#all for one being....all for one

[grimalkinmessor]

afo/yoichi, horror, sweets 🍭

AFOFA/Horror/Sweets

———

"You have to let me go."

Takashi hums, plucking a cute pink mochi off the counter and taking a bite. It's strawberry. "You're beginning to sound like a broken record."

Yoichi stares at him, mouth twisted into a frown. Predictably, he repeats, "You have to let me go."

The mochi is delicious, as always. Yoichi has always been a wonderful little chef. These might even be more elegantly made than the last time his brother graced him with them.

Well, when handling ice cream, Takashi thinks that a lack of body heat might help.

Yoichi's fingertips are an icy sort of blue. The pale flush that used to tint his skin, his lips, his hands, has been drained away to make way for an ashen gray complexion. At night, when Takashi cradles him against his chest and kisses him sweetly, he's as cold as snow.

Takashi doesn't mind.

The silence of Yoichi's once lively heart is nothing compared to the silence the lack of his presence incites. Takashi had known that the revenant Quirk he'd acquired would come in clutch one day, even with all that drivel the original owner had spouted about vengeful ghosts—he'd never regret calling Yoichi back.

Even if his complaints do become repetitive after a while.

"I don't belong here," Yoichi insists. Another familiar protest.

"Anywhere I am is where you belong," Takashi dismisses, selecting a soft brown mochi—salted caramel, if he's not mistaken—and bringing it up to Yoichi's mouth. "Here."

Yoichi's brow furrows in frustration, but it's not the same sort of fiery anger that once would've gripped him. Death seems to have mellowed him. Takashi supposes the myth of emotions residing in the heart must have a ring of truth to it.

Still, Yoichi parts his lips and bites into the sweet, incisors glancing off the tips of Takashi's fingers. His teeth have grown rather sharp as of late.

Yoichi chews and swallows mechanically, allowing Takashi to feed him the rest of the mochi before turning his head away. Takashi knows that Yoichi can't taste proper food anymore, that even his favorite flavors taste like ash in his mouth. Still, Takashi enjoys the act of feeding him, of feeling his lips move and his tongue flit across the pads of Takashi's fingers in a habitual instinct to gather the crumbs of things he can no longer appreciate.

"I've long accepted the fact that expecting you to be grateful for the things I do for you is a losing battle, even for something as poignant as giving you life," Takashi drawls, biting into another mochi with a pleased noise. Licking ice cream from his fingers, Takashi glances at Yoichi through his lashes and smiles wryly. "But do try to understand that I did it because I love you."

"You always say that," Yoichi says softly, retreating a bit so he can look out the window. He can't see much; it's raining outside, and the glass is fogged.

Hooking his arm around Yoichi's thin waist, Takashi pulls him away from the window and against his chest, an old paranoia striking through him. He cups Yoichi's jaw in his hand, drawing him up into a kiss. Yoichi goes easily, a breath like winter peat feathering against Takashi's mouth as he sighs.

Content, Takashi pulls back and waves a hand to banish the mochi to the freezer, using a Quirk to banish all the ingredients used to make them back into their proper places. Rubbing his thumb across Yoichi's cheek, hand tight against his hip, Takashi murmurs, "Come sit with me."

Yoichi's hands curl tightly in Takashi's shirt, cutting his collar into the back of his neck in a small jerk, sharp but brief. It's rather unclear whether the motion was meant to hurt Takashi, or to bring him closer. With how contradictory his brother has always been, Takashi wouldn't be surprised if it were both.

He doesn't grant Yoichi time to respond, merely sweeping them both into the living room, where he can sit in the arm chair next to the fireplace, Yoichi tucked in next to him, and feel the heat warm his brother's skin to something almost human. Yoichi huffs as he's cradled close again, his head tucked snugly beneath Takashi's chin, but that's all the protest he gives. He sits quietly and lets Takashi hold him, his whitened eyes falling shut as Takashi begins to card his fingers through his hair.

"You're not ever going to let me go, are you?" Yoichi whispers after a moment, a minute, an hour of quiet.

"No," Takashi whispers back, fisting Yoichi's hair in his hand. It's not even a question. Not even a thought in his mind.

Yoichi's hand falls to rest, clawed, over Takashi's heart. When he speaks, he sounds solemn. "You can't keep me forever, aniki. Everything ends. Everything dies."

"But not you," Takashi muses, pressing a smile into the crown of Yoichi's head. "Not for a good long while yet."

Yoichi doesn't respond. He merely slides his hand up, fingers brushing the side of Takashi's neck, cold and unbreathing. Filled with longing, as he always is, for things that will only bring him ruin.

Takashi hums, closing his eyes, and tracks the slow creep of warmth that spreads across Yoichi's body. He's not sure when he falls asleep, only that he does, because when he wakes, the sun has fully set and Yoichi is nowhere to be seen.

But Takashi doesn't panic. He smells coffee and tea brewing in the kitchen, hears the soft padding of socked feet across tile floor and the ceramic clink of glassware being shuffled around. And sure enough, Yoichi eventually emerges with two cups and a plate balanced in his elbow. He doesn't have the same grace he once did, but he's very careful with movements, making sure not to drop anything.

When he sees Takashi awake, he pauses, but comes forward anyway. He sets the plate and green mug on the table next to the armchair, before retreating to sit on the floor with his back to the fireplace, his own pink mug of iced tea cradled in both hands.

Pleasantly surprised, Takashi looks over the plate to see the rest of the mochi crowded upon it, the coffee in his cup flat white, just how he likes it. "Feeling affectionate?"

"I want to make popsicles," Yoichi says quietly. "I need the freezer space."

"Of course," Takashi laughs. There's not much else for Yoichi to do now but read and cook, after all. He sips his coffee, plucking up a sweet with what seems to be chocolate syrup drizzled on top, but upon touching his tongue tastes more like black sesame. An odd combination, but not unpleasant. "I just had one of Ujiko's interns buy strawberries, you can use those. I know y—" Takashi cuts off as his vision suddenly begins to swim, spots blooming across his eyes. Vertigo swarms him, and he attempts to stand, alarmed, but topples to the ground in a heap when his legs fail him.

Yoichi watches him, impassive. He sets his tea aside and lays down in front of Takashi to meet his eyes. Panicked red locks with cloudy green, and Yoichi smiles.

"Everything dies, aniki. Even you."

"You didn't—" Takashi gasps, his lungs constricting. He has Quirks that spare him from poisons, he has Quirks that flush his blood. "You...can't have..."

"The power you used to revive me has some side effects," Yoichi murmurs. "You are surrounded by ghosts, Takashi. They whispered to me, told what I could do. I used my blood."

Vengeful ghosts, the original owner had said.

Takashi can't do more than pant and stare as Yoichi reaches out and runs cold fingers through his hair. It's—absurd. Takashi can't help but laugh.

"I didn't want to," Yoichi breathes, his strength weakening with Takashi's. "But it's like you said."

Takashi's breath rattles, shallow and faltering, and as his vision fades he begins to see. Figures coalesce all around them, rising up like rearing snakes, faces twisted and angry and mourning at the corners of his vision.

"Anywhere I am is where you belong," Yoichi whispers.

They take their last breath together, before the ghosts come crashing.

———

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[soothedcerberus]

Remenber: shrinkp is bugs

[bereft-of-frogs]

There’s that post that’s like ‘everyone should get into a tiny niche fandom at least once’ fully agree, that was really fun -- but I would like to add that everyone should get into a fandom where their opinions run counter to major fanon because it really teaches you about sticking to your guns and trusting your interpretation of the text without having to rely on peer validation

because WHAT are people talking about sometimes

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Welp, if JK Rowling being executive producer and therefore being fully involved in the show wasn't enough for people to boycott, then here's HBO basically saying they don't care JK Rowling is a bigot from hell who literally helped lead a harassment campaign of lies against Imane Khalif in her transphobia and obsession with women being terf's standards of women alongside posting harassment against trans people on twitter at times, they gonna stand by her, while using the excuse, "personal views". Hmm, yes, personal views- that's one way to uh, call what the fuck JK Rowling comes out with a-lot- last I checked personal views do come with consquiences if said out loud....a thousand times in JK's case and still counting....especially if they hurt people, but hey, if it means making another Harry Potter project to milk, just let it fucking be I guess.

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[symphonyofsilence]

Let the poor man rest.

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[iwasbored777]

We're not appreciating the Weird Barbie enough. It's said in the movie that she helps everyone who need help while they always see her as someone who's not as good as them. She was friends with all dismissed Barbies and Kens, was there to offer support and safe shelter for everyone who needed it in Kendom, without her nothing in the movie would've been alright. When Stereotypical Barbie calls her "ugly and unwanted" she still helps her.

She was representing a woman in women's world who was pushed aside by other women because she didn't fit in but still had more wisdom and kindness than everyone who thought they're better than her.

[noknowshame]

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[mangozic]

pre-distortion michael shelley but pointier and more shaped

[doubledudeski]

pics that make you go "oh I KNOW he eated a trash"

[ink-the-artist]

Video game I saw in a dream. It was in this low poly style like an older video game. You play as this character I think was meant to be a lamb, or maybe a weird mix of a lamb a mouse and a rabbit, (while not really looking like any of those things) and you’re running away from a wolf. Your objective is to last as long as possible before the wolf catches and eats you.

The house you’re running in is endless and bizarrely put together like most building interiors in dreams are (like the infinite toilet dream dimension on Reddit lol) the layout of the house is pretty detailed, you can stop and hide in places like closets or bins while the wolf looks for you, you can go up and down stairs and into rooms etc.

You never actually know where the wolf is or how close it is to you until it appears in your line of sight, it makes no noise and the game gives you no way of knowing where it is, and it’s pretty unpredictable it doesnt move at a consistent pace. When the wolf catches you there’s an animation showing it eating your character