?"

"I'm fine! Now, give me a status update on the situation?"

"The Grimm threat has been neutralized. Miniman causalities were sustained by the islands local militia, and VRG forces. No civilians were harmed, and no fatalities were reported either."

"Good, good good good... Inform the local commanding officer that we will be moving out shortly to patrol the area, and eliminate any other possible, Grimm threats."

"Yes, Ma'am." As, Jaune made his way to find the local commanding officer, he spared, Raven one concerned glance, hidden behind the visor of his helmet. The nervousness etched into her voice, and her desire to get away from here as fast as possible, but him on high alert.

There was something here on, Patch that made, Raven's nerves on edge. But, what could that be?

Jaune shook his head of these thoughts as he headed towards the highest rank officer among the, VRG. A major with blonde, hair, and a stubble across his face.

"Major, may I speak with you?"

The major gave him one glance before he issued some final orders to his subordinates, before walking over to, Jaune. Stopping before him, and offering him a salute, of which, Jaune offered one in kind. Despite the fact the major technically outranked, Jaune, It was common practice for most soldiers of the VRG to see, Spartans as their superiors due to their position as, Spartans.

"Major, Xiao Long, reporting, Sir!"

"At ease, Major. I am here to report to you that me, and my team will be moving out to explore the area, and eliminate any potential, Grimm threats in the area."

"Y-You're leaving already, Sir...?" There was a noticeable sound of disappointment in his voice, as he his eyes turn to look past him. Jaune followed his gaze to see he was staring at, Raven.

"Is there a problem with that, Major?"

It wasn't uncommon for officers in the, VRG to wish that, Spartan teams to linger in a spot that had just been subject to a, Grimm attack in case of the possibility of a second attack. Or, if the case the commanding officer was some fat pig they would 'ask' the, Spartans to remain to protect their shiny junk.

"Ah! No... No, Sir... if, Raven wants to leave she may leave." The way he said, Raven's name gave, Jaune pause for concern. There was no respect in his voice that one would expect to give when addressing a, Spartan. There was a sadness, and a air of familiarity in his voice as he watch his teacher from afar.

"How do you know her name, Major?" Jaune had dealt with several civilians trying to get close to himself, or his fellow, Spartans. Often they were doing this as a means of gaining status. Leading to many, Spartans to be cautious of any civilian, even those in the military when they wished to speak with a, Spartan.

"We... we were close once, Sir. I was just hoping to talk with her, and give her this." He saw the mean reach under his armour plating, and pulled out an envelope, and offered it towards, Jaune. "I understand why she wouldn't want to talk with me, I just thought she should see this. Can you give this to her, Sir; Please?"

Jaune eyed the envelope warningly as he grabbed it, and opened it, inspecting the contents. Inside was a letter, and some photos, Jaune didn't see it as anything dangerous so he decided it was safe to give it to her. He was about to close the envelope when he saw something that caught his eye. It was a photo of a smiling woman around his age, with violet eyes, and golden locks of hair with an all too familiar face.

"Who is the woman in this picture?" Jaune watched as the, Major looked around nervously at, Raven before returning his gaze back to him.

"I-I think it would be best if, Raven explain that to you, Sir." Jaune gave him one last glance before he nodded at him, and placed the photo back in the envelope.

"Very well, I shall do ask you ask, Major."

"Thank you, Sir!" Major Xiao Long, offered him a salute, which he returned in kind before making his way towards, Raven.

"Ahh good, you're finished, let's grab the others, and get going, Jaune."

"That Major back there seems to know you, Raven. He asked me to give you this.' Jaune offered the envelope to, Raven who even under the helmet he could see the nervousness in her eyes as he watch her slowly take it from his hands.

She opened it, and read the letter, her hands shaking as tears started to well up in her eyes. She then took out one of the photos he had been looking at earlier. A chocked gasp of sorrow escaped her lips. She soon removed her helmet, letting a mane of raven black hair escape it's confines, as she whipped away tears falling from her crimson eyes.

Jaune swiftly removed his helmet as he watched his teacher, his friend cry. He know, Raven for years, and she always appeared as this stoic, and collected person who was a master of her emotions, but to see her break down just from a photo? Something was wrong, something terrible.

"Raven? Raven, What's wrong?!" He placed his hand on her back as she struggled to reign in her tears, it was like watching a child bursting into tears at the lose of a loved one.

Raven soon raised her head as she took sharp gasps of air as she calmed her nerves. She looked to the sky as she steadied her nerves before turning to address her friend, and student.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I just... I didn't expect this to impact me so..."

"It's okay, Raven. It's okay... But, what the hell just happened? You just broke down into tears, I've never seen you like this before. What is in that letter?"

She took a deep sigh before she turned to look at the back of the, Major as he ordered his troops about.

"That man over there... He's someone I am... I was close to... very close to..." She pulled out another photo of the smiling blonde girl in the photo, and returned the girls radiant smile with a sorrow one of her own. "His name is, Tai Yang Xiao Long. When I was younger, just a, B Class, Spartan I met him here while out on a mission. He was just a captain then, and he was showing me, and my squad around, Patch. Local hotspots where, Grimm seemed to appear from, and what not. We stuck to each other quite a lot while we were out here, he even saved my life one time. The two of us just... clicked, you know? We just naturally fit together, so much so it hurt when we we apart from one another for too long. I used to spend my time off with him."

A smile spread across, Raven's face as she looked through another photo, before it turned into a sad smile.

"I was in, Atlas for a joint mission to deal with, Atlasian Spartans when I realized I was pregnant with his child... I was then kept in, Atlas Academy as I went through the pregnancy."

"Wait, the girl in the photos... She's your daughter?!" Jaune was shocked, Raven had her secrets just like everyone, and Jaune never wanted to pry. But, to suddenly learn his friend had a daughter his age was rather... shocking.

"Yes... she's my daughter. Her name is, Yang, Yang Xiao Long. A perfect mix between me, and him..."

"I thought she looked a lot like you, but I assumed she was your younger, Sister, not you daughter! I assume she is my age then, and since I never saw her till now. She's, Auraless?"

Raven nodded her head as she gave a hum of confirmation. "After she was test, and proved to be negative... I felt relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Yes, relieved." Raven took a deep sigh before looking at the sky. "You know what this life of our demands of us, Jaune... I didn't want that for my daughter. But, since she was, Auraless she couldn't stay with me... So, when I came back to, Vale I popped over to, Tai, and said my goodbyes; To both him, and my daughter..."

"I understand why you left her with this, Tai fellow. But, you never visited them again? You could have still been their for them, no?"

"Look at me, Jaune. Do I scream mother, housewife, any of those things?"

"Nope. You being a mother is odd enough as it is, you being a housewife, wearing an apron, and baking cookies? Now that's just crazy talk!" The pair shared a laugh at the shear ridicules of the thought of someone like, Raven as housewife. "But, just because you didn't... couldn't settle down with him, that doesn't mean you couldn't have spent time together. Getting to spend time with the man you love, and sharing in happy moments with your daughter."

"I didn't want her to get too attached to me! I was scared that if she grew too close to me, and if I died fighting against the, Grimm... It... It breaks my heart to just think about how she would react if I died... My heart can't take it, Jaune..."

"Maybe, but I think you would be just as devastated if you died as well. Because, she may not know who you are on account of you never being there for her. I think she's chasing after you in her own way." Jaune pulled out a photo of a smiling, Yang, grinning from ear to ear. Dressed in an all too familiar deep green uniform. A cadet officers uniform. "You may say she following her dad, but that smile of her reminds me more of you, Raven. In her own little ways, Raven, she's chasing after you. How much would it hurt to say hi to her? Not nearly as much as never getting the chance to I reckon."

She looked at him before she turned her gaze to look at the man she loved. "But, how am I supposed to do that? Just walk up to her, and say. 'hi?"

"You start slow, Raven. You first reunite with that, Tai fellow over there. And, then eventually he introduces you to your estranged daughter. Simple as that."

"But, is it though?"

"Are we even human anymore?"

"The unofficial moto of the, Spartans."

"That's right. Because of our training we've gone through since our childhood, we've become so detached from our emotions that we no longer seem human. This, Tai fellow, and you apparent daughter appear to keep you tethered to your humanity, Raven. Go over there, and reunite with your old flame, before that rope breaks, and you lose that humanity that we fight, and die for."

"Ha! When did you so wise, and philosophical, Jaune?"

Jaune shrugged his shoulders at her before he looked towards, Tai. "I'm a 'knight.' I probably picked up a thing, or two reading all those books about knight."

"Yeah, probably... Okay..." Raven straightened her back, as she put the envelope in her pocket. "Wish me luck."

"Luck."

Jaune smiled as he watched as, Raven walked over to, Tai, and gave him a tap on the shoulder. The surprised look, followed by that infectious smile he gave her brought a smile to his face in turn.

If we, Spartans, seemingly heartless killing machines could generate such a smile with our mere presence, then where is the truth in a question such as: 'Are we even human anymore?'

Because, how could anything, but a humans pure love for one another elicit such a reaction?

The question shouldn't be: 'Are we even human anymore?' But, 'What's stopping us from being human?'

Isn't that was make people human: Searching for what makes us human?

[empressgeekt]

batfam meets the justice league fic idea, where Nightwing convinces the JL that the batfam is the last of the race Gotham bat demons...

made on moble so sorry in advance.

Okay so it starts with Batwoman and Nightwing hanging around the watchtower. Eventually someone (most likely either hal or barry) asks how they are related to batman. Batwoman claims to be his sister, and Nightwing obviously says he's his son. When the question of who Nightwing's mom comes up (along with some of the league thinking that Nightwing was an accident, cause they can't see bats settling down), Batwoman simply says, "he doesn't have one."

The convo sudden shifts to the topic of the 'history' and 'biology' of the bat demon race. How they were nearly eradicated by a war with the Amazon's, and Atlantis, only a few really surviving and finding refuge in the caves below Gotham. Hwo they used ancient forgotten magic to remove all memories of this 'war' to keep themselves save. And finally how they reproduce asexually, by reviving the souls of children who were wrongfully killed. Taking the weak dead spirit and carrying them in their own soul until it could put itself back together.

When asked if this was how Nightwing was born, they confirm it.

BW: oh yeah. Actually 'wing was kind of a surprise you could say.

Hal: surprise?

N: YEP! You see I was kinda of dad's first so he really didn't know what he was doing...

BW: and it ended with bossy big brother screaming his head off in an emergence of a batling that he didn't know he was carrying.

Barry: screaming his head off?

N: oh...well the process of soul splitting, emergence, rebirth, whatever you want to call it, includes the host's soul breaking down enough to allow the younger newly revived soul to detach. It's very painful, So I've heard.

BW; so you've heard? Kid please I know you've heard your father when it came to your siblings rebirth.

Needless to say everyone (especially hal and barry), look at Batman the same way for the next few days.

when Bruce confronts his son and cousin, he honestly can't say he hates the idea. UT would throw off any suspicions sound hus true identity. Not mention give him a new way to mess with hal.

The rest of the batfam (let's say standard webcomic cast, with Terry and Matty McGinnis [time traveled/dimensionhopped], along with flashpoint!batman, because they deserve to be in the safe place rhay is the batfam too, for funies), also find this cover story hilarious, and spend all of dinner adding to the bat-demon mythos.

Thomas would've been the last surviving member of the demon army, who retreated and sought refuge in Gotham, along with his human turned immortal companion of Alfred. Bruce, Kate, and Luke (batwing) would his 'children'.

The normal children would all still be Bruce's. Inculding spoiler, as why she claims she isn't Bruce's daughter, she isn't passing up the chance to mess with the JL.

Eventually the idea gets suggested that they should trick the JL into believing that Batman is pregnant with a new batling. The prank idea slowly snowballs from there and Bruce is unable to stop it. So he agrees to join in, ans rhe prank planninf begins. Matty immediately volunteers to be the new batling, because he technically the youngest and doesn't have a vigilante alter ego yet.

The prank starts out slow. Batwoman and Nightwing increase their visits to the watchtower? Specially when batman is there and they are usually in the same room as him.

Bruce pretends to be more tired often, even pretending to take a nap, where the JL can find him. He also fakes head aches.

Eventually Clark asks him if he's alright. And Nightwing responds with

N: of course he's not. He's working too hard.

B: Nightwing...

N: there's a reason me and aunt BW following you, and it's so you don't over do it!

B: nightwing...

N: even grandfather is worried.

B: Nightwing. I have been through this 8 times already. I think I know my limits. Besides your grandfather has always been worried over the thought of a new spawn in the house.

Clark: !!!!

Once more things around batman grow awkward for the next few weeks.

The end of the fic would be the JL visiting the "bat domain" to meet Matty dressed up in a mask and brightly colored suit. And finding out about the literal small army that batman's been building. Not to mention cameo of Thomas in his bat suit scaring the living crap out if the justice league, and having the time of his life.

Edit: Alright its official, this is going to be my holiday special for this year. So, around Christmas time I'll post a link so yall can read this.

Edit 2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51963331/chapters/131402920

Happy holidays! hears and early present!

[dilfhos]

STRAY

#!WHO : SHIGARAKI TOMURA

#!CC: puppygirl!reader, thoughts of depravity, readers kinda naive, no thots just dick, there’s no expressive consent but reader’s kinda dumb and needy, use of “doggy” and “pup”. reader does actually bark (not them arf, yips! like a husky, heady bark.) MDNI.

+bringing back this banger from my old blog. you can also read it on my ao3. im nervous lol idk how its gonna hold up 2 years later, diff audience. i can’t remember the ask specifically but it was something like Shigaraki finding a stray and he ends up using her. omg and i want to tag @bakatenshii idk if you remember my old alias but i do remembered you loved this fic!

+NETWORK(S): @angelshub @bitchcraftinc (i keep forgetting to do this mL, excuse the random @/lovelies)

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad…

Shigaraki still wonders how he ever let this be, an animal-woman hybrid living in his already cramped apartment. Doesn’t know why he hadn’t bothered to kick you out either. But it could be anybody’s guess as to why you still remain.

It all started when he got into an argument with his landlord, one that required him the self control to back off and avoid killing the bastard. It was rainy but Shigaraki paid no mind to the stinging raindrops that pelted his skin and soaked his clothes. It was dark out, but not too dark as to not notice you cowering against the side of his building upon his return. Your eyes were closed as you trembled in the cold rain.

Shigaraki didn’t know why he found himself moving closer to get a better look at you but when your eyes shot open, he found himself almost curious. He’d never seen anything like you before. Especially when your ears, you very doglike ears twitched forward, erect and alert. But you didn’t seem all that afraid. You were dressed in soaked shirt that was too big for you as it sagged off your body.

He crouched down and you inched toward him reluctantly and as you moved from your previous position, his eyes sought out the tail that had been tucked in between your legs.

“Hey, there you are,” Someone cooed from behind him. Shigaraki turned to eye the man. There was nothing all that remarkable about him; he wore all black, his hood over his head save for a few dark locks that stuck to his brows. Shigaraki wasn’t the least bit intimidated. But that couldn’t be said for you as you frantically dove into his arms, letting out a frightened whimper. Your ears flattened against your head as your hands curled into Shigaraki’s coat.

He wanted to back you off and leave from the situation as it had nothing to do with him and was fixing to do so when he looked down. Your pupils were blown and eyes glossy, pleading.

He sighed before standing, pulling you up with him to stand on trembling feet.

“She yours?” Shigaraki mumbled. You moved behind him, your hands tightening on his clothes.

“Heh, yeah, ran right out through the door. Isn’t that right baby?” You growled all while cowering behind Shigaraki’s form.

“No collar,” Shigaraki noted.

“Been meaning to get her one. C’mon baby, why don’t you leave the nice man alone and come back home with me?” He cooed.

The utter confidence and trust you had in Shigaraki at this moment was appalling. He barely covered the man in terms of height and upon first glance, he looked rather average. Definitely not the type to win in a fist fight. So why were you so dependent on him to save you?

Shigaraki didn’t have time to really think too much about it because the man advanced, silver glinting under the streetlamp. You yelped and cowered back against the wall again, covering your eyes.

You heard a grunt followed by a pained cry as that then died into the sound of pelting rain. When you lowered your shaky hands, Shigaraki was standing over a pile of what looked to be ash, the knife a few feet away.

Ever since that night, he couldn’t seem to shake you.

You’re loyal and to him, it’s annoying. Showing up at his doorsteps turns into you sleeping on his ratty couch. His chasing you away turns into grumbles of tolerance. The typical sneer he wears when you come sniffing around dissolved in hidden blushes and twitched lips as your distrustful cowering eventually turn into you becoming disturbingly comfortable around him.

After another day of pressing his key into the lock does he already see you on the other side of the door, tail whipping back and forth in excitement as you await his return. Except he isn’t really in the mood. Today was particularly bad and he wanted nothing more than to possibly let off steam, maybe watch something, blow his load and sleep.

“Stupid mutt, stop doing that!” He growls when his back immediately slams against the door, eyes narrowed in the way you smile up at him.

“Welcome home sir.” You beamed.

Another thing you picked up was calling him ‘sir’. Despite the many times he tells you not to. He wasn’t your last owner, and honestly, he’d like it if you didn’t call him anything. But every one of his complaints go through one ear and out the other with you having half the intelligence of an actual dog.

He recoils when he feels your tongue graze his neck. Groans when it doesn’t just end there. You’re licking his chin, his neck, and when your tongue laps over his lips, he’s trying to buck you off. But you’re so persistent as you press further against him, your front grinding up against his groin unknowingly.

Shigaraki bites back a moan at your ignorance, his cock already hardening from your aimless shifting.

You couldn’t feel the bulge pushing against your thigh? The soft grunts he’d release when you’d lap at the rough skin of his neck? You can’t be that stupid or then maybe you are.

But would it be that bad if you are? Because then he wouldn’t feel guilty when he dreams of stuffing you full with his cock. You practically ask for it every chance you get with him. The sleeping in his bed, your excessive show of affection, the sickening devotion in your eyes.

And then, isn’t it what he deserved? He did save you that night. Do you even remember how easy it could have been for him to just walk away? To give you up to that creep? Sure it only happened a few weeks ago but he thinks of that night as if it was only the last. How when he brought you home and went to retrieve a towel to dry you up, you were on your hands and knees practically presenting yourself to him as you slumped in exhaustion. As if giving him the go ahead to do what he wanted to and by gods, it took everything with him not to.

He wasn’t a hero, not by a long shot. And maybe you didn’t have the mental capacity to accept that he was actually a villain because in your eyes, he was your savior.

But as said, today was a particularly bad day and right now he felt anything but.

So just this once he’ll give in. Whether you wanted it or not didn’t matter to him at this point, already past contemplation. After all you’re his pet now, his property and if he can’t do this then what good are you really?

You release your little whimpers and when you look up, your eyes are wide, so full of confusion when he suddenly has you on your hands and knees pressing into you from behind on the floor. Your owner wears a new look, his eyes so feral, teeth gritted. And you know that look; it was the look of your last owner among all the other men that tried to take you on the streets. Hunger. Greed. Desperation.

And you should be wary, should cower away from the carnality in his eyes because you know better than anyone that when it’s present one thing is desired. Yet, you hold your ground. You don’t struggle, in fact he could just make out the way your hips shimmy back a little bit and the whine that surfaces from your throat.

You just can’t help it, the air around you has changed. A thick cloud of hot lust is weighing down around you and so much so, you can’t help but to submit. Besides you trust him one for reasons you can’t figure out.

Shigaraki refuses to meet your eyes, instead he quickly fumbles with his belt and takes out his hard cock. A blush spreads across his face when he eyes the steady slick trailing down your thighs and upon closer inspection he can see how swollen you were and that’s what does him in.

It’s what has him surging forward, bottoming out completely inside of you. Your ears flatten against your head as you let out the neediest sounding moan, one that has a shiver licking down his spine.

“Shit. Shit,” He should feel ashamed, taking advantage of you like this. But he clings on the fact that he’s a villain, that’s his justification. A villian with his pet, that’s all this is.

It’s fueling his newfound vigor as he speeds up, the heat of your tight cunny sucking him in with every cant of his hips.

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as his own thrust forward, his cock forcing past your tight ring of muscle. You look back again, your eyes glossy with tears, long tongue hanging out as you whine and pant. He was so thick, so heavy within your tight, hot walls. Your nails scrape helplessly against the dingy carpet as he rocks into you with so much drive.

In the midst of your panting and whining surfaces his voice, so grating and filthy as he tumbles every degrading name in the book. It should worry him and yet it has his stomach knotting up, his thighs and glutes tightening as he holds on to your hips for dear life. And in the midst of that is the loud, wet, shlicks of each sink into you.

“My needy little bitch. Taking my cock like a good doggy,” He grits, eyeing the recoil of your ass against his hips.

His hand seeks out the base of your tail as he uses it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. And it hurts, it has the tears spilling over and yet, your cunt only tightens around him some more.

“F-Feels good sir!” You cry out at about the same time as he mumbles,

“Good doggy, such a good pup,” And at his praise, your ears bend forward, and your tail begins to switch slowly in his gasp. You feel a knot in your tummy, desperately winding down to what you’re chasing. It has you rocking back against him needy to have, so so needy. And the way your resolve has melted away, it makes all his thoughts of guilt completely vanish, leaving him with an unbearable need to fill you up.

He’s quickly pulling out and flipping you onto your back, nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he spreads you wide.

You were so wet, inhumanly so as it’s gushing down onto the carpet and the sight alone has him nearly cumming right then and there but he holds it. At least until he’s thrusting into you again, your head thrown back as you let out a broken whine. Your tits bounce with all the force he’s using as he’s putting everything into these last moments. His one track kind only focuses in the tuft of fur above your cunny, at the way your puffy lips pull part each time he's pushing forward and the slick coating his cock.

You’re yelping with each kiss he delivers to your cervix, hands desperate to hold onto to your new owner. You reach out and he grasps your wrists, using you to thrust impossibly deeper into you. Static fills his mind as his eyes roll back, his hips slamming against yours, balls smacking your ass each time.

“Fuck, fuck cumming!”

“Sir! Sir please-” You cut your own self off with a heady bark, one that startles him. It’s also what has him groaning as he twitches, his seed spilling so suddenly into you. Your pussy milks him as you gush around his dick and it has him falling over, elbows pressed into the carpet on either side of your head. Your legs wrap around his waist as your hips shimmy up against him, whining as you push past your own limits, twitching every so slightly at the overstimulation and sealing this moment of what would be the best one in your simple little head.

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad.

He also thinks he should probably name you.

dilfos. do not plagiarize any parts of my content— current or archival. all rights reserved.

[karenandhenwilson]

I think I figured out, at least for myself, why the 9-1-1 fandom and part of the Buddie-or-Bust side of it feels so much more toxic than ever before when I know for a fact, those demanding Buddie has to become canon and who are looking for any tiny clue to be able to say it will become canon have always been this toxic. (I mean, with the exception of some people who came into the show because with Buck being bi the show was suddenly not queerbaiting anymore--lol, it hurts even just writing this as if it were really true--and then became die-hard Buddie fans or at least pretend to be to garner enough followers and clicks to make money out of fandom. But I'm not talking about them here.)

Before Bucktommy, there was no real opposition for them in the fandom. Buck and Eddie both had other LI and those had their fans (I know for a fact there are still people now shipping Buck with Taylor or Buck with Marisol or Eddie with Shannon). But those were very few fans and they created their own little spaces in fandom places and were barely noticeable. So the Buddie-or-Bust fans were able to mostly ignore them. And there have of course also been some small fanon ships for Eddie and Buck with other people, but those are barely noticed either.

But Bucktommy? That got huge in practically an instant. Because so many people were excited for bi story line with an established character and one in Buck's circumstances (not even Buck himself). And the Bucktommy fans were loud about their support of this new canon ship. So Buddie-or-Bust fans suddenly felt threatened and became much louder in their hate for anything not Buddie. Because now, for some reason, the fans of the other ship seem to be a threat to them. And also, for the first time for any of the LI of Eddie or Buck, they made an honest effort to set up Tommy and the relationship with him as something long-term. Which the Buddie-or-Bust fans recognize just as much as the Bucktommy fans, and so they try even harder to find fault in every single thing.

And that did change something in the behavior of the die-hard Buddie fans. At times, I've been neck-deep in Ana bashing, in Shannon bashing, in Taylor bashing, in Chimney bashing, in Abby bashing, in Maddie bashing. Because I enjoy a good bashing at times. It can be very cathartic. But you know what I've never seen there? I've never seen any of those characters being called derogatory names. Or their fans being called derogatory names and, in most cases, their fans didn't retaliate to the bashing either. (Though, at least for Chimney fans they sometimes very viciously go against people even just mentioning they don't like him and it came up a couple of times that Chimney fans found derogatory names for those bashing Chimney because that group of fans also seems to be unable to avoid content bashing their fav and instead sought it out deliberately to complaint about it.)

I can't even count anymore how many derogatory names I've seen for Tommy or Bucktommy or Bucktommy fans. They seem to come up with a new name every other day. And they enjoy trumping each other in their creations and using those names to get around the boundaries others try to set for themselves by filtering out the already known names.

And I already see people coming at me with "Oh, but Bucktommy fans started it by calling us BoBs." and just: No. Once more, you get an F in reading comprehension. It's always been made very clear that BoBs stood for Buddie-or-Bust and I personally don't see anything derogatory here but also, it's always been made very clear it's a specific subset of Buddie fans who behave poorly to separate them from the Buddie fans who don't care about Bucktommy. Because those people using that term are very well aware that there are really just a couple of very loud bad apples in the Buddie side of fandom and the rest of the Buddie fans don't deserve to be lumped in with them. While, on the other hand, all Bucktommy fans are always called names as a whole.

And I think their biggest problem is not even necessarily the "threat" they perceive Bucktommy to be to their own ship, though that's clearly a big part still. Otherwise, they wouldn't come after authors and artists and other fans who once shipped and created for Buddie and are now creating for Bucktommy. And otherwise, they wouldn't tag so many Buddie fics as Bucktommy, too, in some kind of strange hope to convince Bucktommy fans to ship Buddie again. (Without noticing that all they are accomplishing is to make everyone annoyed at them. And yes, that includes those Buddie fans who don't care for Bucktommy at all because they need to curate the Buddie tag very carefully now, too.)

I think their biggest problem is this belief that their ship is only valid if it's canon.

Which is so strange. Fandom has always mostly been about ships that are very much not canon. And no one ever expected their ships to become canon in the past, as far as I know. (Except if it was promoted and then didn't happen. Looking at Sterek here.) Canon ships barely get any attention. I mean, look at all the 9-1-1 ships that are canon, including Tarlos, and how little content there is for any of them, and also how little engagement there is for this content compared to Buddie. That's always been a trend in fandom, that's not new with 9-1-1.

It's not only strange, I also think it's honestly sad for these fans. Because they have deliberately set themselves up to be disappointed and dig that hole of disappointment ever deeper. Even if Buddie should ever go canon, which I honestly don't think will happen, it won't be at all what they expect. And they'll either leave the fandom or turn on the ship they were so toxically addicted to before.

[umbrify]

hello i saw u tagged jimmy solidarity on that "free my man he did none of that. he did a bunch of other shit though" post and i am incredibly compelled by the implications here. please may i have an essay on the subject

YOU MAY.

Okay so we’re gonna be specifically talking about Empires SMP Season 2 Jimmy (henceforth, Jimmy,) and the way he conducts himself, how those actions reflect on him, versus how he sees himself (and how the fandom sees him in turn). Welcome to my Ted Talk.

The most important thing to understand about Jimmy is that he lies. He lies about everything, and convinces himself that his lie is true to the point where he really thinks it is. Take, for example, a moment in Sausage’s episode 41 [full exchange from 9:10 - 19:37] where Jimmy kills Sausage, and then when Sausage, followed by fWhip, return to Tumble Town to discuss the murder, Jimmy blatantly lies about the altercation to fWhip, claiming “[Sausage] came over, and he assaulted me, fWhip!” Jimmy insists that it was Sausage who physically started it, despite that being completely untrue. Jimmy then goes on to deny having killed Sausage Sausage at all, sounding affronted at the idea and demanding to see the player head that drops on death. fWhip asks how many levels Sausage has, which is none, and Jimmy claims that Sausage must have used all his experience. Jimmy denies and lies, and when fWhip goes looking for Sausage’s things, finding them in Jimmy’s storage, Jimmy acts shocked, saying “I think I’m being set up! […] I’m gonna leave this conversation, you do what you gotta do, but I don’t think I’m the bad guy here.” As if Jimmy didn’t explicitly kill Sausage moments ago!! As if it isn’t his fault!!!

And the problem here, the core problem, is that so many people just… believe him. They take Jimmy’s words at face value and assume that he’s always a reliable narrator in his own stories, despite the fact that it couldn’t be further from the case. The issue is less that people assign New and Different problems to Jimmy, more that they strip him of any wrongdoing at all, making him out to be some sad little pathetic wet cat who didn’t deserve it. And— don’t get me wrong, he is extremely sad, but he also did it to himself.

I think one of the more interesting ways to illustrate this, is to talk about the way Jimmy perceives himself. From the start of the season, he always insists on being called “The Sheriff.” He’s not Jimmy, he’s The Sheriff, and throughout the season, he can be seen constantly insisting upon and chasing after that title. He wants respect— or, his version of respect. What he really wants is a yes man. This difference can very clearly be seen in the way he treats the two deputies he had throughout the season.

When fWhip was the deputy, it’s because he wanted to be. He sought Jimmy out because he wanted to be Jimmy’s right hand man, and Jimmy let him. fWhip consistently referred to Jimmy as The Sheriff, upholding Jimmy’s version of the laws as best he could. And, there really is something to be said about the fact that fWhip, as a goblin, inherently didn’t understand the concept of arbitrary laws, or that sort of morality at all, and was only one, upholding it because he cared about Jimmy, but two, treating the laws as Jimmy treated them— i.e, making a shrine for that which Jimmy made a church for, but that’s a whole separate essay that I want to write at some point. Either way, he was good to Jimmy, though their time together was short. He made Jimmy a home away from home in Gobland [fWhip episode 8 timestamp 20:28] and helped Jimmy win the court trial by serving as his lawyer in the case against Joel [Trial best seen in Jimmy’s episode 10 starts at 3:03]. After fWhip was fired, he went around Tumble Town noting down a bunch of “laws” that Jimmy was breaking. I wrote a whole post about this set of interactions already [here] but the short version is this: In fWhip’s episode 12 [5:54], he goes around and marks down all the laws that he’s saying Jimmy is breaking around Tumble Town. […] Of the seven instances that fWhip writes down, SIX of them almost directly relate to Jimmy not taking good care of himself or his empire. To me, it almost reads more like he cares about Jimmy, and is worried about him.

All this to say, that fWhip didn’t Respect The Sheriff as much as he Cared About Jimmy. And that’s an important distinction— he cared about Jimmy, the person. He had this whole veneer of respecting the laws— laws that he didn’t really understand— because he cared about Jimmy. And Jimmy fired him for a prank— one that wasn’t specifically targeted or malicious— because he saw that as Disrespecting The Sheriff. He didn’t want someone who Cared About Jimmy, he wanted someone who Respected The Sheriff. And fWhip wasn’t that.

Enter Scar.

During the Hermitcraft crossover, Scar started gunning for the position as deputy because he wanted the shiny deputy badge. That was it, that was the reason, and Scar acted accordingly. Everything was about acting like he Respected The Sheriff, even when he was blatantly breaking one of the core laws, wearing another player’s hat— both the sheriff hat [Jimmy episode 19 4:07] as well as trading away a sheriff hat, and being seen wearing one of Scott’s Chromia hats [Jimmy episode 22 14:27]. In this episode, Scar backhandedly compliments Jimmy, “oh, you’re just a… cute big guy, aren’t you?” to which Jimmy seems uncertain, asking “I’m real big, right?” to which Scar says he is. Jimmy then asks him about the Chromia hat Scar wears, and Scar tells him that he traded one of the sheriff hats to Scott. Jimmy gets upset at Scar, but before he can get properly mad, Scar distracts him by showing off a new section of Tumble Town that he made. Scar wears the mask of respect for just long enough to get the badge. When Jimmy gives him the badge, he says he has something else that he wants to give Scar as well. “I have found something real special for you, real special.” Scar says “I already got something special, this badge.” Jimmy says “you mean our friendship?” Which Scar dubiously agrees to. This is the last time Jimmy sees Scar before the hermits leave— Scar got what he wanted, and that was all. And yet, Jimmy hired him, because Scar put on the show. Scar was his yes man, Scar Respected The Sheriff, even if he didn’t Care About Jimmy.

He does it to himself, Jimmy does. He pushes away anyone that tries to care about him as a person, and surrounds himself with people that will be his yes men, his little sidekicks, anyone that holds the sheriff title in high regard. It’s why he takes so well to the Old Sheriff, who treats the sheriff title with the same reverence that he does, respecting the title of sheriff without actually respecting Jimmy much at all.

The thing about Jimmy is that he causes his own problems, and they’re all his fault. Yes he is crushingly lonely, and filled with self hatred, but he actively surrounds himself with it. It’s not that people are just inherently mean to him, he is almost asking them to be, by pushing away anyone that seems to care about him as a person.

I think, as my final note here, I wanna bring up a moment from Jimmy’s finale, episode 38. He and the Old sheriff, as they’re making their way to the Nether portal, discuss how fWhip only ever referred to himself as goblin fWhip, never as king. Jimmy says “I don’t think he ever held himself to the regard of being a king, and that— d’you know what? That sucks. He was my deputy for a while, he didn’t really think much of himself, I’m not gonna lie” [9:19]. I just find it interesting, that Jimmy says that it sucks how fWhip never called himself king— a title ostensibly higher than sheriff— and that fWhip was only a deputy. As if he thinks that fWhip could’ve been king, perhaps was worthy of the title, and just never took it— that he sees the taking of a title such as that to be so important, when for fWhip, it never was. I dunno, I just think there’s something to that. I think it says something about Jimmy and about the importance he places on titles that don’t really matter.

Jimmy ran away, in the end. He and the Old Sheriff ran far away from everything they ever knew. fWhip stayed, choosing to live out his days happily in the empire he helped to found. fWhip never took the title of king. Jimmy thinks he should’ve.

Isn’t that something?

[sitp-recs]

15 21 fics where Draco takes care of Harry

Happy Weekend folks! The last reclist for this self-indulgent HBD Harry celebration week brings the trope we all love and deserve: Harry being taken care of! Let 👏🏻 that 👏🏻 boy 👏🏻 be happy! I’m really soft for this trope because it delivers delicious character development and emotional payoff. Harry deserves all the nice things and I love seeing Draco willing to provide it, whether in the form of physical comfort, protection, shelter, medical care or just good old diq. I wanted to follow the previous lists format but ended up with 20 fics which means I left a bunch out (my first draft had around 30 🤡). As usual I tried to include both classics and hidden gems, and especially some that aren’t in the other lists. Enjoy!

Ceremonials by @jackvbriefs (NR, 4k)

“What are you doing here?” Harry said. This Malfoy blinked up at him, then lifted the bottle of tequila. “I’m teaching you how to make a drink.”

Is This Love? By @phdmama (E, 4k)

Draco wouldn’t call himself a tender man. He fights the forces of evil for a living, trying his best to pay penance for the evil he’s done. He’s fought and killed in the name of duty, and when he’s not on duty, he tends either to play hard or retreat alone. He doesn’t lean on anyone, and he knows he’s not the first person anyone goes to when they need care. Comfort. That all changes tonight.

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille (T, 6k)

Harry kisses Draco in a public place. All hell breaks loose.

Unseen by astolat (M, 11k)

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Lusimeles by spqr (E, 23k)

“You’re not special, Potter,” Kingsley informs him, not looking up from his work. “But I’ve already done Occlumency training!” Harry splutters, indignant. “And it’s Malfoy.”

just tell me when it’s alright by M0stlyVoid (E, 23k)

Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

The Green Vial by @eidheann (E, 31k)

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

Expecto Patronum by @writcraft (E, 35k)

Harry Potter is the most sought after celebrity in wizarding Britain. His every movement is scrutinised, his relationships questioned and his photographs plastered over every paper. Harry's used to everyone thinking he’s a hero and has had plenty of time to learn how to keep his biggest secrets hidden from the press. As Draco Malfoy negotiates his feelings for the wizarding world's brightest star, he becomes increasingly attached to Harry and unravels the secrets he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

Breathe In (and Feel No Hurt) by Constance1 (T, 38k)

A tale of love, loss, and of finding hope again. Or the story of how Draco turned into a house-cat in order to secretly bother a depressed Harry Potter until he was no longer feeling sorry for himself.

Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (E, 50k)

When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence. Draco starts to worry, and then he starts to care, and then... horribly... he starts to fall in love.

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo and @babooshkart (E, 51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 100k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 300k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[ukulelevillainwrites]

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x she/her reader

summary : y/n gets fired from Fittes and seeks refuge with George, only to find out he works with the worst guy she's ever met

word count : 3.5k

notes : this is my first fanfic ever, the set up is a little slow but bear with me, the series will be a compilation of all my favorite tropes and in general everything i love to read in l&c fanfics, it's heavily inspired by everything i've read so far so thanks to all the amazing writers out there <3, a lot more happens in the second part that i will upload right next to this one

She wasn’t entirely surprised when she heard that George Karim had gotten fired from Fittes. He did a great job on the few occasions she got to work with him, but he always seemed to take his research too far. She remembered warning him several times.

“Supervisors aren’t as open-minded as I am, you’re gonna get in trouble if you keep bringing up your theories about the Problem to every person you interact with!”

“But don’t you find it weird how research has come so far and yet the Problem keeps growing? The official story tells us that an unidentified event caused it but what if it’s still going on? Wouldn’t you want to know what that was so we could finally put an end to this?”

When he put it that way, y/n couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Sure, I guess but it doesn’t justify going up to the fourth floor when it’s clearly closed to agents still in training!”

“Keep your head in the sand if you want but I’ll get to the bottom of this, I know I’m getting closer already.” George said with a proud smile on his face.

She’d laughed. He was stubborn but she found it endearing.

He had bragged about his latest discoveries after a case the both of them had been working on. It wasn’t the first time. They got along well and took the habit of grabbing an early morning snack on their way back from work. He would mostly tell her about his most recent theory, either about the Problem or his latest obsession, which could take a few hours. But y/n didn’t mind, she thought he was good company and it helped her relax after a case. Though aside from those few moments they didn’t spend that much time together. Especially since y/n became part of Quill Kipps’ crew.

A month ago, she had gotten the good news coming back to work after a weekend visiting her parents in her hometown south of London. She was ecstatic, her roommate El too. Especially El actually. Because they had such a huge crush on him. y/n didn’t quite understand it, but she did admire his career. He had a remarkable reputation among other Fittes agents and being part of his team would certainly boost her career as well. She had her heart set on moving up to management and someday become a prominent figure of the Fittes organization. But to reach this goal she’d need to be as remarkable as Kipps, better even. She wanted him to notice her, to see how great her Touch was but most importantly how organized and responsible she could be under pressure. She needed him to think she could be a great leader and sought his attention on every occasion. Because of that she and George drifted apart, going from work friends to acquaintances that simply exchanged passing hellos at the archives or the Fittes headquarters. Before she even thought of reaching out to him, he was gone.

“Did you hear?” El had asked her as she walked into their shared room.

“Heard what?”

“That annoying guy finally got fired!”

“What George? He wasn’t annoying he was sweet!”

“You have weird tastes in friends.”

“Yes, I do.” She told them with a wink.

“But do you know what happened? Most supervisors were pissed and wanted to involve the cops!”

“What? Why?”

“Because he tried to break into an office! They caught him trying to pick the lock! How crazy is that?” El seemed to relish the drama of the situation as their face lit up with a smile that seemed inappropriate under the circumstances.

“That is crazy but as much as I love to gossip, I really need to get some sleep.”

y/n got ready for bed and set her alarm for the following day. She had to do some research at the archives with her teammate. They would join Kipps later at the client’s house. It shouldn’t be too difficult since it seemed to be a Type One but she really needed to impress him. She had to be the perfect agent: quick, focused and perfectly prepared. Even though she was always very professional she still needed some rest.

y/n was a heavy sleeper and had very vivid dreams. Ever since she was a child, she had some of her nights disturbed by complex dreams that felt so real she would wake up exhausted the next morning as if she hadn’t slept at all. It hadn’t happened in quite some time, but that night y/n wouldn’t get much rest. She found herself in the middle of the woods, barefoot, standing in a clearing. The ground was covered with an emerald green moss that felt soft beneath her feet. She looked around but couldn’t see much beside the shadows of the surrounding trees. A thick fog made it hard to see where she was. Disoriented and lost, she started walking towards the nearest tree but, a few steps in, her right foot sank in ice cold water. She realized she was in the middle of a pond, stuck and unable to reach the shore. A frog jumped into the water behind her and made her turn around. A girl was standing in front of her. Her auburn hair was slightly curled, and her bangs delicately framed her brown eyes. She was slightly smaller than she was, about the same age, her face showed no emotion at all.

“Find me.” She said in a neutral tone.

y/n furrowed her brow, not understanding what she meant. As she opened her mouth to ask her to explain the girl repeated

“Find me.”

Without moving she somehow floated above the pond and retreated into the woods. She mouthed the same words one last time before the fog engulfed her. y/n woke up with a jolt, disoriented and terribly thirsty. What was that about? she thought. She didn’t have time to ponder since she hadn’t heard her alarm and was already late to meet up with her colleague.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Bobby I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long…”

“It’s fine but hurry up. Kipps insisted on gathering as much information as possible.”

“Really? But everything indicates a Type One right?”

“The problem isn’t with the dead but with the living. Didn’t you pay attention to who our client is?”

“Mrs Overton? What about her?” Bobby had an exasperated look on his face and sighed heavily. So much for being the perfect agent today.

“Her husband owns Overton Watches and basically runs a luxury empire and she is on the board of the Sunrise Corporation. She and her husband are close friends with Penelope Fittes and we cannot screw up this case otherwise our team will probably end up at the bottom of her list next time she needs trustworthy agents.”

Oh, I’m not rested enough to deal with that.

“Okay then, let’s get to work.”

They spent the whole day at the agency’s archives. The Fittes database did help a lot to find more information about the Overtons’ house but overall, it was a pretty boring case. The house was old, dated back the 1800s, it belonged to Mrs Overton’s ancestors, one of them died because, well, they had to at some point, and felt like coming back. This great grandmother didn’t live any kind of extraordinary life and decided to haunt the place in the same unremarkable way. Y/n had trouble staying focused. The case was not fascinating, far from it. Her mind drifted and came back to her dream. In hindsight it wasn’t that disturbing. It was just her brain making stuff up. But she couldn’t shake the feeling she had felt when the girl had spoken to her. There was something magnetic about her voice and it had an intensity that didn’t match the lack of expression on her face. It bothered her. Why couldn’t she stop seeing her face?

Bobby got up to put back some newspapers and the sudden movement next to her brought her back to reality. Right, the Overton case. Everything indicated a Lurker, so y/n wasn’t too worried about tonight. She could still make up for today’s start. Plus, her talent would probably be the most useful. This unseemly case might serve her after all.

As she walked back to their table after putting a book back on its shelf, she accidently bumped into someone.

“Oh I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay don’t worry.”

“George? Hi! What are you doing here?”

“I came by to pick up the rest of my stuff…”

“Oh right… I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Don’t be I kinda deserved it anyway. Though I still think I was right.”

“About what?”

“Mrs. Dufour stealing sources. It’s pretty obvious she can’t afford to live the way she does on a supervisor’s salary, and she always looks like she’s plotting something. She reminds me of relic men. I never liked her.”

“Well to be fair you don’t like a lot of people… it looks like I missed your last hyperfixation… but it seems like a stretch and accusing her of something like that… Was it really worth getting into that much trouble?”

“I’m not chipper about it, but I’ll be fine. I already found something else, a friend I can still work with, maybe you know him. We live in-”

But y/n wasn’t listening. Bobby was calling her, telling her that they had to get moving to get to their client’s house before sundown.

“I really have to go George I’m sorry. But I’ll miss our walks filled with your crazy theories.” She said with a smile.

“If you want to come by for tea, we’d be happy to have you. 35 Portland Row, don’t forget!”

“Sure, I won’t! Good luck!”

“Thanks, you too.”

She hurried to catch up with her colleague. She really was going to miss him even though they weren’t that close she had grown used to seeing him around. But she couldn’t believe his theory about Mrs. Dufour. It sounded like he wanted to see evil everywhere and was looking for something to distract himself with. A made-up scenario that justified why he disliked her at the same time. Nothing more.

----

“Good evening, Madam, we are a leading team from Fittes. We were assigned to make your house safe again by Miss Fittes herself.”

Kipps always had a very humble way of introducing them to their clients. As proud as y/n was of being on his team, she didn’t feel entirely at ease with his elevated figures of speech.

“Yes, I was expecting you. Penelope told me she put one of her best teams on my case. I was very flattered.”

“Well, we do not want to appear overly confident, but we will be most efficient to take care of your problem. May we come in?” she asked.

“Of course, please. I suppose your supervisor will be here too?”

“Yes, Mrs. Dufour will be here shortly.” Kipps answered.

y/n abruptly turned around to look at him.

“Mrs. Dufour? What happened to Mr. Fowler?”

“He got called by DEPRAC to deal with some details on the last case we did. You know, the one where it only took you two minutes to find the source after Bobby and I spent a half hour looking for it. It was really impressive I was glad you were here.” He told her with a wink.

She felt herself blush. She wasn’t used to being praised and certainly not by a prominent agent like Quill Kipps, even after a month of working together she still felt flustered. Maybe that last case made up for the horrible impression she gave him on her first week. And she was going to keep proving him how great she was.

The praise was so unexpected it made her forget who their supervisor was for a moment. What were the odds that on the same day George told her about his suspicions she had to work with this potential traitor? She could not let George’s wild theories cloud her judgement. She was here to do a job, a relatively easy one given their research, and she was going to make a wonderful impression on both Kipps and this high-profile client. She took the lead and went inside.

As they stepped into the house, they were greeted by a white marble entrance furnished with glass cases displaying various clocks and watches, certainly a history of the famous Overton watches and mechanisms. The sun was already setting, it hit a crystal chandelier which reflected golden light over the walls. The pieces shone behind their glass. Their client guided them through the hall into the kitchen were teacups and biscuits had been served. Mrs. Overton took a seat and the three agents followed. She seemed at ease with the situation even though the young adults she had in front of her were here to rid her of a ghost. She sat at the head of the table, perfectly in control as if this meeting was a business reunion like any other. She was in her late fifties; her hair was silver and styled in an elaborate hairstyle. She looked both serious and relaxed at the same time. She was aware of the risks but wasn’t worried about the situation, like she had total faith in the team in front of her.

“While we wait for Mrs. Dufour maybe you could tell us more about what has been troubling you?” asked Kipps.

“I believe the haunting began about three weeks ago. My husband started feeling uneasy when he got home, and I felt the same fear shortly after. We never saw or heard anything we just feel watched.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Madam.” y/n tried to comfort her.

“The research we did on your house indicates that it’s been built in the 1800’s and never left your family is that correct?” Bobby interrupted.

“Yes, I inherited it about 2 years ago, but we only moved in this year.”

“We believe the haunting might be caused by one of your ancestors, a certain Emily Abbott, could you tell us anything about her?”

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of her before…”

“So, you wouldn’t have any idea what her source might be?”

“You might have a late night ahead of you. When we moved in, we kept most of the furniture that were already in the house. For all I know any of these pieces could be the source.”

That wasn’t good news. Hopefully with her Touch y/n could save them some time. They could start at the bottom of the house and work their way up, going from room to room as she touches different objects hoping for some result. As she organized the night in her head the front door opened.

Mrs. Dufour immediately filled the room with her presence. Mostly because she spoke at length and didn’t let the team finish asking their questions. She thanked Mrs. Overton for waiting for her, ushered her out of the house and gave them her directions for the night. Not even Kipps could object. She wanted him to stay nearby while Bobby and y/n were to explore the house to see if they could pick up anything. She felt for Kipps, this seemed like a monumental waste of time for him. But they couldn’t do much about it, agents were supposed to follow their supervisor’s instructions, they were in charge after all.

They searched the house until midnight, making rounds, going up and down the floors, looking for potential sources or trying to pick up any kind of psychical activity but came back downstairs empty handed. How was she supposed to impress anyone with a case like this? y/n and Bobby went back to the kitchen to report the lack of activity to Mrs. Dufour. 

“We’ve searched the entire house three times but unfortunately none of the objects we picked up gave any sign of psychical activity, the visitor hasn’t shown up yet and Mrs. Overton couldn’t give us more information. I’m not really sure what more we could do for now.” Bobby looked defeated. Or bored. Probably the latter, it was an exceptionally boring case. y/n was growing tired at the lack of action. It made her mad that someone could hire one of the best teams in London to take care of such a benign problem just because they had money and connections while hundreds of homes were threatened by harmful Type Twos and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Do I really have to tell you two how to do your jobs? Keep looking and take this seriously. I hope you realize who our client is, I can’t allow any mistake tonight.” Her authoritarian tone made y/n see why George disliked her. Clearly, they must have gotten into a few arguments on several occasions. But she couldn’t understand what would make him think that she could steal sources. She seemed to take her job very seriously. Sure, she was a pain but that didn’t mean she was a criminal.

“I’ve got something here! Bobby, y/n join me in the hall.” Kipps called.

They drew their rapiers and walked slowly into the hall. Kipps was looking at a corner where shadow had gathered. There was a faint, almost indistinguishable human shape lurking there. But it didn’t move, and it didn’t seem to want anything more than just stand there.

“I’m going to keep an eye on it while you two look for the source.” Kipps told them without averting his eyes from the dark figure.

“But what more can we do we looked everywhere already.” Bobby said with a sigh.

“Well,” Kipps turned to her. “y/n, got any ideas?”

She didn’t answer. She hadn’t heard them as she was lost in thought. Mrs. Overton hadn’t mentioned anything about the display cases here. But she should have. There were marks on the walls behind them, and again on the marble floor. It was a clear sign that bigger and heavier furniture had been removed to make room for new ones. That change alone could have triggered the ghost. And since they were behind glass, they hadn’t tested any of the objects on display. Though they were all Overton Watches so, clearly, they didn’t have anything to do with Mrs. Overton’s ancestors. Another dead end. She lingered in front of the central display, slowly losing hope. If such a ridiculously small case was too much for her, what was she even doing here? Sure, the two guys accompanying her weren’t inspired either, but she was disappointed in herself. She had dealt with dangerous situations without flinching, but a Lurker case was getting the best of her. That was embarrassing. She rested her hands on the case and looked down at the watches. There were four watches spread across a silk white sheet surrounding a bigger, more ancient clock. They didn’t seem that impressive. Why were people making such a big deal out of them? The clock on the other hand was more ornate and had required skilled craftmanship. The mechanism was apparent and intricate. It was still working which was most impressive. A golden crown rested delicately upon a mother-of-pearl dial, the needles moving steadily around. Right beneath the number 6 was engraved something almost unreadable. She squinted to see better. The initials EA were written in golden letters.

“I’ve found it! The source! It’s this clock right here!”

“Nice work y/n. Keep an eye on the ghost I’ll take care of the source.”

They switched position and she kept her eyes on the shadow as Kipps tried to get the clock out of the display.

“I can’t get to it, it’s locked. I’m gonna have to break the glass.”

“No! Don’t do that Mrs. Overton would be livid. Bobby go get Mrs. Dufour and Kipps don’t touch anything please.” She said with her back to them, her eyes still staring at the corner.

“Did you find the source? What is it?” Mrs. Dufour asked, suddenly in a hurry.

“We have reasons to believe this clock is the object causing Mrs. Overton trouble.”

“That’s really nice work Mr. Kipps congratulations.”

“I much appreciate your praise, but it has to go to y/n. She found the source. As we don’t have a key, I offered to break the glass, but y/n thinks it would upset our client.”

“Well thank you Miss y/n for using some common sense. We cannot break anything in this house.”

“We could drape a silver net over the case and come back in the morning to pick up the source.” She offered.

“I think it would be best. Thank you again for your prompt judgement here.”

“It was my pleasure.” She blushed. It was nice to have her efforts acknowledged, no matter how small. This supervisor might have been a stickler, but she recognized good work, it was enough to satisfy her. This case turned out pretty well after all.

[ego-osbourne]

Eye of the Universe as a Reflection of the Inhabitants, Nomai, and Hearthians (Theory)

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR OUTER WILDS AND ITS DLC ECHOES OF THE EYE UP AHEAD. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Also it’s a long read. Be warned.

I just had this thought after finishing the game + the DLC for the… third time now? Apologies for any mistakes going forward, but I wanted to put this into words.

For ease’s sake, I’m going to refer to the Inhabitants as Owlks going forward.

The Eye

We know this thing is quantum, ancient, and possibly sentient? Debatable last point, but I’m going to use that argument going forward. In that regard, we also know that the Eye (and pieces of it) reflect what’s around it.

We see this in the Quantum Moon, where it will reflect whatever planet it is orbiting at that time (it will also reflect the Eye itself despite it being more of an astral body than specifically a planet, but you get it). We also see this at the end of the game, where the Eye reflects aspects of Hatchy’s mind/consciousness (visions of the museum, Timber Hearth, the travelers, and other familiar faces and events such as the countless supernovas they’d seen, the anglerfish, the signalscope, etc etc).

That is the argument that I’m using in favor of the Eye’s sentience … or rather, it’s reflection of sentience. The eye reflects what is around it, and when something around it is sentient, it could reflect sentience back. So, like all things quantum about our ancient Eye, it’s sentience is only accounted for at a quantum level, only existing when there is a beholder with existence to reflect.

If you’re following me, it’s important to know what the eye isn’t doing: showing what the beholder wants to see. By mirroring sentience in the beholder, it might be easy to assume that the Eye can reflect what the beholder desires, but this would be wrong for the coming argument. By assuming that the Eye shows the beholder’s desires, it means that both the Owlks and the Nomai were duped in their decision to follow its signal; the Owlks destroyed their home in order to pursue the Eye, only for the Eye to show them that it brought death, and their decision to follow it was futile; similarly, the Nomai sought out the Eye, only for their entire clan to be wiped out by inhabiting its closest solar system, making their efforts, too, futile.

This would then mean that the Eye is malicious — by reflecting the beholder’s desire, it lures them in only to bring death and failure, when we know this isn’t the case. The Eye cannot be malevolent, but it also cannot be benevolent, because both would disregard it’s job as a mirror, a reflector. If it were either malevolent or benevolent, it would not be able to uphold its duty as a reflector, because a reflector with bias is a faulty tool. The Eye can only show what it has already been shown, even if this makes it seem biased, but seeming is not reality.

You may already see where I’m going with this, but my theory is that the Eye reflected the Owlks’, Nomai’s, and Hearthians’ societies as a whole, and in large, their fates. Here’s how:

The Owlks

The Eye casting out a signal was a neutral action. Whether it was simply its nature to emit a signal, or it had a desire to be seen, neither choice has any bias in it at its core. It is simply a neutral action. It did not warn the perceivers of danger, nor did it promise them salvation. The only thing the signal of the Eye did was evoke curiosity. We’ll see this in the Nomai as well, but first the Owlks.

The Owlks perceived the signal of the Eye and thought it to be fascinating — likely they were aware of the same facts as the Nomai were, that the Eye was timeless, ancient (possibly ageless or infinite), and mysterious. For curiosity’s sake alone, their people decided to create the Stranger, a giant space vessel that would take them to the Eye (with a constant signal, finding the Eye was likely an easier task to do than what the Nomai had to face). Unfortunately, in building the Stranger, the Owlks killed their planet and most (if not all) life on it besides themselves. With nothing else to turn back to, the hole was that the Eye would promise a new life, or at least anything but the death that they’d left in their wake.

Upon approaching the Eye, though, the mirror does what a mirror does best: reflects. Upon a closer viewing of the Eye, the Owlks saw destruction and death, because that is what the Eye saw in the Owlks. The Eye never necessarily promised death, nor did it hold some grand power, but that is how the Owlks interpreted it (likely because they did not recognize the Eye as a reflector). Horrified and angry, having destroyed their planet in perceived futility only to be met with more death, they covered the Eye’s signal and resided in its nearest solar system, having nowhere else to go, and missing home.

The Eye reflected the Owlks as destructive.

The Nomai

As previously mentioned, the Eye sending its signal was a neutral act. The Nomai perceived it and, fearing to never see it again, warped immediately without properly sending word to the other clans where they were going. The Nomai Vessel is then, of course, completely trapped within Dark Bramble (which we KNOW is malicious in nature, I’ll get to it). They enter the solar system scattered, and live the next few generations alone and lost. Try as they may to find the Eye through their string of amazing inventions and genius ideas, even risking the health and life of the solar system in the most moralistic ways possible (however moralistic blowing up the sun can be, at least), if only to discover where and what the Eye is, they are unable to. The signal is covered, and their inventions are useless in the face of limited energy.

Though the Eye could not physically offer the Nomai a signal if it wanted to, the reflection still stands. By not being able to communicate with the Nomai, the Eye reflects the loneliness, confusion, and desperation in the Nomai’s wanderlust. Unanswered questions, only faced with an unforeseeable (and likely inevitable) death by the ghost matter of the Interloper. The Nomai never got answers.

The Eye reflected the Nomai as lost.

The Hearthians

Finally, our optimistic blue bunch. The Hearthians as a group never encounter the Eye directly — they do not hear its signal, and the only interaction they have with it are practically ghost stories told through the history of the Nomai’s writings, which are largely only revealed to our dear Hatchy while they’re stuck in the time loop. And yet, even with the limited direct connection to the Heathians and the Eye, the Eye still reflects their fate in the coming end of the universe.

No matter how Hatchy plays their cards, no matter who they speak to, no matter what they discover, no matter how far they go, no matter what … the universe ends. This, ultimately, is of no fault of the Hearthians, nor is it of any fault of the Eye. But there’s that lingering thought about the Eye’s quantum nature … Follow me here.

Even though the Eye has a physical location upon being perceived, if it is ever unperceived, it will go unaffected by physical reality. Theoretically, each time the sun explodes without Hatchy perceiving it, the Eye is unaffected, and therefore, is unaffected by the universe ending — it is not destroyed, it is not harmed, if only because it does not exist. Until it is perceived again in the next 14.3 billion years, it will continue to not exist, but it will have lasted through the death of the universe, and countless universes before the last. Theoretically, if Hatchy were to get to the Eye (like we see at the end of the game) and cease perceiving it as the universe ends, and not perceive it until the next universe… Hatchy could live on.

This point can be expanded on a few different ways. Hatchy wouldn’t necessarily have to live for 14.3 billion years since they would become intertwined with the Eye’s quantum state — we see this in the Quantum Trial at the Ember Twin, where all one has to do is close themself off visually to the quantum piece and be physically connected to it in order to obtain a quantum state. This means that Hatchy would only exist with the Eye when it is being perceived, meaning so long as Hatchy does not perceive the Eye while on it (by simply closing their eyes, for example), they can live on the Eye until the next universe, where they could then thrive in their new home. They could also figure out a way to bring other Hearthians with them, possibly saving the species by un-existing just as the universe ends, and coming back into existence as another begins and something/someone else perceives them.

But this could never happen.

The Eye has seen the Hearthians and their solar system for so long. Within that solar system is Dark Bramble, the hungry planet. Born out of a carnivorous state, Dark Bramble only began as a seed which planted itself on the original, nameless planet that once orbited the sun. The seed grew, consuming the planet from the inside out, feasting on it to grow and grow until it exploded violently and destroyed the original planet, leaving nothing but remnants in its wake. Dark Bramble exists only to eat and feed, and it can only do this through vampiristic means, by feeding on the life forces of other planetary bodies. It does not stop after it has succeeded, either, always seeking out new victims, and never satisfied. We see this on Timber Hearth itself: a seed from Dark Bramble plants itself firmly into Timber Hearth, growing exponentially within the short timeframe that it had planted itself, unable to be cut, unable to be stopped.

The Eye sees this. The Eye realizes that Timber Hearth is doomed from the start. The Hearthians are doomed, no matter if the sun explodes or not, no matter if the universe lives or dies.

It is for that reason that the Eye cannot reflect anything other than death for Hatchy. No trick or plan can save them. The end comes for them at all corners. All Hatchy can do is find peace in that fact (which is what the game teaches us to do!).

The Eye reflected the Hearthians as death-bound. Not in any decision they made, and without fairness to their simple, honest lives. Simply, the Hearthians are the last. That is how it is. That is how it will always be. There is no fault to be found in them for that, but the Eye reflects anyway.

Final Thoughts

The Eye reflected the Owlks as destructive. The Eye reflected the Nomai as lost. The Eye reflected the Hearthians as death-bound.

And yet, in all of these examples, we see hope. Living counters to the concepts. Peace in the reality.

The Prisoner may have understood the Eye reflected his people’s recklessness, or he may not have. Either way, he knew that he could not let his people’s fears dictate the opportunities of others. He did not know that the Nomai or the Hearthians would exist, but by closing off the Eye’s signal, he understood that his people were negating something natural, and possibly something that was not as malicious as they thought. And so, he rebelled, breaking the shield and letting the signal free one last time. For it, he was eternally imprisoned by his people. He found comfort in his cage. He connected with a new guest. He made homages. He found peace in death. He likely regretted nothing.

Solanum grew up fearing the Eye’s intentions, pondering its possibilities, and ultimately concluding that it was not malicious or biased in any way. It simply existed, just as the Nomai did, with its own purpose. Once determined to find the Eye, Solanum grew to realize that finding it was not her biggest concern. Leave it to the others in her clan, but she had her own mission. She did not dismiss the Eye, either, but set on the path of others before her, embarking on the Quantum Trials to connect with her clan’s ancestors, to feel the presence of the Eye, and to be as close to it as she could. On the Quantum Moon, she is unaffected by time, unaware of the death of her clan, and unknowing of the impending doom of the universe, but the larger picture is unimportant to her in that moment. She is content in being so close to the Eye, knowing she may never arrive to it, but finding happiness in the collection of other Nomai who embarked on this journey before her, and even connecting to Hatchy, who embarked on the same journey she did.

Hatchy is a combination of both ideas, I’d say. Upon discovering the universe will die, and that there is no stopping it, they likely went through the same thoughts as we did while playing. How do I stop this? By ending the Ash Twin Project. The universe will end forever if I do. The time loops will still exist if no act is committed. Is that truly living? Repetition will never be a fulfilling form of living. What’s the point? And what is the point indeed?

The point is to live. To be given the opportunity to decide for yourself what you could do. To connect with what you have, not with what you can’t control. And when the end comes, to hope that you are content with what you’ve done. That is the point. The larger picture cannot be created without the small moments. The small moments mean nothing without the larger picture to collect them. You must have both. Both must reflect the other.

And so, the Eye does what the Eye does best. It reflects. It reflects the larger picture, and it reflects the smaller stories, and it reflects those that it interacts with, and it continues on to reflect those that it will encounter. All the perceivers must do is look in the mirror.

[topaz-witch-tea]

I know I already comment on the ao3 page, but like, I can't shut up about the new fic!!!! Mimi as usual is the best pet ever!! Like, Yas, Slay Queen!!! 😍😍🥰🥰 She maybe gentle and fluffy and adorable, but if you hurt her cub, or when she's out for your blood, then you better RUN!!

Oooh, this reminds me when you said Jing Yuan sulk when Yanqing became Mimi's fave, do you have any HC like this??? Like, I imagine Jing Yuan can't decide if he should be jealous that Mimi prefer to be with Yanqing more, or if he should be jealous that Yanqing prefer Mimi's cuddle than his XD

Thank you!!! Mimi is adorable and I’ve been wanting to write about Mimi for so long. She’s so cute and she adores her family so much!!!

Jing Yuan has spent so long being Mimi’s favorite that he isn’t sure how to cope with not being her favorite anymore. She would welcome him home every day and sit patiently by his side at the dinner table. Now, Mimi spent her days by Yanqing’s side. Sometimes she’ll go to Baiheng’s place when Yanqing is taken there and play with him there. Other times, she’ll wait for him to come back in the early afternoon. At dinner, she’ll enjoy her meal next to Yanqing’s high chair and follow him around until it is bedtime. If Jing Yuan wants Mimi’s attention, he’ll either have to call her or go to her. She will not leave of her own volition.

Yanqing also adores Mimi. Babies adore fluffy animals and Yanqing is no exception. Mimi was soft and attentive and can quickly pick up when Yanqing is going to cry, making it easy for her to soothe any temper tantrums. Sometimes, she’ll stick her nose in between the bars of the crib so Yanqing can know that she is there with him in the middle of the night. If Yanqing is sitting on the ground, sofa, or his parent’s bed, Mimi will jump lay her face on Yanqing’s lap and poke him in the stomach with her cold nose. This is a bit sad for Jing Yuan since Yanqing used to love curling up in his dad’s arm since his dad was always warm.

Jing Yuan starts sulking because he is no longer welcomed home by his fluffy cat nor is he sought out for hugs. It breaks his heart a bit when Yanqing crawls to Mimi for hugs instead of him or when Mimi ignores him entirely to join Yanqing. He does curl up in bed and doesn’t talk to anyone until his husbands start inquiring why he was in such a somber mood. He does the childish thing where he doesn’t say anything and instead just hugs his pillow and turn towards the wall. He feels guilty and a bit childish for being jealous of his pet and child. It reminds him of when he was younger and Yingxing and Dan Feng preferred the company of each other to him.

Yingxing manages to pry him out of his stupor with relentless teasing. Dan Feng on the other hand, is incredibly amused by it. With the little bit of prodding, Jing Yuan spills the whole thing while clutching his pillow. It remind Dan Feng and Yingxing about when Jing Yuan was younger and would look like a sad cat fished out of the river when he sullked. They found the whole thing terribly amusing and while no one was willing to pry Yanqing away from his new found friend, they did give Jing Yuan lots of cuddles to make up for it.

I always imagine him as someone who enjoy physical contact. He loves to pet and pick up Mimi. He prefers to carry Yanqing around rather than put him in a carrier. Yanqing still loves being picked up by JIng Yuan and he finds him warm and comfortable but Mimi is much quicker and shorter, so it’s much easier for Yanqing to reach her.

Thank you for the ask! I really enjoyed answering it! It was so, so CUTE!!!

[nothorses]

https://at.tumblr.com/handweavers/705681979526594560/tjmzqbr52y2g

I just saw this post and... is this really how many people think? That the transandrophobia movement is associated with terf recruitment?? I'm genuinely asking because i try to stay out of drama and the logic is near incomprehensible to me

damn can this person tell the TERFs in my inbox & notes that they're supposed to love me and never harass me or want me dead??

There's so much wrong with that post, and honestly the claim that TERFs never hate trans men/mascs is, itself, dangerously false.

Like. If that's the case, what the fuck is this then?

The common argument here is that TERFs must believe trans women are the ones doing the "seducing", but that's patently not true, either: ROGD ("Rapid-Onset Gender Dysphoria) is the idea that trans men "infect" "young girls" with our icky tranny disease, manipulating them into believing they must be trans as well. Abigail Shrier outright states this in Irreversible Damage, and namedrops multiple big-name transmasc YouTubers and public figures as the people responsible for "tricking" "young girls" into believing they're trans.

TERFs don't just want to manipulate us into detransitioning- which is already, by the way, a form of incredible violence- they want us to stop existing. When manipulation fails, they turn to violence: corrective rape is not uncommon, and neither is physical violence. Those of us who can't be "saved" must die, lest we infect anyone else.

Transfems are exactly as capable of being TERFs. Transfems who join that movement are being abused and subject to violence and manipulation; it isn't a good deal for them. It's also not a good deal for transmascs. But yes, both groups are capable of calling themselves TERFs, and finding nominal "acceptance" in the form of TERFs weaponizing them against other trans people- all while pressuring them to detransition.

The reason it happens more often with transmascs is because the way TERFs target us is different, which is itself a manifestation of the difference between transmisogyny and transandrophobia. Transfems are not generally actively sought out the way transmascs who can be "saved" are, but they can, and have, fallen into TERFism regardless.

Anyway. The reason they claim our movement is "associated with ex-TERFs" is because I made a post, like, two years ago talking about how, when I was 16, I found out I was following a TERF on Facebook, immediately blocked her, and self-reflected out of guilt and fear for years afterward.

She hadn't spoken about trans women before; it was only when I brought them up to her that I found out that the "men" she was talking about included trans women.

I brought this up in my post to talk about how TERF ideas often fly under the radar, and to encourage people to reflect on "man bad" ideas; because radical feminism itself is inherently tied to TERFism, and leads into TERF ideology, even if you never think of it as being About Trans Women.

TERFs often recruit through exclusionary and reactionary movements that seem unrelated to trans people, or to trans women specifically. We've seen it with the "ace discourse" most notably, but it's happened before, and it continues to happen now. The pervasive myth that TERFs only hate trans women, and that TERFism is only when feminists hate trans women, is directly beneficial to TERF recruitment.

Recognizing TERF ideology outside of "trans women bad" helps us cut off TERF recruitment before it can actually start. And people like this- who demand we ignore TERF ideas unless they explicitly name trans women- are directly aiding TERF recruitment.

[shenglingyuan]

title: into each life, some rain must fall (ao3) pairing: togame jo/endo yamato summary: Who else would understand the woes of a worshipper better than a devotee? When both their god and idol are unreachable as the sun in the sky, mere humans must make do with each other. AU where everything is the same except there is no Sakura. Thus, Choji is still an asshole, Togame’s still doing the dirty work, Bofurin and Shishitoren aren’t friends, so when Endo planned Takiishi’s birthday on Furin’s rooftop, Shishitoren didn't come to help. This happens after the Umemiya vs Takiishi fight.

Endo’s feet led him to a distant street on the far end of town, where traditional houses seemed to have frozen in time. He really didn’t have any destination in mind. After seeing the beauty and glory that was Takiishi as he fought Umemiya, falling to the ground, faces too close for comfort, a cold, sticky feeling wrapped around Endo’s mind like a thick miasma, clouding all over his rational thoughts. He left before anyone could notice – not that any of them was paying attention him.

The tattoo on his shoulder burned as he walked aimlessly, and he clawed at it, nails digging into muscle and skin as if he could remove this eternal mark of foolishness in one swift pull.

Maybe he could.

“What are you doing here?”

In all the noise within his mind and outside with the pouring rain, Endo didn’t realize he arrived and knocked at a house he’d been to exactly once in his life. Endo was a genius, after all, memorizing maps was child’s play. But this certain information could not have come from the depths of his muddled brain.

Beyond the door, a Togame clothed in a loose shirt eyed him with a deep frown.

“Can’t I drop by for a visit?”

It’s a little beyond midnight. No reasonable man drops for a visit at such ungodly hour.

“You look like shit.” And supposedly, no reasonable man accepts a visitor at such time either. “Come in.”

Endo didn’t have to be shown the way, his wet feet knew to lead him to the kitchen. His hand knew to pull a chair, and his body knew to sit his ass, taking space in the house as if it was his. Its rightful resident followed closely behind, placing a glass of water before him.

“Did Takiishi finally beat you up enough that you’d come find me again?”

“Not physically, no.” Endo guzzled down the water, only realizing then how thirsty he was despite being drenched in the rain. The cold drained down his throat and spread from his stomach through his bones. Snakes are cold-blooded. They obtain their warmth from their surroundings. Takiishi’s fire has just been that for him. But now, the rain has seemed to douse it. Endo had overstayed his welcome to bask on that heat, the frost has started to seep into his being.

“Umemiya?”

The mention of the name cut deep into his thoughts.

“How did you know?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Was it the same for you?”

“Maybe.”

Endo looked up at the other man. Togame’s leaning back on his chair, as if to put as much distance between the two of them. But it’s useless, because whenever they meet like this, there was only one way things conclude.

“Your hair’s grown much longer.”

Togame’s hand came up to comb through his mess of waves which now fell to his collar bone. The last time Endo’s fingers weaved through those locks, they were only down to his lobes. It’s been a while.

“You should clean up. You don’t wanna get sick,” Togame stood up then, his broad back stiff and straight. “I’ll leave a towel and clothes by the door.”

Endo didn’t need to be told twice.

There was already a silent understanding between the two of them, borne from numerous rendezvous and encounters: if either of them sought to satiate their physical needs, then they would meet, to fill each other’s emptiness in the night, and part ways even before the sun could rise. Who else would understand the woes of a worshipper better than a devotee? When both their god and idol are unreachable as the sun in the sky, mere humans must make do with each other.

Upon stepping out of the bathroom, Endo immediately headed for the bedroom. Like how it had always been. Togame’s next to the window, his eyes transfixed at the rain that was yet to stop, perhaps recalling a not-so-distant past. Must each of their every heartbreak be accompanied by a downpour? Yielding to some irrational thought within his muddled brain, Endo made his way to Togame, snaked his arms around his waist, and leaned all his weight against his broad back.

Togame froze at the sudden contact. “I thought you’re the one who needs comforting.”

“I’m not comforting you, bastard.”

The name-calling relaxed Togame. His taut muscles loosened up around Endo’s hold. Then, as his hands found its way along the length of Endo’s arm, he asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

A scoff escaped Endo’s lips. “When do I ever go here to talk?”

“Never.” With what sounded like a sigh, Togame turned around and easily captured Endo’s mouth in his. No segues, no prologues. Endo reciprocated in kind, his hands grabbing the hem of Togame’s shirt and taking it off, messing up Togame’s already disheveled hair.

There wasn’t much difference between their heights, and thus Endo could readily see the other man’s eyes – a gaze so piercing and tender at the same time that Endo almost wanted to cover those eyes at that moment. All his nights shared with Togame were all but to satisfy their physical needs as their hearts were stepped on by the people they cared for, they yearned for…and yet, in those eyes a much warmer green than his own, Endo felt something different. It wasn’t affection per se, nor was it pity.

Before any more thoughts could form, Endo kissed Togame again, harder and greedier, attempting to drown out everything else. But to his surprise, Togame’s hand that came up his hair lightly yanked him away, leaving his mouth empty.

“Let me set the pace tonight.” It was an order, delivered in a low and commanding tone. The same voice he uses to herd the rowdy men of Shishitoren. The same voice he uses when he’s already buried deep into Endo, guiding him with words as Endo is unraveled from being fucked by Togame’s sizable length, shattering all his sense of reality if not for that voice. It was new to hear Togame like this so early in their night together. Endo’s breath hitched, his body reacting to the absence of what should have been happening when it hears this voice. “Don’t think about anything. Or anyone else.”

Togame brought their mouths together once more, but this time, it’s much slower, more deliberate. As if every inch of Endo’s lips were worth tasting and trying, no corner untouched. There was something unnerving with the way Togame kissed him, bit him, as if every nibble dug deep into his core and unearthed a sense of longing he had buried. Something mildly electrifying in the way Togame’s calloused palms traced the skin underneath his clothes, chasing the chill of the rain away, from his hips to his chest until he’s also taking off the useless shirt he shouldn’t have worn in the first place. Togame’s hands and lips return to where they left off, now both making their way to the crook of his neck where his pulse was drumming against his pale skin – Togame’s mouth found the exact spot and he kissed it, kissed it as a devotee would to his idol. Endo sighed at the warmth that spread from that corner to the rest of his body – was this how it felt like to be worshipped, when every piece of you was treated like a statue displayed on a holy altar? Togame had never made him feel this before. Nobody did.

A step back – Endo’s leg hit the edge of the bed, and he let himself fall, bringing Togame down with him. The fall broke them apart for a moment, their ragged breathing filling the silence. Togame hovered over him, his hair down like two black velvet curtains, eyes fixed on Endo’s face, but also at something that seemed so far away. Togame raised a hand, cupped Endo’s right cheek, thumb caressing a spot Endo didn’t know hurt until Togame touched it. Then Endo remembered – it was where Takiishi struck when he held him back from hitting Umemiya at the school grounds. Endo thought Togame would comment on it. In fact, Endo would have talked about it already even before Togame would say a thing.

That’s how they were always before.

But this time, Endo didn’t talk, Togame didn’t ask.

Togame bent down and kissed his cheek, then traced down more kisses down his jaw, his neck, his chest, his torso, his hips…Endo felt so much reverence and care behind each warm sensation along his body, so agonizingly tender in the way Togame’s hands slid down along the edges of his body as if he was a sculpture being reborn. And when Togame’s mouth finally wrapped around his length, Endo finally let all sorts of thoughts go. For this night, in this humble room made of wood, for a few hours stolen from the depth of the night, for somebody else, Endo was finally, finally, someone.

When the rain has subsided, and the first few rays of the morning sun painted the twilight sky with fiery streaks, Endo found himself waking up in the same room. His eyes fell on Togame’s sleeping form, hands itching to reach out and tuck the curtain of hair that got stuck on Togame’s mouth behind his ears. So, this was how he looked in the mornings.

But before a single muscle of his could move, Togame’s green eyes came into view behind those hooded lids. It took a while for him to completely wake up, his eyes blinking slowly as if unsure if he was looking at an apparition or what. When their completely sober gazes met, Togame’s eyes widened in honest surprise.

“You’re still here.” Not a question.

“I’m still here.” A statement.

Never had they seen each other when dawn breaks after their nights have run its course. They weren’t like this before.

“Are…you staying for breakfast?”

But maybe, from now on…

“I can do that.”

[glamorous-astrology]

So your a Witch and you have a problem with routines or suffer from chronic overthinking

Listen when I say my executive dysfunction and anxiety can be quite devastating to any form of action I mean it from the bottom of my ✨soul✨ but when it comes to a witchy routine... Oof. These are some tips and tricks I've learned and figured I'd share it with you. Remember this is based off of my personal experience, what works for one person does not automatically work for another!

So first piece of advice in the fight against these unfaltering foes!

Don't fight em.

WAIT!! Hear me out!

Somedays you just can't do ✨the thing✨ i promise you your spirit team loves you and understands and while procrastinating is the enemy of achievement taking breaks and rest are it's allies. Now don't put if off for too long, maybe set a specific date or time to do it and stick to your word. If you make a promise to yourself you must endeavor to keep it. Life happens, it's unfair but you must at least be fair to yourself and to quote Mister Meeseeks "Follow Through!!" This doesn't just apply to witchy based activities either. Sometimes the urge to just not, is your bodies request for something else.

I have so many unread books I don't even know where to start and depsite all the unfinished books on my shelf I want to have more and I really shouldn't be buying more but -

First step when things get overwhelming is to breath.

Secondly you don't have to read all those books today, tomorrow or ever.

It's also okay to just have books and not finish them. I love to collect books. They may call me a horder(they being the anxiety based court that constantly judges my actions) but you'd call me a librarian if I let the public read borrow em, sooooo. Some people collect teapots that aren't even useable but I don't judge them for it. (I kind of do but only a little bit! But that's because I like my teapots pretty yes but you see-)

Speaking of Libraries!

I love the library so much guys! Please please please support your local libraries! They have so many helpful resources, I honest to Gods could make a whole other post about why libraries are important but! ✨ Focus is a must ✨

Your local library may already have that book you wanna buy, if they don't libraries are connected to a network and depending on where you live your local library can actually get books from pretty far away, sometimes they can even go out of network and into another and the cool thing is in the bookstore I can check of my library has it and save my self a pretty penny.

✨ IMPORTANT! ✨

Maybe despite how well written it is, or how enjoyable you find it you find yourself stopping halfway through. Maybe the stopping point isn't the end of the book. The knowledge you'd sought and needed might have been found and who knows maybe later you will finish it but beating your own ass about it ain't going to help. Take your time, knowledge is power but unused knowledge is a precious waste of time and space for your beautiful brain.

I have this spell I wanna do but there's so much I need to do in order for it to-

Pause

Make the spell simpler.

Yep! Not every powerful spell needs to include sage and cinnamon in order to work. Sustainable witchcraft is important. If you don't have the energy, time or money to make your spell all fancy smansy then don't. You're creative and wise, the intent behind the spell is most important and creating your own method using what you have/can afford is not only creative it shows intent. Witchcraft is not there to stress you out or be judged. The only standard for witchcraft is intent. For example! My first spell changed my life and I made it all fancy smansy, I'm talking the full nine yards I had a special knife, fancy fruit, candles, chanting, moon water, I went big sense I refused to go home. My last life changing spell included my tarot deck and a piece of paper, while I drank my morning tea. It's not just the what you're doing when it comes to spells and rituals it's about mindset. Life's already hard enough, have fun with your spiritual practice!

I feel so weighed down, and tired and I just can't find the energy to do a daily ritual but I really want to start one!

That's okay!

I'm exhausted too and also wish to have more routines but you gotta start.

My ideal routine is morning tarot, cup of tea, and meditation. Some weeks I'm up every morning, drinking tea, doing a quick tarot reading, going on walks, just taking in the day before getting started.

Some weeks I sleep through all 6 of my alarms, don't have time to pack a lunch let alone do some tarot and go on a walk!

Routines are there to help build structure in your life, not rigid cages you must appease.

Some weeks, some days, some times you honestly can't be bothered. That's okay but that just means when you can be bothered you do. My tarot decks are sassy as hell to me about it tbh. I'll do my morning tarot or I won't but they understand. But if I have the time and energy later on in the week and just don't? That quick three card reading I was gonna do with my coven mates just become 26 cards plus two Oracle decks (I'm exaggerating a teenie bit but it feels like a lot sometimes) and you know what, that's okay. Your deck is just catching you up on all the knowledge you've missed! You'll make time for tarot, it's not a scheduled appointment, it's supposed to be a meeting between equals.

I'm pretty sure I've gotten off track but to show you the sum my knowledge or TLDR as you young whippersnappers are saying these days.

Basically, be kind and patient with yourself as you establish your routines and find what works for you. Remember your best today might not ne your best tomorrow. Some days the best I can do is drink my cup of tea as I drive down the highway, other times its that nice meditatve walk.

Find what works for you, day to day, hour to hour and remember be kind yourself. You're not just a meat suit who needs to accomplish everything and anything right here right now, your stardust that deserves to enjoy and cherish those happy experiences that can find you if you step out of judgement and into self love.

Remember this is just my personal experience, and you can take it with a grain of salt, a speck of sugar or just toss it over your shoulder.

I'm exhausted since sleep is a elusive mistress that likes to come and go but I hope this makes sense and maybe helps you enjoy your day a little bit more.

~Admin Cryptid

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight II Chapter One

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3116

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No. You weren't hunting Haruchiyo... I mean... Yes, you were trying to follow him, but not to arrest him. You worked in Investigation Department 1, not in 4, and you usually dealt with murders, kidnappings, violent crimes, as well as sexual ones. So, gangs weren't your thing. 

Despite being a member of various gangs in your youth and taking part in their crimes, you were never caught or given a record. 

You frowned. 

No. You were caught once, when you were still in Valhalla. Luckily, you ran into a good friend of your father's, and he let you go. To this day, you haven't been able to find out what Kenzou said, or did that made you manage to get out of the situation completely unscathed, but after that one time, you tried almost everything to avoid getting caught again. 

Some people labeled you an informer, but you've never ratted anyone out in your life. If it were otherwise, you would definitely have continued down that path and joined Department 4. You would have sought revenge on those types, but your mother had raised you well, at least in that regard. Revenge is good when it's deserved, but dedicating your life to just that one aspect is devastating. 

You calmly looked through the material collected in the folder dedicated to Sanzu and slowly, very carefully looked at all the photographs and short videos taken on phone. 

Slowly, one by one, memories appeared in your head, and you knew that you had collected all this material yourself. When had you found the time and opportunity to follow the gangster? You had no idea. Most of them came from various nightclubs and you could clearly see that he was in the company of other Bonten members, such as the Haitani brothers, Kokonoi or Manjiro Sano himself. 

Your heart was beating faster when in some photos and video clips you saw that the pink-haired man's eyes were looking almost at the same spot you were standing at at that moment, as if he had a feeling that he was being watched. However, you couldn't remember anyone ever catching you doing that, which was sometimes hard to believe, especially considering the fact that cellphone cameras had a rather loud sound. 

You looked at the file count marker and asked yourself a question. Were 10,452 files in a password-protected folder about only one person already an obsession? Probably not, because your thoughts were also revolving around different people. 

You looked up when you caught a glimpse of a woman passing by in the open doorway, carrying two small pots of green houseplants in both hands. 

For example, you often thought about Emi. About the woman who held the place in your heart right after Sanzu... 

You blinked a few times. She held the second place... 

You snorted quietly, remembering the last words Sanzu had said to you. 

"If you try to get in my way again, L/n, I'll kill you. If you're not with Mikey, then you're against him. Against me." 

Of course you weren't against him, and you weren't against Mikey either. You were against the darkness that was increasingly taking over the blond gang leader. You didn't join him to get into even bigger shit than Valhalla. 

Why did Takemichi have to leave? 

"Takemichi Hanagaki..." You mumbled, and then memories from twelve years ago hit you. 

“L/n? Y/n L/n? Can I talk to you?” You heard a breathless boy behind you. 

You were just coming back from the store with some groceries that your older sister, Mai, had asked you to do. You turned around and saw a blonde-haired idiot who made a fool of himself often. 

“Hanagaki? What's wrong?” You asked and the boy straightened up, finally getting his breathing under control. 

“I know you're friends with Haruchiyo Sanzu and...” 

“What do you want from him?” You frowned, feeling irritated. 

“No... Not from him...” The boy was confused. “It's just that...” He looked away for a split second and you carefully followed his gaze in the same direction, as if expecting to see someone else there. “L/n, I know you won't give up on him.” 

“Huh?” You looked at the blond again. He surprised you with that. 

“I got that impression from our earlier conversation...” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Hanagaki? This is our first conversation.” 

“Uh... I mean, I've talked to you before, but that'll be later...” 

“Takemichi...” 

“Do you believe in time travel? You see... Please don't tell anyone about this.” 

“Takemichi...” 

“Please, promise me you'll keep it to yourself.” 

You looked at his face, so determined, that you nodded and swallowed harder. 

“I'm a time-leaper, and I know that because of Haruchiyo Saznu, you'll join Bonten. It won't end well for you...” 

“Takemichi...” You said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“Yes?” 

“Have you been taking any drugs?” 

The guy blinked in surprise and laughed nervously. “Funny. See, you asked me that question during our conversation in the future.” He turned serious again and you had a strange feeling that the guy wasn’t bluffing at all. “Fulfill your first dream and join the police, L/n.” 

“I’m going to follow Sanzu and Mikey further. You wouldn’t understand.” You started to turn around to continue your walk home, but the boy’s next words made you freeze. 

“Join the police. There will be a series of murders in the future, and you will serve them both better as a criminal investigator.” 

You looked at him more carefully. Being on the side of law and justice, you would actually have more opportunities to protect your friend. In this way, you could protect someone you loved. A similar thought had already appeared in your head once or twice. 

You decided to do so, but you didn't foresee one thing. Sanzu took it as a betrayal and didn't let you elaborate on your thought. He didn't let you explain anything more. It's just that the day you decided to tell him, you got into his terrible mood. You were unlucky, but because of your stubbornness, you decided to continue on your newly chosen path in life. 

You protected him as much as you could, although there was a very high probability that he didn't know about it. You risked not only your career for him, but also your freedom, and he, as was his habit after every drug intake, behaved like a young god and risked more and more. 

"Sweetheart?" You heard a muffled voice of a woman, as if it came from outside, and you closed the folder you were browsing. 

"Yes?" 

"Could you help me, please?" 

You got up from behind your desk and headed in the direction from which, as you thought, you heard the woman's voice. You entered the living room, which was adjacent to the room in which you had set up a small office, and smiled gently. 

Behind the closed window, you saw an embarrassed Emi, who was standing on a small balcony and pointing her finger at the door handle. You opened it and checked the mechanism. 

"Thank you..." She said as she went inside and you laughed shortly, hugging her to you with one hand. 

"I'll try to do something about it soon, and you... My sweet dove, when you go out on the balcony, try to block the door with a chair, because it will slam shut again, and you know that winter is coming." You kissed her on the forehead. "I wouldn't like to come home from work and find an icicle on the balcony." 

"I keep forgetting about it." She grumbled, pointing to the door casually and snuggling closer to you. “What would I do without you, hmm?” 

“What would I do without you, my love.” You kissed her on the cheek. “You saved my life.” 

“Not at all.” 

“Of course you did. If you hadn’t taken me in, my colleagues would have continued to laugh at me... It would have led to depression and who knows how it would have ended.” 

“Y/n. You just dedicated yourself to your work, and the fact that they go to Love Hotels with different girls only says something about them, not you. You’re a decent guy.” 

A decent guy... 

She snuggled closer to you, gently stroking your back with her small hands. 

“You remember that we’re having dinner with my parents tomorrow, right?” 

Damn it... 

“Do we have to?” You groaned, closing the balcony door. “You know they don’t like me.” 

“I don’t understand why. They wanted me to start dating someone from work...” 

“They probably meant some lab technician, not an investigator...” 

“Not true.” She looked at you. 

“Your father thinks I’m a wimp because I often offer to help your mother.” You pursed your lips, feigning offense. “And your mother doesn’t like me because she thinks I think she’s weak because of it.” 

“Not at all.” Emi was slightly outraged. “I already told them that’s how you were raised. To respect women.” 

“I’m a mama’s boy, Emi.” 

“Not at all.” She slapped your ass, completely surprising you and you looked down, straight into her beautiful, bright eyes. Her well-groomed brows were furrowed. “Say that again and you’ll get it again.” 

“You will spank me again?” You said with amusement, smiling mysteriously. 

“Oh, I know you want this.” Her hands slowly slid down your ass and her fingers gently tightened around them. You bit your lower lip gently, feeling the desire awakening inside you and the woman stretched her tempting lips into a mischievous smirk. “You like that, huh? Pervert.” 

“Oh, come on, a pervert.” You mumbled, leaning in to kiss her, but she stopped you by placing a finger on your lips. 

“You won’t get anything until you finish painting the bedroom.” She said with a serious face and you sighed dramatically. 

“I’ve never dealt with a woman as cruel as you, Emi.” 

“Of course you have. It’s just a different kind of cruelty.” 

“Who?” 

“Ko-chan.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment and pulled away, letting your girlfriend get back to her task and nodded. 

Well, yes. Tomoko. She worked in Department 4 and always treated you like a common brat. Her anger towards you deepened after your father died a year ago. She claimed that you were pushing your old man too hard, trying to get more information about Yuji out of him. He was sick and you were poking holes in his stomach with another series of questions. 

You knew you should let it go and let him rest, but you couldn't. You also knew that Tomoko was also aware of the seriousness of the whole situation, but... 

You went back to the bedroom and cleared the two futons off the floor, neatly putting them away in the closet where they belonged. You took out the unnecessary items and opened the can of paint you had started. Time to get back to work. You'd send a report to your superior later and maybe tonight... 

"I knew this would motivate you, lazybones." The woman laughed, peeking into the room. 

You looked at her questioningly, knowing perfectly well what she was talking about, and she shook her head. 

"I won't bother you anymore, honey." 

You went back to painting the walls, feeling a pleasant tingle in the bottom of your spine at the thought of the woman's earlier words. She kept her word, and you knew perfectly well that you weren't the only one who wanted a bit of fun. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silence. 

Stay silent. 

But how to do this? While your sweet girlfriend happily bounced on your hard cock, riding you like a pro. Like your bodies were made for each other? 

You kept your hands on her hips, gently trying to direct her movements to a slightly different angle, but you knew it wasn't time for that yet. Emi knew exactly what she was doing. She always knew better. 

“Fuck…” It slipped out of your mouth before you could bite it and she slapped you on the chest, falling more violently onto your hips, which caused the head of your penis to dig harder into that sweet spot hidden deep inside her soft, hot core. “Emi…” 

“Shhh… Or the neighbors will hear.” 

“Let them hear…” You wanted to say, but you fell silent. 

The woman’s movements became faster and less regular, and you knew that a little longer and she would tighten her walls around your member, which was eagerly awaiting this moment to explode, bringing a wave of pleasure. 

“Y/n...” She whispered through a slightly constricted throat and her body shivered as she tilted her head back with her mouth open. 

You held her hips in place, pressing yours against her ass with all your might, in such a way as to enter her as deeply as possible. The walls of her vagina tightened around you, causing you to ejaculate, which made a blissful emptiness appear in your head. 

The blonde sighed quietly and fell onto your chest, gluing your bodies together for a moment with a layer of sweat. You stroked her trembling thighs and back and kissed her reddened lips. 

“I love you, Emi...” You whispered tenderly into her ear, and she smiled at you gently, looking into your face from under narrowed eyelids. “You burned a lot of calories today, you can eat a donut tomorrow.” 

Her hand smacked your shoulder. “You’re awful, Y/n.” 

She slid off of you and laid down on her futon, which was right next to yours. 

“You’re downright cruel.” 

“Come on, love.” You said, catching her in an embrace and pulling her back to you. You gently stroked her stomach, which was pleasantly soft under your fingers. “You know I love you the way you are.” 

“I’m not your stress ball.” She grumbled quietly, but laughed when you started tickling her. “Awful.” 

You mumbled into her ear, nuzzling your face into her neck and wrapping your arms around her even tighter. Her hands stroked your shoulders tenderly. 

“I love you. I mean it.” You said quietly in a gentle tone. “You are important to me. I will do anything for you.” 

“I know…” She replied just as quietly. “I love you too, Y/n.” 

It wasn’t long before the woman fell into a peaceful sleep. 

You watched her beautiful face, illuminated by the moonlight that crept through the poor quality blinds that were left by the previous owner of the apartment. Her long, thick eyelashes, so similar and completely different from Haruchiyo’s... 

You pursed your lips and looked somewhere into space. 

This time, there was no Emiko Miura or Sanzu in your private life. You broke up with the girl after less than a year, even before you left Toman with Mucho and Sanzu, and she disappeared from your life forever, which meant one thing. Yuuta did not exist. 

He had never been a victim of molestation, there would never be a chance that he would join a gang. His existence was simply completely erased. You had no children, no wife... You had a clean slate and you did not know whether to be happy about it or regret it. 

Sure, you had Emi, with whom you were happy and even thought about proposing to her, because she brought light into your life, but... 

You had once brought up the subject with her several times and she confessed your fears to you. She knew that you wanted to become a father in the future, and she would not be able to give you a child. She was infertile. Irreversibly. You did not try to find out why, because you could see that it was not a pleasant subject for the lesser. 

You always ended these types of conversations by saying that you could always adopt a child or a dog... Because really, there wasn't much difference, was there? She knew you were joking, to break the tension that was building, but there was a glint in her eyes that you didn't like and it made you uneasy. 

You didn't want Emi to leave. You didn't want to be alone again. 

“Too warm…” She mumbled in her sleep and you released her from your embrace, letting her pull away and turn her back to you. 

You looked at the outline of her body for a moment and, restraining yourself from touching your girlfriend again, you turned away from her in the same way and turned your gaze to the window, suddenly feeling a strange emptiness in your soul. 

At least you could pass on at least a little bit of your love to your own niece. Natsuko was Mai's only child, who had come into this world shortly before your sister's divorce. The girl was now eight years old and eagerly awaiting the birth of her little brother. 

Mai had remarried her old crush, with whom she had managed to renew contact at least a year earlier. Although one of your mother's three children had somehow managed to arrange its life and was truly happy. 

You missed the feeling of holding a small child close to your heart. Protecting his delicate head that almost completely fit in both hands. Those soft hairs... You wanted to watch the little one develop and start making mischief for the first time, day after day. How he clenched his little fists around objects, learning about the world... 

You carefully got up from the futon and left the living room, where you and Emi were going to sleep that night, to avoid another potential poisoning from the fumes from the drying paint in the bedroom and went to the bathroom to take a shower. You knew you wouldn't be able to fall asleep anytime soon, so you decided to occupy your thoughts with something else. 

Coming back from the bathroom, you looked into the living room once more and seeing your partner fast asleep, you slid the door shut and went to your small office, where you sat down at your small desk and started your laptop. 

You instinctively opened the folder dedicated to Sanzu and started looking through the photos again. You began to wonder if the man still used that perfume, you liked so much and remembered from when you were both part of Tenjiku. 

A fragrance that drowns in the darkness created by the spring evening... 

You even managed to find and buy one bottle, but you kept it in your desk, away from Emi's eyes. You pulled it out and opened it, gently inhaling the scent of flowers, cedarwood, and sandalwood, and your heart thumped harder, demanding Haruchiyo Sanzu's presence in your life again. 

No. It wasn't an obsession. It was longing. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[all-things-ghostly]

Soulmate AU Shorts for the Hatboxes x Reader 🩶🩵

Right off the bat I’m so sorry it’s taking me so long to post chapter 2 of Soul Ties y’all, I’ve been working on it every day it’s just that I’m getting into my own head about how it’s written and the word flow and such and it’s taking me a while to get it done. Luckily I’m almost at the end of it so it should be out soon but until then here’s some fun concepts since I love those slightly dystopian soulmate AUs

Red String of Fate

Alistair: Personally, he could not care less about the string tied around his finger. If anything, he found it to be a nuisance. Alistair didn’t care about love because it’s something he never knew. He never sought you out, he never expected you to come. It’s not like he could leave the mansion either way, so he simply stayed put and ignored its very existence.

Other people in the mansion had mixed opinions on it. Some of the ghosts viewed it as a sign of hope - they prayed for the day his soulmate came along, hoping maybe it would soften some part of his cold, dead heart. Others shuddered at the thought of Alistair having a soulmate, fearing that anyone that he could possibly be attracted to would be just as wretched as him.

Then one day, much to everyone’s surprise, you actually come along. And everybody except Alistair realizes you’re the one. Only when it’s too late and he already has you pinned beneath him, hand raised and ready to claw your throat out, does he notice that the string around his ring finger connects right to yours. The slits that are his pupils dilate and he just stares at it, trying to process everything, especially the fact that he almost just killed his own soulmate. The mix of complex emotions overwhelm him so much that he can’t bear to be there anymore and runs away.

Hatty: Hatty was overjoyed when he woke up one day and saw the string for the first time (you were born long after he died, so the string only formed once you came into existence and were old enough). He had gone over a century without ever having one and therefore just believed he had no soulmate. But no, here it was. Here it really was. Then… that excitement turns to nervousness. You’re probably going to think he’s a complete loser! I mean, look at him—he lives in an attic, a messy one at that, he’s short and he’s shy and not to mention slightly awkward. He’s going to make a complete fool out of himself. So Hatty hides out in that attic until he just can’t take it anymore and the curiosity eats him alive.

In an instant, it’s just like he flees overnight and was never even there in the first place. Escaping through the attic window, Hatty sets out on a long journey to follow his string until he finds you. It takes quite a long time to get to you, but as he rides on trains, walks through busy streets, and sits under the stars, he thinks of exactly what he’ll say when meeting you for the first time. Something so smooth and cool that you’ll just completely ignore all of the things he deemed “negative” about himself and find him absolutely irresistible. It’s a fool-proof plan.

Then, after a long, long while of traveling, he finally finds you.

This is it. Hatty checks himself in the reflection of a window, straightens his posture to look bigger (which… honestly doesn’t do that much) and starts strutting over with the most confidence he could ever exude. The whole thing reminds you of a male peacock. He taps you on the shoulder to get your attention, and when you turn around and look at him…

It all falls apart.

He’s just absolutely stunned by you. How you look, your energy, just… everything about you. And suddenly all that confidence just falls apart. He opens his mouth to try and say that totally awesome thing he had come with, but it just comes out as the most incomprehensible, stuttering babble ever. Immediate embarrassment overcomes him. He really fucked this up. Hatty covers his face to hide himself, scared to see your reaction, but then… you start laughing. It’s not a mocking laugh. Instead, it’s the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard. He peeks through his fingers to look at you, and instead of the disgusted expression he thought he’d see, he sees your loving smile.

Hatty’s right. He’s a loser.

But that’s what you like about him.

Color Blind AU (You can’t see color until your soulmate touches you)

Alistair: You and Alistair were childhood friends. Well, sort of. His father didn’t want him to be hanging out with “the commoners” so to speak, so he wouldn’t let Alistair visit you in person. However, you would always talk to each other through the windows of your houses when no one else was looking. The two of you had even trained a pigeon to deliver letters to each other.

Then the news spreads throughout the whole society.

Almost very suddenly, his mother has passed away.

Everyone who lives under Addison attends the funeral, including you and your family. Of course, you aren’t allowed to get very close to the front. Those spots were saved only for close family and the extremely wealthy. But you could still hear everything from the back. You noticed that not even halfway through, there were some quiet sobbing sounds coming from the front. They were Alistair’s.

It only got louder and sadder as the funeral progressed. The cries went on for over half an hour without stopping and only got worse when he and his father walked up to view her in the casket. And yet, you noticed that nobody did anything. They had all been whispering amongst themselves in a judgmental tone. You even saw Addison grab Alistair by the wrist and hiss something into his ear at one point.

Eventually, you decide that if no one else is going to help him, you will. You start walking away from your family and rush down the aisle to get to Alistair in the front. One of your parents tries to stop you out of concern, but you don’t listen. Despite everyone’s piercing stares, you fearlessly walk right up to Alistair and wrap him in the biggest hug you can muster.

The boy immediately falls apart in your arms, burying his face into your shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. You hold him tightly while he weeps and absolutely refuse to let go. Tears soak into the fabric of your funeral outfit as Alistair cries and cries into you, his nails death gripping into your back like if he let you go, he’d lose you too.

It takes a few minutes, but finally his hysterical weeping dies down into only mere sniffles. His burning eyes open again. Alistair pulls back from you and wipes the stray tears off his cheeks, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, when he notices something odd…

Everything seems brighter than before.

Hatty: Even though he couldn’t see color, Hatty was a lover of all things artistic. From a young age he was obsessed with arts and crafts and was always coming up with new projects. Though supportive, his parents would always give him a certain… funny look whenever he showed off what he had made. The same thing would happen with some other adults he knew. As he got older, even some of his friends started giving his work odd looks. Hatty never really knew why. But that’s okay. He never let it get to him and kept creating well into his adult years.

Then, he finally meets you, his soulmate. It happened when he was sketching at the park - he had accidentally dropped his pencil, and you both brushed hands against each other when trying to pick it up for him. Both of you absolutely lit up and ended up spending the whole day together, even if it wasn’t the original plan.

That night, he went home to the mansion feeling happier than he ever did before. Not only did he meet the love of his life, but now he could finally see in color! In fact, that’s most of what he had been blabbing about all day. So Hatty couldn’t wait to get back into his attic and get to see all of the wonderful—

Oh, no.

Oh. No.

The color explosion that hit him was so obnoxious he could’ve sworn his eyes would bleed. Oh, the horror! What looked beautiful in greyscale looks like absolute shit in color. Why did nobody tell him he was mixing neon orange with mint green?! Everywhere he looked it was disaster upon disaster upon disaster. Color theory who? Oh, god, now it all made sense! He had a completely warped perception of color all his life!

Oh well. At least he got to meet you today.

Crack Bonus: OG Hatbox Ghost

Hatbox hated only being able to see in black and white. He felt like there was just so much that he was missing out on. Fields of flowers, sunsets, fireworks. He was tired of this lifestyle and wanted to meet his soulmate as soon as possible.

So he started “accidentally” bumping into absolutely everyone in sight when he walked by on the street. He got away with it by pretending that he was just rusty with his cane, but in reality he was just trying to touch as many people as he could hoping to find the one. Shockingly, it actually worked. One day he smacked right into you and his vision exploded with color.

Hatbox didn’t even let you introduce yourself before immediately rushing off to look for the nearest mirror. He had always wondered what he looked like outside of that greyscale prison. Finally, he rushes into the nearest clothing store, dashes into the changing room, and looks himself up and down.

He looks… exactly the same.

Utter disappointment.