#So read with caution

[warframememes]

My unsorted thoughts on the Duviri Paradox (Possible spoilers for every quest)

I love the new Drifter combat and I would actually like to see some of it implemented outside of Duviri.

I'm having a hard time understanding how new players would handle starting with Duviri rather than the typical start. The lore given to you is even more vague than Vor's Prize and the new combat mechanics aren't used outside of Duviri, so it's a lot of learning mechanics that you won't often use.

Do new players go to the Zariman when they're finished? Do they go directly to Vor's Prize?

I like that we get to see that Teshin survived The New War. His pet is adorable and I would die for them.

FLYING HORSE

I like the random loadout system for the circuit. Forced me to bring out my mixed support Saryn and it worked out very well for Steel Path!

I generally don't like the addition of new resources in this game, even though it is understandable from this area.

The cutscenes when collecting pieces of the doll seem to confirm that Drifter really did spend several years on the Zariman, even with all the horrific things happening.

Wait, whose hand is that?

No really.

Who was it that... gave us a hand...?

DE, let me run solo Drifter in normal missions with a melee and secondary. At the very least, let them use Rumblejack again.

[cjlouwho]

The Only Exception

Had to write a little fic from Tommy's perspective based off of The Only Exception by Paramore. Read below or on ao3!

For so long, love felt to Tommy like wearing a turtleneck on a summer day. It was uncomfortable. Itchy, sweaty, and no matter how much you tugged it away from your neck it came right back to choke you again.

That was the type of love he'd grown up with. A love that was never truly love at all.

A father who failed more often than he succeeded. Who cheated and lied and spewed words of hatred. Who treated him like gum on the bottom of his shoe. Who treated his mom even worse.

And his mom would get sick of it. She'd say she was done. She'd cry and yell and pack her bags- only her bags- and she'd look Tommy straight in the eyes and tell him, “This is what love looks like, Thomas, this is all it is.”

During those times, Tommy's dad would beg and plead for her to stay. He couldn't make it through life without her, he didn't know what he'd do if she left, he was nothing without her, she was nothing without him.

He'd wipe away her tears and take her suitcase from her hand and lead her back to the bedroom. Tommy would make himself a bowl of cereal, sit on the couch, watch cartoons until after the sun had set, then he'd tuck himself into bed.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

When he got older and left for the army, there wasn't really time for love. There was time for quickies in secret hookup spots around base. There was time to learn more about himself than he dared speak about. There was time to get close to a guy who laughed in his face when Tommy told him that maybe one day they could leave the military and get a place together.

You're living in a fantasy world, Kinard, so here's some reality. Guys like us weren't made to be loved.

He was young and naive then.

He learned to grow up quickly.

He tried love after he first became a firefighter. But love was closing his eyes and imagining someone else when he was intimate with her. It was taking extra shifts at work so he had an excuse not to invite her over. It was telling her he had to sleep alone because he had nightmares.

It was unfair to them both.

It wasn't love.

Because love doesn't exist.

Tommy learned to be comfortable with being alone. Learned to keep himself busy with hobbies so he was content when he walked into his empty house.

Learned to enjoy another man's touch for a night, and be gone long before the sun rose.

Learned to fake girlfriends at work, be the guy who has someone new every other month. Let everyone call him a player because that was better than any other word they'd use if they knew the truth.

Love doesn't exist. Not for someone like me.

Even at Harbor, once he decided to be honest with himself and the people around him, love felt like an illusion.

There was the guy who was still deep in the closet, who didn't even want to look at Tommy when they were in bed together.

Then the guy who paraded him around and let everyone, including his ex-boyfriend, know he was with a firefighter.

The guy who in the end said he only asked him out because Tommy saved his life and he felt he owed him that much.

Just stop trying.

That's what he did. He stayed in his bubble of work, hobbies, home.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Every day the same.

Then he got a phone call from someone he hadn't heard from in a while.

And he literally owed his life to this guy, so of course he said yes to the most insane plan he'd ever heard.

Then suddenly he was meeting two new guys that had joined the 118 after he left. He was reconnecting with Hen, he was getting texts from Howie, he was gaining a new friend in Eddie, and he had plans to teach this Evan how to fly.

Evan with a beautiful smile and a hot body and the most adorable personality he'd ever seen.

He needed to keep his distance, because he didn't know Evan very well and he could be reading this all wrong.

Which, apparently he was, because Evan seemed to hate him and the last thing he needed was for this overall sweet guy with beautiful eyes to hate him.

He needed to do something to fix it. Needed to make things right so he didn't lose this friendship that hadn't even had a chance to begin.

So, he went to Evan's place and...

Oh.

It's funny how a person can really change your perspective of things.

Maybe the only time love doesn't last is when it's not meant to. Maybe there are exceptions. And maybe it'll find you when you least expect it. Maybe it'll find you in the loft of an apartment you've never been in before. Or during a messy first date that could've ended better on both ends.

Maybe love is an attempt to get your coffee order right when you've never even discussed whether or not you like coffee.

Or it's an insane ask to be a date to a wedding, because even though you barely know each other his family wants to meet you. He's talked about you to them.

It's found in a hug at a bachelor party, or in a “be safe” when you're going into work.

Maybe love is a kiss at the entrance of a hospital. So unexpected you can't help but vocalize your surprise.

Maybe it's not caring if you have evidence of a make-out session all over your face because you like this guy and you don't care who knows it.

Or maybe it's being there when someone from your past pops up and you can't quite vocalize how you feel.

Love is a late night dinner after a bad day where you can express your worries and discuss parental trauma. Love is knowing when to turn the conversation on its heels and flirt because life's been too serious lately and sometimes you need a reason to smile.

Love is found in the person you lean on when you're upset or angry. It's who you go to with your tears, whether they're from sadness or rage.

It's learning each other's flaws and not running away. It's learning to love their mess, all of their imperfections, and sticking it out because they're worth it.

It's a heated argument that no one wins and you forget what started it in the first place. It's in not giving a reason to pack your bags and threaten to leave, but in hashing it out because the person is worth staying for.

It's in honesty and thinking before you speak and being faithful.

It's in a hospital room after an injury that almost takes your life. It's when you open your eyes and your person is seated beside you looking worse than you do because they haven't slept in three days.

Love is cooking dinner together, and laughing so hard that soda shoots out your nose because only one of you knows how to follow a recipe.

Love is running to you when you show up at their station unannounced because they forgot their lunch in your fridge.

It's a kiss in the middle of a station that once held your biggest insecurities hostage. It's a hand on your back leading you up the stairs because everyone will want to see you.

Love is a gasp and a plead for more. A whisper that it's never felt like this before. It's strong arms gripping your back, wanting to feel you, wanting to kiss you, wanting to see you.

Love is holding you close until you fall asleep, until the sun rises, and even long after that.

Love is breaking through every rule you've made for yourself without even realizing it. Breaking down each and every barrier you've put in your own way and doing it with such grace and care that it brings tears to your eyes if you think about it too much.

Love is the person lying beside you right now, snoring so loudly you can't sleep, but you don't even care. You watch them, place a hand over their chest to feel their heartbeat because sometimes you wonder if they truly exist.

Love is curling into your touch, smacking their lips as they tug you closer and resume snoring right in your ear.

Love is here.

Love is present.

Love is real.

Love is Evan.

[lbhslefttiddie]

youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either. and is also still, sort of, a sex flower

from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way

[stealingyourbones]

recently watched a handful of episodes of Supernatural and im kinda impressed with Dean's steadfast belief that all monsters are monsters and can't be redeemed.

With that in mind... there could be some VERY angsty Danny Phantom crossovers with that as the main premise

[hcdragonwrites]

A Tiger on the Mountain (a @semisolidmind Fanfic)

Here it is ! Another one. I made up a creature specifically so I could play out a scenario in my head and lead into another fic after this one. This is not a two parter but it leaves it open for a follow up!

TW: Blood and Violence and allusions to torture at the end. (Not of Peaches SHES fine)

“Get out before you become a new rug for me to wipe my feet upon.” Sun Wukong snarled over the table, his staff in his hands. The Nine Tiger Demon took a step backward at the fury. The expedition to this kingdom of monkeys and flowers had been a fools mission. Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, dipped his head cordially.

“As you wish, my Lord.” The tiger smiled and stepped out of the council room, his great black cape swirling as he exited in a flourish. He had made a jab at the Monkey Kings pride by calling him Lord. He knew that his patience was wearing thin with him. Especially after he had eluded to the weakness of mortal Ally’s.

“It is necessary to procure some of the goods they produce.” Wukong had waved the complaint aside. As if waving a fly. Zari was a lord of a snowy country where resources were few and blood was spilt as common as the snowfall. His kind had been hunted by poachers for their pelts. For the magic quality in their stripped bodies. Bones, blood, tendons, fur, claws… Everything in a tigers body was hunted for medicine, magic and mayhem. To hear that the most feared creature west of his kingdom, the great demonic Monkey King who had challenged Heaven, had made treaties with humans…

Zari had licked his muzzle sensing weakness.

“Why treat when you can take?” The tiger lord had questioned. His attendants beside him fidgeted, their hands straying to the scimitars belted to their sides. A twitch of his tail tip called them off. A tiger was playing with a monkey to see what sort of prey it had between his claws.

“And cause further disharmony around me ? Mortal men are easily placated. It leaves me free to put my resources into more important things.” Here the monkey leaned forward, eyes glowing with the torchlight. “Like seeking new territories in the east.”

The threat was received but Zari didn’t rise to the bait. He was a patient creature. The scars on his stripped hands and body proved how many battles and hunters he had outwitted.

Of course Zari had only come to sieze up the competition in the West. He never had any intentions of swearing allegiance to the ape. To debase himself to an ape? Never. So it only took Wukong a few more verbal jousts to also know the game was at an end. He had dismissed the tiger with a threat. Zari kept his claws velveted. For now.

As he stepped out of the corridor he let the slightest bit of agitation show in his whiskered face. A twitch of a tail brought one of his attendants forward.

“Gather the lower Claw.” Zari whispered. “They need a good hunt.”

“Of course my King.” The lesser demon bowed and raced off, light as a feather in the wind. At least that would humble the foolish ape—

Zari came around the corner and bumped straight into something soft, and pliable. His claws caught it reflexively before the thing fell completely onto his black armor and ruined his perfect complexion. He hissed, about to snap at this new weaker underling of a foolish king when the scent hit the top of his mouth.

Human.

“I’m so sorry!�� It was female. The women pulled from the tiger claws. Her eyes remained cast down. Simple peasant clothes. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Flushed cheeks, good proportions. The tigers eyes had been blown wide.

“Are you alright miss?” Zira smoothed the twitching of his whiskers, kept the lashing of his tail to a minimum. But his instincts roared and his mouth pooled. “I did not mean to bump into so harshly.”

A captured peasant girl? A pet of this monkey kings?

“Oh no it was my fault!” The women said. She finally looked up and the tiger demon got a good look at the curve of her throat. The hot pulse just inches from his fangs.

From further down the corridor someone called “PEACHES!” The girl stiffened a bit then smiled sheepishly.

Zira felt as if he was a wolf in the sheep pen.

“I should have been watching where I was going. Carry on!” She bowed and then quickly scuttled off.

“Well well well…”Zira smiled to himself as another monkey ran past and after the fleeing women. He felt his grin widen, the drool threatening to slip. “Look like I have some entertainment myself…”

For Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, was whispered and feared by mortals across his snowy slice of the world. Legends told of how he would slip in as silent as a ghost. How he would visit families and paint their walls in red crimson and spattered gore. For Zari was a man eater, a enjoyer of mortal flesh. And his favorite prey that he enjoyed devouring most was women.

This conquest just got a bit more interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I Demand compensation.”

The threat would have come off more terrifying from the Monkey King if he had been dressed in his armor. However he was… not. Instead Wukong was at the present moment, begging on Peaches lap beneath a cherry tree. His face was a storm cloud as he lifted Peaches hands up to his head.

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any.” Peaches let her hand fall limply off. The stormy face broke into a beggars crocodile tears.

“PEACHESSSS!”

Macaque would have snickered at his sworn brother begging but he was also not getting any sort of touches from Peaches. He didn’t know why she had decided today of all days to deny both of them.

Why was she withholding scratches from her husbands? Well. For many reasons. For one, one of them startled her awake this morning by swooping her into his arms because he got a little too excited and woke her from her dreams. It also triggered a huge sort of panic because she has had enough of nightmares on being snatched away thank you.

Of course telling the one begging at her knees right now that his over exuberance this morning had been one of the reasons for no pats, would only lead to more exuberance.

A second reason she was including both and not just the one who scooped her ? Well because the day before Macaque thought it would be funny to pop one of his shadows beneath her while she was trying to brush her hair and in the fall the hairbrush - still tucked into her hair- wrenched. It had been painful and she had lost several bits of her own hair in it.

And thirdly? Because these two had, for all intensive purposes of the words, kidnapped her and forced her to live here upon the mountain. Yes she was still bitter about it. No she wouldn’t get over it. At least not today. Too many tricks were tugged and her personal space breached for her to simply let it go. A little bodily autonomy and boundary would be nice. Instead her two lovers would look at her as one would a family cat and go “awwwwwwww!” and scoop her up.

So two very peeved simians sat cross legged staring her down. Wukongs tail was lashing back and forth, his eyes narrowed like a cats. He reached forward and grabbed Peaches hand again. She had learned long ago that giving them the satisfaction of her resistance- how cute! They would say as she practically threw all manner of pellmell closet clutter at them- would only prolong their inevitable smothering of her.

Being impassive was her best weapon.

So she let her hand be limply lifted.

Just as limply it slid off the Monkey Kings head.

“Peaches! Come on!” Wukong groaned. He sounded like a kid begging for sweets. Peaches sniffed. The day was nice at least. She had made her way out of Water Curtain Cave and out onto the mountainside before her attendant could shove and stuff her into royal courtly attire. Not today! Peaches hadn’t wanted to attend court. She hadn’t wanted to be near that council room. Her accidental bump into that demon had been as close as she had gotten. A tiger demon? Now that was something she hadn’t seen yet.

Wukong laid himself over her lap, his face pouting up at her. He looked… adorable. It was almost enough for her to forget about his transgression this morning. It wasn’t enough. She turned her head away.

Only for Macaque to be there. He had somehow snuck up, as was his silent way, and pressed himself to her back. He slipped her into his lap, and Peaches felt a little spark of unease. Macaque was the slower of the two when it came to affection, sneaking it in or trying to tease it from her. Wukong was all action and joyful tugs and play. His was earnest and forward. Macaque was… sly. Teasing. A fox inside the chicken house.

“Sweet peach, come now.” His hands settled around her. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Peaches fought the blush from rising in her face. Think of rocks and birds. What you will eat tonight. Anything but how his voice and how it feels rumbling against me.

“We just want to have a little comfort.” The dark furred monkey lifted her hand. He entwined his fingers in hers. They were so large. The practically swamped her own. The claws slide along the fingers as he lifted her hand and tugged it into his fur onto his cheek.

“Come on, little plumb.” His smile was as sweet as honey, as soft as downy feathers. If it had been any other day she would have mussed his fur and teased him back. However Macaque made a mistake of touching her hair with a free hand. Reminding Peaches that this little trickster had yanked some of her hair out.

She let her hand remain lax.

“No.”

“Then you leave both of us no choice.”

Macaque leaned back and with a woosh and gasp of air and black- they were back in their room. The pillow pit cushioned their fall, as did Macaque who lay beneath her. Peaches let out an indignant squeak as the demon monkey growled playfully in her ear.

“You have only a few moments before Wukong gets here. Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“No.” Peaches sniffed. His hand was trailing along her skin, almost walking up her arm.

“Are you mad at him?” Macaque asked.

“Yes”

“Are You mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it … a mad kind of day?”

She didn’t respond.

He tutted and tugged her hands free of where she had shoved them beneath her arms. He placed one against the side of his head, eyes gently closing. He kissed her palm, her wrist, her arm.

“Come on my sweet… just indulge us both..”

“No.”

“Little minx.” The purple eyes flashed along with that sharp toothed smile. Peaches felt her face flush. Macaque leaned in and over her now, his free hand twining in the hair on the back of her neck. The demon was angling her from being the one on top, to sliding her into the pillow pit with the dark haired monkey hovering above. He pulled her up and into him, and Peaches had the startling realization that she was so very very small and he was so very very large all of a sudden.

“What sins do I have to whisper into your ears ? What marks should I leave upon your skin to earn your affection again?” His eyes dipped to her lips. Peaches face felt like it was afire. “Should I sing your praises into your skin with my teeth?”

Oh dear.

And then the moment of tension was broken by a furious orange blur bursting into the room and tackling both of them. Peaches cried out while Macaques face looked deadpan at his sworn brother. The moment of tension, of turning Peaches pink as a lychee fruit, was over.

“MACAQUE! THATS NOT FAIR!” The monkey king was entangled with both of them as he grabbed the other hand and shoved it into his fur. Peaches only held onto them now as they jostled her. “HOW MANY HEADSCRATCHES DID YOU GET?”

“None…” His face was exasperated, his tail twitching at the tip.

“None?” Wukong echoed.

“None!” Macaque slammed his head closer to Wukong. Peaches was perfectly sandwiched between her husbands very bare and very exposed chests as the two brothers bristled at each other. She was loosing her own power of wills because … well. Peaches was only human. She could barely stay mad at one Monkey half dressed. Two half dressed and practically pressed cheek to pec against either side of your face ? It was a marvel her body didn’t burn up on the spot from how much she was blushing.

“Why you shouting at me then?!”

“You spoiled my sport before I could tease some out of her.”

“Oh?” Wukongs eyes shot downward. Peaches looked away, feeling like she got caught watching.

Oh no.

The two demons looked down on her. And Peaches felt like she was in danger. Not a you-will-die-and-be-disemboweled way. More of you-will-be-turned-into-a-second-sun-from-how-much-we-will-tease-you kind of way. They loomed over their mortal wife, ears perked forward and grins becoming sharp and feral.

Another burst through the door however saved Peaches from being turned into a puddle beneath the attentions of her husbands.

“Ugh what is it now?” Macaque sighed.

“My King! We are under attack!”

The two warlords changed from flirting devils to stiff and immovable stones as they stood. Macaques ears swished, forward and back, each set twitching as he confirmed it.

Wukong was across the room, his armor back on his body in a flash. His staff was plucked free from his ear, elongating in a flourish.

“Where?” The Sages voice was a silent rumble.

“Off the south slope- a band of panthers by the look of it.” The sentry’s tail was puffed in fear. Wukong nodded and was off in a flash of fur and fury.

Someone was attacking the mountain? They must be crazy. Insane. Or have a death wish.

Macaque set Peaches firmly in the Pillow pit, eyes somber.

“Love don’t move. Don’t leave this room. Understand ?” His face was pinched in worry bordering on fury. He was trying to maintain his composure for her, to hold back the anger that was threatening to bubble upward. Peaches may think of her boys a lot of way. They were selfish when they wanted her attention. They had taken her away reluctantly from her home. She had been forced to live her for the past decade or so. Her husbands were warlords, murderers and Demons.

They also cared for her a great deal, in a way that no mortal could compare. They clothed her in the finest garb but also gave her the option of comfort. They brought her to the Palace and laid laws down among the fellow demonic ally’s that she was to be respected and treated as an extension of Wukong and Macaques power. They brought her gifts from the outside world when they came back from expeditions, made her foods from the finest ingredients, told her stories of their travels. On nights when the past came back to rear it’s head she could find comfort in one or both of their arms.

And at times like this, she felt thankful that, of all the kidnapping creatures in the world, at least it had been these two.

That didn’t sound like a plus at all.

Macaque was waiting for her response. Peaches shook herself free of the cobwebs, of the past and back into the present. The mountain was under fire. Something was trying to earn the ire of the Monkey King and his People. As a very soft once mortal immortal now, Peaches had no sort of power to defend with or help. She was a liability, at least until she began her own cultivation, on the battlefield. So Peaches nodded.

“Yes.”

It was all Macaque needed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered “Good girl.”

And he was gone, falling into shadow.

“Hellooooo?”

Peaches started awake at the voice. Disoriented she disentangled herself from the soft fur and pillows she had been wedged between. She must have fallen asleep some time in the day. The light coming from the windows was a burnished gold, sunset settling on the

“Someone help! Help me please…”

The voice was disjointed, the sound echoing from beyond the closed doors. It set her skin to crawling. Shouldn’t there be guards ? Shouldn’t there be someone outside the doors?

“HELP. SOMEONE HELP!”

The voice sounded like a baby! The shrill high note cut through the last hesitation Peaches had. She opened the door and rushing out into the corridor.

The echos of her footfalls bounced back to her from the stone walls. The cry came again, a baby monkey hooting in distress. It came from around corridors, downs passageways. Peaches raced forward until she had burst out of the cavern and into the dying light of the sun.

The grass swayed in the breeze. The shadows danced across the field, like stripes on a great tigers back.

She felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was terribly wrong. It felt off - the world felt off. The mountain was usually brimming with life and sound. Birds would be calling even at this late hour when day turns to night. The cicadas would be sonorously screaming their complaints to the night air. However…

Everything was still. Not a insect nor a bird called out. There were no generals or other monkeys present on the mountain. Usually sentries were littered about the fields and slopes. There was no one here at this moment.

That’s wrong. Completely wrong…

A faint gurgle, a dying cry of a baby monkey from somewhere just ahead.

“Where are You?” Peaches called. The child sounded in pain- and the sooner she got them inside the cave, the better. “You have to tell me where you are so I can help you.”

“Typical mortals.” The voice came from behind and peaches whipped around. A tiger demon, a creature of immense size and with terrifying teeth, toward behind her. Zira held the languid look of a cat with a full belly, tail swaying in the grass and claws meticulously being groomed. The blood from those long claws was the fresh scarlet of new blood.

“Your kind always come when lured by another— I was wondering if I should do a human baby or a mortal imitation but, seeing as you’ve been collared and tamed by monkeys, I thought that would be the easiest way to lure you out.” The tiger lord grinned. Peaches saw that he was fully armored. The black leather of his body was painted in dark splotches of red.

He’s … killed people. Who has he killed?? Where’s the baby ??

Peaches stepped cautiously back into the grass, heart racing. The tiger lords eyes grew round.

“Are you trying to run?” His voice was practically a pur as he stood straighter. “Please do. The chase will be good for me and clear this monstrous smell of ape blood.”

“What do you want?” Peaches needed to stall. To find a way to keep the beast talking. He liked to talk to full the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Those are boring questions dear morsel. Boring indeed. You mortals think all the same- but at least you taste better then your little brains think.” Zira stepped forward and into Peaches bubble- forcing her backward and further away from the cave. “Why am I Here ? Well to play. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to play with another demons pet.”

Another slow pace forward. Another hasty retreat from Peaches.

“I can understand. I play rough. It’s hard when you all … scream at the slightest break of bone. At the sudden loss of limb…” the tiger lords body seemed to grow, a secondary face appearing from its left cheek. The new muzzle opened and in horror peaches heard people crying, of mortal women begging for their children. The voices of men pleaded for wives and sons and daughters. Anguished cries, cries of pain. Voices from the past.

Dead voices.

“They never last long.” The tiger smirked, that new face along his left side turning upward as well.

“So when I came to see this terrifying demon lord who has challenged heaven I expected him to have a show of strength. What I didn’t expect was a pet like you.” Those eyes flashed.

“Why? Wukong is the strongest Why—“

“Why did I not expect you?” Zira snorted. “Because demons forget themselves when they stop consuming lesser beasts and start befriending them.”

Peaches looked about her. She wouldn’t be able to make a dash back to the caves. This tiger was driving her further and further from safety. She had been a fool to try and help, a damned fool. The next best thing she could do was to try and stay alive long enough. Long enough for her to call out. Wukong or Macaque would hear her. She had no doubt on that. There was also the willow tree just ten feet behind her. If she could get to it and climb she may be able to stall out this demon.

“Now dear. How would you like to die?” The tiger was closer now as Peaches kept stepping back. She was almost back pedaling, trying to stay out of the range of those claws. Of those red teeth. “I could kill you by fang or claw. Or maybe a sword would be better. But then… where’s the fun in it for me if you die so quickly ?”

Peaches spun on her heel and ran.

“HELP!” Her lungs filled with more air, to shout to the Heavens above. The grasses bent beneath her flight. She had almost made it to the tree, almost got enough air to scream again when something slammed into her shoulder. Bright hot pain bloomed and she fell to the dirt. Her hands reached up and came away with sticky blood.

“Calling for help is useless.” Zira licked the fresh blood clean from his claws, enjoying the taste of terror on his tongue. “My men have them busy against the farthest side of the mountain.”

Peaches rolled, to get up to get away she did not know. Her movement was stopped by a booted heel to her shoulder. The new pain elicited a scream to peak from her lips. It rang eerily off the mountain that was so still. So awfully still.

“The pain will only be temporary.” Zira knelt. The tiger reached down with his clawed hands. He cupped her face as she fought him. He smiled and opened his jaws wide to close over her throat.

The suns last dying ray cast a shadow as black as night over the grassy floor. It pooled beneath the mortal women and then, with a slip and tug, Ziras prey was swallowed by the black. The tiger snarled claws raking the soil in a vain attempt to dig her back out.

“So it was you.”

Zira turned.

There, leaning against his staff was the Monkey King. His clawed hands and golden armor were covered in black blood. Zira felt a worm of unease creep into his calm and cocky smile. Those warriors had been the best of his Claw- the best in the Snowy Steppes. There was no way they had failed—

“Ah King Wukong!” The tiger Lord began. If he could stall him out, lead him into a false sense of security, then that would be better. It would buy him time to get closer, to steal into range and pounce. “So nice to see you agai—-“

The tiger lord didn’t even see the moment. On second the orange monkey was standing before him and the next he felt a blooming pain cut along his secondary face. He roared in confusion as the sight from those eyes was lost in a shower of blood. The tiger had no time to reorient himself however. The neck blow was to one of his hands. Sun Wukong clasped one in hand and with a terrible crunch, shattered all the bones within.

Panic came traipsing up the tigers spine. This was not good. The monkey was moving incredibly fast - too fast- for him to counter. He reached for his Scimitar- the blade of Nine Tigers- to end the fight. This blade could cut mountain in half- it could cleave souls from bodies and leave the flesh whole.

“You come to my mountain…”

The staff slammed into the side of his head, casting several of the tigers teeth from his jaws. He was unbalanced but determined. He just had to grab his sword —

“You attack my home…”

Another blow to his middle sent him slamming into the willow tree. The force of it snapped the bark and collapsed the Willow behind him. Zira felt stars float in his vision, tasted his own blood. He had a hand on his sword now though. He drew the blade, cutting it across the insolent ape that towered over him. Wukongs soul would be cleaved, his body left behind for the flies to lay eggs in. He would be dead. The blade sliced —

And snapped in half.

“You tried to devour my wife…” Fear is not something a tiger experienced often. It raced over his stripes, twitched his crushed whiskers, and made his eyes widen. That had been his wife ? That common little dustmote ? Zira had miscalculated. A pet was one thing. But a wife —

“You took… a mortal… as a wife? Pa—“ Zira tried for bravado, tried to spit into the monkey lords face. The tiger was desperately clinging to what remained of his pride. He had chased a rabbit into a ravine and found wolves.

Zira opened his jaws to cast his last disrespect. Only for the claws of Wukong to cut along his jaw and crush it closed before he could finish.

“I will break every bone in your body before I let you die. You will wish you were dead before I’m done with you.”

The shadows swallowed Peaches and arms wrapped around her but she was still flailing. She grabbed at fur and skin and battered her fists and nails against it.

“Ow - PEACHES - PEACHES ITS ME!” Macaque voice cut over the adrenaline that floated high and fast in her blood. She blinked at him. They were back in their room, back inside Water Curtain Cave. Peaches hand was still curled in a fist, still raised up to beat along her captors face. Only. This wasn’t the tiger anymore. It was Macaque.

“It’s just me.”

“I’m not dead am I?” What stupid words to say but it was the first thing her numb mind could think on.

“What? No.” Macaques face was a sea of worry lines as he gently turned her shoulder to him. The blood was sopping beneath the cloth of her shirt. He gave it a sniff and murmured in soothing tones. Mostly to himself. “But I’m concerned for your shoulder. Let’s get that looked at alright ?”

Peaches nodded. Macaque used his claws to rip free the ruined cloth of the shirt and gain better access to the claw marks.

“It’s an ugly scratch but nothing deep.” She felt his hands, paper soft press along the skin. She hissed at the fiery pain as damaged nerves and sore skin protested. “Peaches you will have to be brave for me and let me stich it closed ok?”

She nodded. Her mind was still processing the events just moments ago. Of tiger teeth flashing to bite her throat. Of claws cutting her skin. Macaque returned to her and tugged her into him. She didn’t protest. Didn’t stop as he pulled her hand up to his face. She twined her fingers into the fur, needing the grounding almost, if not more, then he did. Macaque made soothing chirps and soft noises as he worked, pulling needle through flesh and closing it up.

It was only after a time, when Peaches own fear began to fall away, that he asked her.

“Why did you leave the room Peaches ?”

“I heard … it sounded like one of the babies Mac.” One of the little monkey babies all alone and crying for help. The haunting sound echoing off the stone and always just out of reach. “One of the littles in pain and hurt. I didn’t think. I just … acted.”

“Mmm.” Another stich pressed into her skin and she flinched. “You know this means you will have to have a day guard now yes?”

“Are you putting more restrictions on me after I almost got devoured ?” It was a bad attempt at humor but Peaches tried anyway. Whenever something happened to her - if it was an imagined insult from a courtier, a threat to her life because she tried something new and it didn’t agree with her- the boys would set new limits, new conditions. Macaque scowled at her and she bit her tongue from adding to the humor.

“Precautions. If I hadn’t heard you—“ His voice chocked at the end. Peaches looked back. Macaques ears were all low, dropping like flower petals. For all their faults, for their transgressions in taking her choices from her, they loved her. Peaches could see that love in Macs eyes as he imagined the possible outcomes that could have happened. She twirled her fingers around s patch of his fur, soothing him and herself with the confirmation that this was the reality now and not those flashing teeth.

“We can’t loose you Love. I — we — we were so afraid.” When Macaque had heard the strangled help in the heat of battle he had stopped. He had felt his heart give a lurch and Wukong had been of like mind. That battle was practically won. Between the two sworn brothers, nothing much could stand in their fury. But hearing Peaches— Peaches who they left back safe in their room, in the palace, calling for help—

“I was too.”

“When I tell you to stay inside - stay inside. Understand?”Anger laced Macaques words as he pinned her with a look.

“Yes.” It wasn’t good enough though. Not for him. It wouldn’t be for Wukong. The next time the mountain was under attack—if there was a next time— Macaque would lock the doors and the windows. He would shudder the room in shadow if he had to. But. A yes for now was the best he would get from her.

“Good. That’s all the chewing out I’ll give you because when Wukong gets here he’s going to have some very harsh words with you.” Peaches shoulders flinched a little.

“He’s mad at me?” There was genuine hurt and dismay in her voice. Wukong and Peaches had the toughest days when it came to their relationship. Some days she could forget he had taken her without her consent from all she knew- had wiped her village clear off the map. Other days she only saw the blood soaked Warlord in all his fury. On those days arguments ensued and the kings mood was ever sour.

“Never mad at You.” Macaque reassured. Wukong never was genuinely upset at their peach. How could he be when he was enamored with her so? Macaque couldn’t even keep his own anger at her negligence of self after todays events. All she had to do was look at him with that puppy dog look and he was wanting to tease and soothe her into smiles and comfort. “Never. Afraid for your life ? Absolutely. He has half a mind to keep you indoors from now on.”

“He said that ?”

“As we were racing to come get you yes.” Macaque finished the stitches with a pull and tug. The cord came free in his claws. He set about binding cotton gauze around the area to protect the stitches. In the morning he would let them breathe.

“But I think if you let him coddle you for a few days and you agree to a guard, he won’t take your outside privileges away.” Macaque teased and gave advice. Wukong could get a bit … territorial when it came to their Peach. He understood how important it was to give some sort of semblance of freedom to her. Peaches was like a flower- she needed light and air to thrive. If Wukong took that away, he wouldn’t like how she would wilt. Even though Macaque himself had half a mind to keep her inside forever. Especially after today.

Peaches head brushed beneath his chin suddenly and the monkey was jarred from his thoughts. She was nodding off, fighting sleep. Macaque gathered her up easily and set her into the bed they shared. He took care to arrange the pillows, to settle her into her most favorite blankets and soft things. It was a distraction from the rage that now was bubbling upward. For though Macaque had the calmest demeanor- he was just as bloody and furious as his brotherly counterpart.

“Go to sleep.” He commanded. Peaches yawned, catching the trailing end of his tail.

“You won’t leave me … will you?”

“I will be right here till Wukong gets back.”

It was hours later when Macaque heard his brother step into their rooms. Wukong had bathed and cleaned himself elsewhere from the smell of the water and floral oils coming off of him. They both knew how Peaches had an aversion to the scent of blood. The monkey king was across the room and hovering over the pillow pit where she slept.

“How is she?” Wukong asked. All the rage had gone from him. Only worry remained. His tiny little wife… he could still see the Tiger hovering above her, his jaws parted wide over her throat to devour. It made Wukong wish to break his muzzle again.

“Worn out. The cuts are superficial at best. I stitched them up.” The sheen of white medical gauze and cotton took over one lovely shoulder of Peaches back. Wukong felt his teeth beginning to grit in a threatening smile.

“Why would she go outside?! Peaches isn’t a fool.”

“And she wasn’t one.” Macaque soothed. He was standing now that Wukong was here, making his way to the door slowly. “She went outside because she heard the bastard imitate a baby cry.”

“A baby?”

“She thought it was one of the babies.” Wukongs heart gave a shudder. Of course she would throw caution to the wind. His Peaches loved the children of the mountain almost as much as he himself did. “Peaches said she went out to look and that’s when he leapt at her.”

Wukong felt a bit of his anger ebb. He was never angry at Peaches. He could never be. But anger around how she acted ? … yes. That was a possibility. Hearing how she didn’t go out until she thought it was a baby- well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“The sentries are dead.” Wukong had come across their bodies after restraining the tiger demon. Seeing his peoples cut throats and crumpled bodies had not soothed his anger. He hoped the tiger healed quickly enough so he could repay them for each of his peoples lives. “The tiger killed them. He thought he could kill me by swinging his fancy sword. Too bad it snapped on the first try.”

“Did you leave him alive?” Macaque was at the door now, his fists uncurled.

“He’s somewhere beneath us in a wet cave. I broke all the bones in his body. But … I Left the tail for you.”

“Good.” The door opened and his brother was gone.

Wukong stared at Peaches as she slept for a moment. He had almost lost her today. He half wanted to wake her up and shake her and the other half just wanted to keep her tucked away and safe inside the mountain. Wukong would pull promises and such from her tomorrow. In fact, he may have to teach her some basic self defense. She would never be able to stop a full demonic beast. It would ease his mind however - it would sooth him and settle the fur that kept rising along his back- if she at least had an understanding of what tricks and traits demons used to tempt food out of hiding.

Wukong slid into the nest, settling himself so he didn’t jostle her awake. Tomorrow he could sit her down and tell her the new precautions he would have to merit out. A new guard, lessons in defense, maybe even a copy of him nearby or in the shape of some common item… Wukong could gift her a hairpin each morning and do her hair with a copy of himself. A magical copy that would have ears out for any mischief she may wind up falling into.

It would give her the illusion of freedom without telling her I put a spy on her person. That made Wukong feel better. For the next few days however, she wasn’t leaving his side. He didn’t care if she cried out or pouted or started to throw things. They had almost lost her.

Peaches half woke with a start as Wukong adjusted the blankets about her. Her face came upward, staring and trying to see all about.

“Wukong?”

“It’s just me… you can go back to sleep.”

To his astonishment Peaches shifted, settling herself into his chest. Wukong welcomed her tangle, twining has hands into her hair as she tugged on his fur. Her cheek was pressed to his chest where his heart must be hammering beneath. The Monkey king made soothing chirps and soft calls to her, a reassurance of safety and care. Soon enough her fingers relaxed again as she fell into sleep.

He kissed her temple and nose, twirling his fingers through her hair. It was just as soothing for him as it probably was for her.

Wukong was glad the tiger had been able to survive him. He couldn’t wait to gift his pelt to her when he was finished with him.

If Macaque didn’t kill him after all.

[maramahan]

Sometimes I think about that book I read as a kid where the protagonist figured out the secret to human photosynthesis (by eating a ton of iron-rich food (like liver (which he hated))) thus turning himself into a plantsim & effectively solving world hunger But then the government shut him down because if nobody needed to eat food anymore the economy would utterly collapse and. there’s no point to this post. sometimes I just Think About It

[lickthehilt]

Yandere! Blade x Reader Drabble

T/W: violence and toxic relationships. Choking. Death (brief). Allusions to body horror. Not edited 💀

There’s a stillness to Blade as he watches you bleed out under him. Your blood is liquid sugar, nectar bled by fruit cultivated by years upon years of tenderness. He finds himself knelt above your body, cradling your head between one gloved and one bandaged hand—the bandages soaking up the blood pooling from your nose.

“Will you run for me?”

An irritated flicker gleams in your eyes, a wet sheen gathering to the corner where it cascades down your cheek. When it mixes with your blood, it turns to a pale pink that looks similar to the gradient of the tassel hanging by his coat.

“Not… today. No more,” you wheeze.

A finger twitches from where your hand is splayed, palm upwards, beside you. Leaning back he hums in a low grumble.

His gaze is sharp as it trails down your beaten body. You can’t see clearly through your wet gaze, but you can feel his finger tips dance across the flower-like bruises and cuts that had been made by the thrashing of his nails from your earlier tussle. You would rather be trapped in the prison cell of a panopticon than be subjected to his surveillance, his wonder and curiosity.

Underneath him, his touches, your body stitches itself back together. Your cells rejoin in waves, weaving together as if someone had sewn ladder stitches to every single open wound and had just pulled the sting taunt. Your streams of blood runs dry. Your chest heaves with air. Your eyes can focus on him once more.

He has your hands in his, roughened arms bringing them to his body. Your limbs are slack as he presses your palm against his chest; beneath your fingertips his heart races like the beat of show horses galloping against dry soil.

Your palm is now on his throat as he helps you to squeeze your fingers. His fingers press yours to dig into his flesh.

“Choke me.”

Finding your nerves, you clench. His skin is tough, but your grip is firm as you leverage your nails to anchor itself into him. Fighting against gravity, you roll to have the upper hand, to now pin him to the floor as he had done to you. A flush of anger pools at your ears, the blood dancing in your veins as you squeeze tighter and tighter.

“I wish to turn myself into liquid.” He gasps as he pulls his hand to cradle your wrist. “To enter your body.” There’s a sting of saliva dripping past his lips. His eyes shake in focus as he continues to look, to gaze. He looks at you as if you were death, eyes round. There’s a fantasy passing though his mind that you could bring him this salvation, be the one to bring him to- to- “if I were liquid— I would eat away at your lung to replace it, would train myself— augh— to become solid so you could no longer breathe without me.”

His free hand slaps gently at your waist, holding it in a tender grip. “Would you like me— hng— to be your rib instead? To be a bone that you could live without? But for me to be removed from your system— it would— ah— change you. The soreness— your body would be different.” There’s a pain at your waist as he squeezes. “When you press to where I once was— ugh— all you would feel— is the impression of me— where we were once— joined.”

The seconds seem to creep by as your grip shakes. A grin is at his lips as he watches your tender cheeks get coated in the salty liquid of your tears. It’s a chore to slam him to the ground, so you settle at bringing your body weight forward.

He gurgles and you imagine his veins popping under the lack of air flow, the rush of warm liquid pooling from his lips. They’d drip into your fingers and coat them in a glove of crimson. But you’d stare at him in envy, that the fact that death would be successful at cradling him. But that isn’t the case. It never is with the two of you.

He no longer looks at you as his eyes roll backwards and his body slackens. He speaks bullshit to you.

Your head swims in warmth as you slowly release him, eyes watering and the nerves of your fingertips buzzing. When your head meets his chest, you can hear his body stitching itself to work once more. It’s like clockwork hearing his heart start up as his popped lungs gather itself. When he takes his first breath, the sound of Kafka’s heels echo through your ears and entrances you to dream.

Tucked into each other like lovers is how Kafka finds the two of you.

[evilasiangenius]

He didn't so much hear Armand come in as he felt Armand come in. Like a moment of nullity moving through the room, a presence that was not a presence. A ghost.

“Daniel...” Armand sat down on the bed, his weight depressing the mattress lightly.

“No...go away.” Daniel tried to turn away but he was sweating and shivering, too cold, too hot.

“It's all right, Daniel. I'm here.” Armand shifted, bringing his legs up and lying down beside Daniel, moving into Daniel's arms. “I'm here.”

“You feel good.” Daniel pressed his cheek against Armand's cool forehead, sighing. He wrapped his arms tight around Armand and it was as though he could feel the heat melt away from him, soaking into Armand.

“My poor Daniel.” Armand stroked Daniel's pale hair. Daniel had only the faintest roughness of stubble clinging to his jaw, and his mussed hair had been cut and clipped in a slick modern style that suited him. Even his ruined clothes were new. That man had taken good care of him.

Daniel shifted, so he could move closer to Armand, so he could press his entire body against Armand. The fever was burning up inside Daniel, and Armand felt the twinge of that old fear, the fear of sickness and the death it brought. So often over the years he had seen Daniel shrug off coughs and chills that it had made him wonder at the strength of these modern mortals.

Death. His fingers brushed through Daniel's hair and Daniel sighed, turning so Armand's hand moved against his cheek. Just hiding under the skin, just beyond the bones. He wondered if he pressed his ear to Daniel's chest, if he could hear the little cells inside of him slowly dying, bursting and floating away.

“I won't let you.” Armand kissed his eyelids, speaking so softly that it was more for his own sake than Daniel's. “Not right now.” And he made that little cut on his throat and guided Daniel to to it. Daniel's dry lips moved against him, at first sluggish, but then he caught the taste of it and his mouth moved hungry.

more

[circusfable]

Please read the tags for full content warnings. Y’all knew it was only a matter of time before I started cutting up poor Siffrin 🤭

[not-poignant]

Hi! I am usually a lurker, but I have been following you for about a year or so (found from r/MM_Romance AO3 recs search) and my first read was Deeper into the Woods. -- Do you have any recommendations for "realistic" portrayals of sadists? (AO3 stories or MM romance but also open to non-fiction recs/other) -- I do not have any real-life experience with people who identify as sadists or the kink community in general, so I wonder how exaggerated the fiction is sometimes. Thank you for your time!

Hi anon!

I'm going to rec two of my own fics - Spoils of the Spoiled (especially tracing a young sadist who has to figure out where the lines are between reality and fiction in his own life), and Falling Falling Stars (which depicts an experienced genuine sadist who is quite frank/open about talking about it and is comfortable in himself about it).

You probably have a lot more experience with real life sadists than you know, since most of us are just regular people! (And quite a few of us are also masochists as well). Honestly it's possible to see people with sadistic tendencies in every walk of life. From massage therapists who enjoy working the knots out of their clients (including the 'good pain' it results in), to the professional manufacturers of boutique hot sauce, who like nothing more than watching someone suffer through what they created.

(And same with masochists - you need only look at the people who enjoy that hot sauce and the pain it causes them, lmao.)

You might also like the published m/m romance series by Lisa Henry and JA Rock known as the 'Boy series.' It starts with The Good Boy and the sequel is The Boy Who Belonged. It is, imho, a great and realistic depiction of an experienced sadist and a newbie masochist, as well as a trauma recovery story with an age gap, which realistically addresses the age gap, the sadism, lateral ways of being sadistic with someone who finds impact play triggery, and more. For me it's still one of the gold star versions of published m/m which shows the perspective of both characters, so we get to see what they're both thinking, and - imho - it's pretty realistic!

I'm also gonna rec one of my fanfics, The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle, since a lot of the chapters are from the sadist's perspective, and while the setting is fantasy, the actual thought processes behind setting up scenes, the intention, riding the line between too much hurt and the right amount, what kind of pain is sexy and what isn't, etc. is - I feel - quite realistic. It's one of the things that fellow sadists have praised my work for (that the sadists feel like real sadists, and not just wish fulfillment sadists, who are otherwise apologetic for enjoying someone's pain), and while I still have a lot to learn re: writing in general, it's one of the reasons I write what I do!

[npdvelvette]

they need a dating app for cluster bs because how do i prewarn people who swipe me for looking nice that i’m actually fucked in the head

[a-storytellers-wish]

If wishing on a star and said star would come down to help me with my wish is real, god damn I wish I had a star buddy helping me with my schoolwork.

[divorcedfiddleford]

10+1

last year this show turned 10 years old. i didn't do anything to celebrate and it made me feel really shitty, so i promised myself i'd do something this year, no matter how small. so here it is. it's pretty sloppy, but i think it's ok.

i was 12 when gravity falls first aired. i still remember seeing promos for the upcoming series on disney channel. to this day, i have a hard time describing what it means to me. mabel pines was like nothing i'd ever seen before. she was confident. she was unabashedly herself. she said the wrong thing but she still had friends. she was everything i wanted to be. dipper pines was someone i could talk to. he was scared, insecure, and sincere. i felt like i had known him all my life.

being 12 years old sucked. i was a loner at school. i had one real friend but we would fight all the time. nobody else seemed to like me. i took out my anger on my brother, who had been my best friend for my whole life. i pushed him away. i distinctly remember speaking to my guidance counselor, asking what i needed to do to make more friends. she suggested that i was being "too weird" and that i should try to be less intense.

i grew up with mabel and dipper. we were both 12 in 2012 and i could not have asked for better peers. even as they stayed 12 and i turned 13, 14, 15, and then 16, they never left my side. they helped me remember that it's more than just ok to be strange - it's the best thing in the world. the people who love you and care about you love you because you are strange. they love you because you are like nobody else in the whole world. they love you for making jokes that aren't funny, for pointing out irrelevant details, and for knowing too much about specific topics. my brother is amazing and talented. he is also strange, and i love him very much. i keep this love in my heart and i allow it to make me a kinder person to him and to others.

i don't really know how to finish this. happy birthday, mystery twins. you made it past 10 years. thank you for sticking with me. let's go for another 10.

[wondrouswendy]

Forget to Remember, Chapter 7 Fandom: Alan Wake (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fictional Alex Casey/Alan Wake, Alex Casey/Alan Wake, Alan Wake & Barry Wheeler, Alan Wake & Alice Wake Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Canon Compliant, Canon Retelling, POV First Person, Romance, Horror, Angst, Drama, Humor, Friendship, Character Study, Self-Discovery, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Miscommunication, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Established Relationship, Alan Wake Has 99 Problems and Dramatic Irony Is #1 Series: Part 2 of Kill Your Darlings Summary: The trip to Bright Falls was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance to get out from under the collapsed remains of my writing career and to reconnect with my wife. But it was just another part of the spiral. The longest fall into dark depths. I landed into the arms of the person I least expected, the hero I had forgotten.

Alan faces a long afternoon waiting around Elderwood National Park before he can confront the kidnapper at Lovers' Peak. Time spent idling, however, leads him to have to confront the circumstances which pushed him and his wife to take a vacation in the first place.

Read Chapter 07 here on Ao3!

[bruciemilf]

It is finished.

omg thanks baby daddy

[driftingballoons]

Is there any media that's left a lasting impact on you?

So I’m going to give two answers, one the obvious, and another bonus answer for variety’s sake :3

Pmd explorers has possibly had the greatest lasting impact on me that any piece of media ever has. As my introduction to pokemon, I felt like I was playing partly as Hero would’ve experienced it—with absolutely no idea what to expect, and no background knowledge of anything. But the way it quickly changed from “heehee creature adventure :3” to “what does it truly mean to live and how can you shine as brightly as you can, even in the face of oblivion?” caught me quite off guard. It really made me start to think about how I could try to make the most of my life, how people’s actions can be hugely shaped by their situations, and how you really can’t take even the most simple of things for granted. I played this at 12 y/o during an otherwise very disruptive/isolated time in my life, so I’m not sure if that’s partly why my brain latched onto this as much as it did, but I genuinely felt like it helped me get through it. Whenever I felt weak or powerless back then, I found inspiration from how strong hero, partner, and grovyle had to be to get through everything, and it felt like it made coping just a bit easier. Fast forward to a much better time in my life, and it’s helped me find a wonderful, incredibly talented online community and friends, and I have an absolute blast being able to interact with you guys and see your takes on the series!

The other piece of media that had a lasting impact was Allie Brosh’s book Hyperbole and a Half. I hadn’t known before reading it, but she actually had a blog of the same name around the early 2010s, where she’d post her funny comics and stories. The part that had the most impact on me was actually her iconic ‘poorly drawn’ MS paint kind of style. It made me realize that you don’t necessarily have to make professional quality art to make something worth seeing. This inspired me not only to start posting my own doodles and stuff online, but also changed my approach when dealing with a lot of daunting things. Whenever I feel like I’m not good enough/skilled enough to try something, I remember how popular her stuff was, despite looking ‘low quality,’ and it reminds me that doing something low quality is better than not doing it at all!