#an all-encompassing desire to be With Her. such a new feeling that she just can't keep herself from giving in to

[pinkfey]

“if i turn from doing what’s right, i’ll lose myself” / “then i’m coming with you” / “i know :)”

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 and Kisses

~ enjoy :3 ~

Julian

Kissing him is never unemotional

Heated moments aside, Julian gives you both planned and unplanned kisses. Depending on the mood and context, how that feels and how that progresses can change drastically

He loves "occasion" kisses, tiny little pauses of the day's etiquette where he gets to swoop in and leave a peck on your cheek. Hello kisses, goodbye kisses, thanks-for-checking-on-me-at-2-AM-because-I'm-still-awake-from-thinking-too-much kisses ...

... though that last kind is less likely to be on the cheek, and more likely to be the most tired, grateful "thank you" you've ever heard, whispered against your lips as he trails after your touch

Unplanned kisses happen whenever someone says or does something that reminds him of what you mean to him. Between his scholar's brain and bleeding heart is a vast sea of sentiment

Maybe it's seeing one of the South End vendors, stooped with age, quietly lighting up as their equally weathered partner walks by on the other side of the canal and blows them a cheeky smooch

He never thought he'd live long enough to look like that, but now all he can think about is how he can't wait to be that with you

Then he's making good use of that massive coat of his, catching up to you in two long strides, pulling you into one of those all-encompassing hugs before he swoops the cape of it between you and prying eyes so he can pour his soul into a heartfelt kiss

Asra

Never the same and always the same, somehow

They don't care to be publicly vulnerable, so you're not going to get any lingering kisses in the street, or the market, or the tavern

But considering the extent to which his love for you has completely consumed him, he can't not express affection for you

And besides, they've never been conventional. Why limit themself to your face when you've got a whole body?

Unexpected kisses peppered across your knuckles when you hold hands. A subtle peck to the pulse point below your ear when he leans in to whisper something to you. The briefest brush of his lips against the back of your shoulder as you stand and wait together

All this without ever expecting anything in return - doing anything similarly sweet and subtle back will result in a blushing, stumbling, zoned-out magician and a laughing snake

Privately, kisses aren't about a heated moment (though they have been known to play into them, when you were interested ...)

They're about savoring you, lingering on the gift of your warm, living presence, delighting in their chance to luxuriate in finally expressing every ounce of devoted adoration for you

For someone as playful and creative as he is, every moment your mouths meet is a little different, a little new, that childlike curiosity excited to find yet another way to feel you

All while that loyal, bone-deep love feels like coming home

Nadia

Kissing her feels like you're being blessed

Getting kissed in public is almost always a statement of some kind. Each brush of her lips against your skin carries the weight of an important message

Anything from a kiss to your wrist, telling you that you handled a tricky situation well, to a firm kiss on your mouth, telling everyone around you that you are her most important person

It could be easy to feel you're just another face orbiting her, with how naturally she commands the attention of a room and takes charge of any situation and brings it into line

But when every moment of contact is designed to honor you, to credit you with the leader she's become, you may find that not sharing the spotlight with her is almost impossible

In private, kisses are raw and unrefined

They're still purposeful, but there's no grand painting to be a part of. The woman next to you is not the Countess, but the person who trusts you wholeheartedly and expects no less in return

Dizzying intensity, feeling every emotion freely expressed against your lips, watching her thoughts flit across her open, unguarded face. She desires vulnerability and abandons ceremony in her rush to be close to you. If there's no walls between you, why hold back?

Being the sole focus of such a powerful, regal person feels a bit like taking the concentrated power of the sun. Except it's Nadia, and her neverending need to saturate you with her love

Muriel

Kisses with him are tender

Halting and awkward, at first, and a little lost as he gets his practice, and much more involved and intense as time goes on, but never lacking in gentleness and consideration

You can count the amount of times he's kissed you in public on one hand. He is not into PDA by a long shot

Luckily for you, you two live in the woods. Being in public requires planning ahead. Being in private is another normal day

Casual kisses take time. They're never thoughtless, instead being something you receive in a split second after about ten minutes of intense mental planning and preparation on his part

Over time, you find it's easier for him to give you casual kisses with his fingertips - brushing your cheek gently, pressing one finger to his own lips before lightly tapping it to your nose

He has accidentally kissed your nose when he was aiming for your mouth multiple times now. The only way to convince him to get past it and keep initiating kisses was to make it an inside joke

Kisses for him are a way to reaffirm every silent promise he's made you. Whether it be his commitment to sticking life out with you, to healing, to growing, to protecting, to nurturing with you

To him, it's the weighty comfort of building a new home and family with you. To you, it's safety and trust and security and gentleness beyond imagining. Not the most heated, but always warm

Portia

Kissing her is like bubbling over

She loves fiercely and without restraint. If you're hers and she's yours, there is no reason to hold back

Kisses are her extension of general physical affection. She'll stand with her arm around you, nuzzling into your cheek as she teases you in conversation and planting a kiss there while she's at it

She's also so openly affectionate towards anyone she cares about that there's next to no room for anybody to feel awkward

If it's in reach and she's happy you're with her for the hundredth time that day, she's kissing it. Shoulders, arms, hands, elbows, nose, cheeks, hair - there are very few limits

Kisses in private don't get outrageously creative, but they take on a whole host of meanings for someone as expressive as she is

Frustrated kisses when she feels like she's failed, excited kisses when she's got a new idea, flirtatious kisses that make you feel those new couple butterflies after decades of life together

"You're irresistible with flour in your hair" kisses, scattered all across your face in her sunlit kitchen before she pulls you in for something longer and deeper and sweeter

"You make life feel like a storybook" kisses, full of suspended disbelief and excited giggles and romantic embraces

"You make me the main character of my story" kisses, lingering long as she holds you to her chest and savors your companionship

Lucio

Kissing him is an adventure

He wasn't used to kisses meaning much more than a good time. At least, not before you. By the time he met you, the ability to feel warmth and basic touch was overwhelmingly precious

As easy at it is for casual affection to be simply casual for him, it's never unappreciated, and certainly not taken for granted

Has no issues with PDA. If he wants a kiss, and you want a kiss, then it's time to enjoy a kiss. Anybody who has a problem with it is free to look in any other direction (though he's not thinking that far)

From moment to moment, they're the added spice to a good life. Sudden, rushed, sloppy kisses on the road just because he can, and because he's about to disregard that "no trespassing" sign

In quieter moments, kisses become so precious that each one feels like a polished gemstone falling into your lap

He's been starving all his life for a true connection, for a reliable affection that tells him it's safe to believe you when you tell him that you love him. He may act entitled, but he's not oblivious

Holding such a rollercoaster of a man while he loses both himself and all of his emotions in the safety of your kisses is enough to get you a little lost too, if you let yourself get drawn in

As much as he might grandstand and monologue as he puts all that leadership charisma into charming you, the moment you hold his face in your hands, he's clinging to your soul and offering his own in return. Through his mouth. Into your mouth. Again, please -

[thequietkid-moonie]

S/o with in-depth knowledge of psychology

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Mei, Teru ]

[ Toilet Bound Hanako-kun / Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun ]

⚠️ A little bit of spoilers in Mei's part

hehe want to heard something funny? I'm actually a psychologist soooo this may contain hints of actual psychology concepts and things... not too deep because there are waaaaay to much theories and ways to practicing psychology (test, exercises, branches of study, diferent theories, and so on, psychology encompasses many things) besides this should be just for fun!

Thanks for requesting it, I had a lot of fun with this!

Mei Shimiya

Mei sometimes feels trapped in her own rumor, having to always be painting can be pretty tiring at times and the gossips about the die of the Mei that once was alive just make it more tiring for her, but having you around definetly make it more bareble for her, she always has a sincere smile in her lips whenever you are around

Even if you aren't much of talking she always motivate you to talk about whatever you want while she paints, and even if she doesn't seem like it she always pays a lot of attention to what you say, even if you talk about silly things she heards you

She likes when you share your aknowledge about psychology with her, she isn't that interested on the topic but she does like a lot the passion in your voice, if you know so much it must be something you really like and that feeling give her some comfort because it reminds her to the human Mei Shimiya, the one who's wish was so stronge that even was able to pass death with her

Since she always paints you end up telling her about all you know about the psychology behing the art, about how the details are so important and can tell a lot of a person from it, although most of the time is used in specific test, asking for specific drawings and that each drawings reveal important and diferent things about the person. Or, also how there is a branche of psychology more based in the person's perspective, having of example the famous inkblots

As much as Mei likes hearing you rant about all of it she prefers if you don't talk only about art since she gets pretty tired of it quickly. She is actually really interested about all the aknowledge you have and is always willing to heard you rant about all you know, she can't help but smile and feel almost proud whenever you came to her to tell her something new you have just learn

Although, there are moments where Mei just want to stay in silent and enjoy your company, so she look at you in an attempt for you to catch what she is trying to say, if not she will ask you not so politely if you two could just talk about anything else, something that doesn't make her think and maybe cuddle. There are some times where also she need to be alone, all by herself, but if you really wants to be with her and talk about everything and anything she may end up drawing something with what you could distract yourself (she is willing to actually draw another Mei so you could just have her but also leave her alone)

After some time Mei will gain the courage to start asking you her own interest about psychology, by all the information you had share with her, Mei now has a better idea about the complexity of humans and now she can start asking herself, she tries to make it more general at first but slowly goes further and further in her point, asking about the humans in a aspect close to dead, as well about human's desire and passion, how they can get so determinated for something they want

Mei wants to be able to understand the human Mei Shimiya, the one that had unconsciously created her with her passion and wish of finishing that painting, she wants to be able to understand her so bad that she is kinda using you to try and understand her, she loves that you are willing to share your aknowledge with her because of love and that is why she hesitant so much while asking, she doesn't want to feel like she is using you or that she only wants you for your aknowledge or passion (and will hate for you to think that), and, in the other hand she is also a little scare of the answer, what if the answer she gets when understanding Mei doesn't let her satisfied or something? What would she do then?

Teru Minamoto

Teru's life is pretty rough, always having to worry about his studies, about his work as an exorsist, about his family, and for you too, he can't help but worry about you, but it isn't like more weight for him, he loves you so he doesn't mind at all having to look after you (even if you don't need it is just like a second nature for him)

Teru is really smart and is always taking seriously his studies since he wants to keep his status as the perfect student, so there are high chances that he also know a few things about psychology, although the field of study of psychology is so vast that it would be difficult for him to have as much aknowledge as you have (you can actually brag about how you win over him in this, it hits a little his pride but won't say anything because he loves you)

If you like talking about all your aknowledge Teru will be more than happy to heard you talk about it, maybe you two can debate about it with the little knowledge he owns, besides, he learn quickly so it won't be much trouble for him to follow you in the conversation, he likes to point out what he finds more interesting and hearing you own opinion about the topic, as well he will like to know what psychological current do you prefer, it may sound silly or simple but it could help him understand you more and the way you see the people and the world (but he won't tell you that, you could catch his protective intention on that)

Teru may or may not ask you for some advice with his brother, specially when he start feeling sympaty for the supernaturals, but aside from that he don't ask for much aplication of psychology in real life. If you do give him any advice for himself from psychology's point of view he will thank you with a smile but is more probably that he won't actually do it, not because he doesn't believe you, he is just too stubborn

Teru may be pretty easy to be tricked if you use any psychological technique on him, but only because he tent to let his guard down with you (unless he feels the need to protect you), although, is probably that it won't take him much time before he notice it and his reaction will depend on what you were trying to do, like trying to help him to get off of a bad habit he will just laugh at it and find adorable that you wanted to help him (and probably will finally listen to you), but if it is something that goes deeper and even gets into the limit, crossing to be more manipulative, you'll lose all his trust (even if he doesn't say it out loud)

If you two are together then you have to already know about him being an exorsist, and that lead him to warn you about the supernaturals, saying that they are a total threaten and there is no way they would feel any kind of sympaty for humans, so he insist that you shouldn't waist your time trying to aply psychology in them because they are far different from humans, it won't work anyways, the more you insist in trying to understand the supernaturals the more pushy he will be. But at the end he won't hurt you or stop you so if you really want to give them a chance he will make sure you don't go alone while trying to go and interact with them (even if is just you watching them from afar, you have him at your side), at the first and smallest threaten he will be already shielding you and vanishing the supernaturals, if it end up upseting you he will apologize but Teru can't just take the risk of something happening to you

[justanotherhh]

@girlbossradiodemon: Queerness as an insight into humanity. I am curious what that means.

heya, hope it's ok to move your question to a new post, because it gave me an opportunity to ramble about something I've been thinking about -- so we'll call this post:

hazbin hotel, aroace alastor, and complicating redemption

cannot remember how i phrased it in the original post, but the main crux of the idea about queerness as humanising is "when does horror and villainy use queerness as a shorthand for Other/deviant and when are those thing subverted"

in terms of alastor specifically, aspec identity (especially the kind that is on the repulsed side of things) is often used -- without people knowing they're even describing real experiences and identities -- as a way of describing a lack of feeling, a lack of empathy, a lack of connection with other human beings, as a way of signposting "this is going to be a Bad Guy, look at this person who can't engage in the Universal Human Experience Of Love (sometimes with the prerequisite desire for sex, and sometimes it's the just-wanting-sex-but-not-love that's the Evil Code)"

note here, of course, that a lack of empathy also shouldn't be a shorthand for evil! the word "psychopath" generally needs to be put on a high shelf for anyone writing anything unless they can prove they know what in the world they're talking about!!

with alastor, when reading with the aroace hat on, we get an insight into how he does relate to other people. rather than going "he's so evil he can't love," it's opening up questions about what sort of connections he does form with people, and how those are complex, and possibly there's a lot of backstory there -- that's part of the whole story we're seeing with pretty much all the main characters: "misfits who have struggled to form connections because of their specific brands of Weirdness (and also they're in hell)"

now something im interested in with him being aspec, is how the show also to an extent deconstructs the ideas that being alloromantic and allosexual are necessarily indicators of goodness, and could go a lot further in future, if it wanted to -- this works better because almost all the characters in this show are queer (and tbh, until niffty is confirmed to be allorom, i am hc'ing her as aro), and so there's much less risk of falling into the trap of "deviant sexualities vs normal sexualities" that even some shows with queer characters fall for, because they still set up monogamous, allosexual relationships as More Correct vs Other Kinds Of Queerness That Is Bad

in the hellaverse, being kinky isn't semiotics for evil, being poly isn't semiotics for evil, being arocoded isn't semiotics for evil, etcetc.

being aspec is a difficult pill for a lot of people to swallow, including other queers, especially aromanticism, and so it's neat to consider the potential of portraying depictions of love and sex that are healthy (charlie and vaggie, pentious and cherri bomb, etc) next to depictions of love and sex that are unhealthy/toxic/abusive (valentino's and vox's ways of interacting with these things) next to depictions of not-love and not-sex that are complex and (i hope) indicators of how to get to know a character better, rather than villainising or simplifying a character. that maybe initially a character like charlie (amongst others) might not get it, but that's something she needs to sort out, not alastor

it's another way the show could go a step deeper into deconstructing how we take in ideas about "goodness" in narrative and in life based on simple clichés, for example the idea that "love redeems you" -- well, what if you don't love? and what if you do love, but that's not an indicator of goodness at all? is "love" in fact an all-encompassing positive force in the first place? why do we place it on this pedestal?

in many ways the potential of alastor through being aroace, reminds me a little of how we see angel in season 1. he's introduced a Certain way -- as shallow, as someone who doesn't put the work in, as someone who "doesn't care," -- and these narratives are enforced diagetically and non-diagetically by showing that he's an addict and a sex worker. a lot of the scenes related to drugs and sex work and kinky sex are funny (crack is expensive), and/or are met with disgust by the main characters (the sex dungeon), are considered things he needs to overcome in order to be worthy of redemption (the roleplay with sir pentious)...

and then those things are pulled apart, and both narrative and characters go: "what's wrong with being a sex-worker? what's wrong with being an addict? hell, what's wrong with liking sex???" and through that "why does he need to prove himself to be redeemed?" and i predict, eventually, already heading in that direction "why even need to be redeemed when the problem is the black-and-white morality of pure goodness/badness to begin with?????"

and i think alastor being aroace could play a cool part in that. it's not love that makes alastor human, and it's certainly not sex. it's how he interacts with not fitting into those normative boxes, and how other characters, hopefully, eventually, will learn to see things from his perspective (at least, in this case)

the whole the idea of "queerness as an insight into humanity" is something both hazbin and helluva do really well, because of their portraying queerness as a given, as the thing that it simply is how these characters interact with the world -- whether good or bad or somewhere in between, the characters' queerness invites us to ask questions about them, and i think some characters offer that opportunity even more starkly than others...

i mean alastor of course. keeper of the aroace Themes.

so yeah. aroace as humanising. love doesn't mean goodness. what even does redemption mean?

[einsatzzz]

What colour does your love feel like?

tagged by @lixenn tagging @azaracyy, @yenosiria, @shiawase-rina, @cloudvaria, @social-muffin @melonchanverse (idk if ya'll alr did this)

Thank you for tagging me on this Lix! Answering this was so fun and the results are crazy accurate actually, I'm so surprised! I did it for Kurumi, Kana and Yui! The results are pretty long (+a few comments), so I'm putting it under here.

Kurumi: Bright Sunny Yellow

Sweet tasting popsicles, summer dresses and shielding your eyes from the sun. Your love is the excitement of something brewing, something growing. It's the almost childish bubbling giggles of something new, but with the potential to stay. It's wide smiles, blinding sunny light and warm bodies that gravitate to one another. It's the the softness, the willingness, the slight holding of breaths in a crucial "what if" moment. It's the impatience too. The bouncing on tiptoes to see further than your eyes can reach, the holding out for a future that never seems to come even though you're ready, you're so so so ready. It's the constant feeling of warm sand beneath your feet, holding out for the crashing waves. And still you wait, dry and impatient and with burnt soles of feet. Your love is sour candy, enjoying it as your nose scrunches up from the aftertaste of it. It's hands that grab and take hold, that reach and ask them to stay and hope and beg and wait. It's bubbling excitement sure, but it's also demanding, focused, driven. It's love like a plan, with a path and route and a clear destination. And you bounce on your tiptoes, and burning, waiting for the soothing water, the crashing waves, you hold onto the melting popsicle, you wait and wait and wait. It's tiring almost as much as it's lazer focused ambition, deeply rooted desire and the unrelenting hope that it will work, that it will come. And it does, I promise it does. The waves crash, the beach floods and the pain passes, the water cool and soothing and you can let yourself fall in, sinking, sinking. And it's good, it's perfect, what you were hoping and more, holding and embracing you and welcoming you into the stillness you always knew you were reaching for.

It's pretty lore accurate in both romantic and platonic aspects. The platonic aspect of it is more applicable to her childhood, when she yearns to feel more secure with her friendships. It's unintended, but the metaphors here parallels and fits so nicely with Kana's.

Kana: Dark Stormy Blue

Sinking ships, raging seas and tumultuous hearts, love isn't easy for you. It's a struggle, a constant inner fight of should I? Can I? Do I? Feelings are hard and they rumble inside you in a dissatisfied mess that begs to be let out. Your heart screams and cries inside you and you… You can't, you won't. You're scared. And love is scary, it's hard and sometimes it just doesn't work out. People leave, people hurt, people change their minds. And you and your cold stormy heart yearn for the calmness, for the distance, to be allowed and able to simply not feel. And yet, you do. It rages, it fights and storms inside you and you try to keep it down, keep it quiet, to feel pretending not to. It's the burn of childhood friends growing apart, of parents that aren't quite there, of relationships that burn out. So you snuff it down with water, cold and calming and blue, blue, blue. But being loved by you is blue too, just not in that way. It's the soothing, embracing feeling of floating, the moment when you sink down below the waves and become one with the water, with everything. It's the balance, the dramatic yet calming sound of waves that crash against a rocky shore. You're the good and the bad, the violence of the storm and the watery peace right after. You're the blue, blue feeling and loving you is watery tears, yelled confessions that no one will hear and burying your feelings in a deep watery grave never to be found out about. Your love is dark stormy blue, it's vast and deep and all encompassing, it's safety in the surface of danger, it's trusting the unruly abyss and yet I'd gladly risk drowning just to feel what it's like being loved by you.

In platonic terms, Kana is the wave and Kurumi is the person at the shore waiting for her to crash & soothe her pain. She may seem emotionless, but her love (if you earned it) is as vast as the ocean and as deep as the abyss (for better or for worse).

Yui: Deep Staining Red

Ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. Your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. It's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. It rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. Sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. Your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. And you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. Atlas holding up the world, how are you? Is your love still flowing? Is your heart still open? Still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? Still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? Because I see them, I read them, I love them and you, you, you, you. Clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. Spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. Make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. Maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

Note: His main color is actually gray, but since he has Lightning Flames, I'll use green as substitute for the highlights.

It has a similar feeling to Kurumi's but more bold in color (Yellow vs Red). Instead of waiting, he actively looks for them instead and makes himself seen, so he can be found. Keep going, it's okay, you'll find them.

[marciabrady]

TAGGED: TEN CHARACTERS YOU IDENTIFY WITH (&&&either add what you admire about each, or what it is that connects you to them!)

Ilene Woods' Cinderella: I love how humble, fun-loving, and enduring she is. I identify with her concentrated efforts to put her best foot forward and to try to keep from succumbing to her environment. While she sometimes feels she falls short at leading by example, frayed from everyday wear, she ultimately triumphs against all odds, alighted by her sense of worth, her steadfast industriousness, and prospers in turning the tide and creating a successful counterculture, all of which is inspiring to me. Marcia Brady: The personification of Leo energy; every notable actress who's ever played her is a Leo, and for good reason. She's magnetic, radiant, moral- without being sanctimonious- and a natural leader. Adriana Caselotti's Snow White: Her buoyant joy, resiliency, and never-ending humor create a beacon of light wherever she goes. I love how much a complete individual she is and how resourceful she is in forging a new life for herself, even when she's left with nothing. She never allows her misfortunes to change who she is, and I wish I had more of her compassion, purity, strength, and unaffected kindness. Blanche Devereaux: Blanche turns the act of living into a performance. The simplest run at the grocery store or day at work is suddenly a gripping, page-turning adventure, complete with anticipation, glamour, and a glossy lexicon. She's riveting and, while she has the same insecurities that many of us do, I admire the way she shows up for her friends. Katrina Van Tassel: This character is pure vibes for me. I love how mysterious and to-herself she is, while very clearly exhibiting motivations, a personality, and wants and needs. She isn't gauche in any way, tasteful in everything, and she practically invented the word coquette. Gilda: I think most everyone has a lot of Gilda in them. Someone who's easy touched and still influenced by many of their past haunts, but does their best to keep it from surfacing and letting their emotions get the best of them. I love the glamour and energy that exudes from Gilda effortlessly, and how layered she is. Ethel Mertz: I always think about that quote, "Lucy threw pies while Ethel threw shade." I love Lucy, but Ethel was always the standout for me. Her comedic timing was impeccable, her singing voice was unreal, and she represented so much of what I love about the older women in my life. Her sense of self is fixed, she's comfortable about her place in the world and has discovered who she is. She's such a loyal friend and has the type of talent that comes only from a lifetime of concentrated effort. The Little Mermaid: Ariel's fire, passion, and complicated nature is something I've continued to revisit from the first time that I've met her. She's messy, flawed, but so vulnerable, authentic, and likable that you can't help but root for her. I think anyone who's LGBTQIA+ can identify with her struggles but, beyond that, I love how true to herself she is, refusing to be tainted by the prejudices of others. She's just generally a very active, restless character with so many ebbs and tides of thoughts, feelings, and desires. Rapunzel (from the original Brothers Grimm fairytale): Out of the fairytale princesses, Rapunzel always spoke to me the most. I always loved the princess in the tower archetype and her hair being such a central point of the plot- and harkening back to the sun- is a very Leo quality, in my opinion. I think the fairytale Rapunzel has a lot of the same spirit and energy that Aurora in the animated Sleeping Beauty carries. Mary Costa's Aurora: This character changed my life in so many ways. She brought my best friends to me, started me down the path of writing, and has enriched my life in so many ways. I'm mesmerized by her enchanted, romantic quality, the all-encompassing way she loves, her sense of duty, obligation, and loyalty to those around her, her keen sense of humor, how she wants to give the best of herself to everyone, the unending source of love that springs from her...I could go on forever.

tagged by: @drinksattheendoftheworld (thank you!!!)

tagging: everyone!! but, off the top of my head in no particular order other than alphabetical - @arthina @bettedavis @deforest @deliachase @disneydayandnight @gavillain @magistera @margotfonteyns @muzikalsiren @oozmart @peasantbarbie @princessnostalgia @royalhans @sparklejamesysparkle @the-blue-fairie

[greenpidge101]

More it (book)quotes

Because I have nothing better to do :)

*Tw for graphic description of violence (Richie’s) *

Richie: here’s my lips! Mash them back against my teeth! Here’s my nose! Bloody it for sure and break it if you can! Box an ear so it swells up like a Calla flower! Split an eyebrow! Here’s my chin, go for the knock out button! Here are my eyes, so blue, and so magnified behind these hateful, hateful glasses, these horn-rimmed specs, one bow of which is held with adhesive tape. Break the specs! Drive the shards of glass into one of these eyes and close it forever! What the hell! (page 65)

Ben: Ben Hanscom had no sense of being lonely because he had never been anything but. If the condition had been new, or more localized, he might have understood, but loneliness both encompassed his life and overreached it. it’s simply was, like his double jointed thumb or the funny little jag inside one of his front teeth, the little jag his tongue began running over whenever he was nervous. (page 178)

Stanley: He wanted to tell them that there were worse things than being frightened. You could be frightened by things like almost having a car hit you while you were riding your bike or, before the Salk vaccine, getting polio. You could be frightened of the crazy man Khrushchev or of drowning if you went out over your head. You could be frightened of all those things and still function. But those things in the standpipe… He wanted to tell them that those dead boys who had lurched and shambled their way down the spiral staircase had done something worse than frighten him: they offended him (page 436)

Bill: We grew up. We didn’t think it would happen, not then, not to us. But I did, and if I go in there, it will be real: we’re all grownups now.(page 491)

Mike: Yo mamma (page 730) *I had too lol*

Sonia: I did this for you Eddie, she thought as she walked into the hospital with her head firmly up. I know you may feel a bit disappointed at first; that’s natural enough. But parents know better than their children. (Page 805)

Eddie: “Fight It!” Eddie raved at the others. “It’s just a fucking eye! Fight it! You hear me? Fight it, Bill! Kick the shit out of the sucker! Jesus Christ you fucking pussies I’m doing the Mashed Potatoes all over it AND I GOT A BROKEN ARM!” (Page 1043)

It: Little Friend… tell me, do you live all the cold dark out here? are you enjoying your grand tour of the nothingness that lies Outside? wait until you break through, Little Friend! wait until you break through to where I am! wait for that! wait for the deadlights! you’ll look and you’ll go mad… but you’ll live… and live… and live… inside them… inside Me… (page 1072)

Maturin It or Bill (I can't tell) ): (Chüd, this is Chüd, stand, be brave, be true, stand for your brother, your friends; believe, believe in all the things you have believed in, believe that if you tell the policeman you're lost he'll see that you get home safely, that there is a Tooth Fairy who lives in a huge enamel castle, and Santa Clause below the North Pole, making toys with his trove of elves,...... believe that your mother and father will love you again, that courage is possible and words will come smoothly every time; no more Losers, no more cowering in a hole in the ground and calling it a clubhouse, no more crying in Georgie's room because you couldn't save him and didn't know, believe in yourself, believe in the heat of that desire) (page 1074)

Beverly: But Beverly was now sitting with Eddie's head in her lap, cradling him. She had closed his eyes. "Go with Bill," she said. "If you let him die for nothing... if It comes back in another twenty-five years, or fifty, or even two thousand, I swear I'll... I'll haunt your ghosts. Go!" (page 1094)

[killdeercheer]

Studio Ghibli Reviews: Spirited Away (2001)

While my introduction to Studio Ghibli was a VHS copy of Kiki's Delivery Service, for many of you, seeing Spirited Away in theaters or on home release was the catalyst. Following one of many "retirements", Hayao Miyazaki had desired to write a film featuring a character at an age in between a young child and a teenager. He had several false starts, but each time always came around to a theme with a traditional Japanese bathhouse. What was going on behind the scenes? The end result became one of the most critically-acclaimed films of the studio's output and (some say) of animation history.

Plot: Chihiro Ogino is a 10-year-old girl without confidence or drive to weather any obstacles that come her way. While moving with her mother and father to a new home, the family decides to take a detour down a mysterious tunnel leading to an abandoned theme park. Without warning and almost unconsciously, her parents feast on prepared food until they turn into pigs. Soon Chihiro herself becomes trapped in the spirit world, which encompasses the amusement park as a resort for otherworldly essences. In particular, a large bathhouse run by the tough-as-nails spirit Yubaba becomes Chihiro's refuge while she figures out a way to save her parents. With the help of a few benevolent spirits, Chihiro slowly gains the courage we all need in life.

- this review will be mainly spoiler-free -

Spirited Away ranks #4 on my favorites list. I definitely think it's good - excellent, a perfect movie - but I have just a few other Ghibli films I love more. I can absolutely see why its reputation is so strong. Everything from its storytelling and pacing to its character growth to its design elements are well thought-out and crafted. Every scene has a purpose and flows as long as it needs to. The art direction is stunning and the animation is some of the Ghibli's best. I'm always struck by certain instances, like some of Chihiro's subtle expressions or small silent gestures from other characters. I can always tell what a character is thinking or feeling, even when nothing is said. Even with the lower-frame rate typical of Japanese animation, this is conveyed seemlessly.

The story itself is so touching to me. It would've been easy for a movie like this (with a character being whisked away into a magical world) to go an Alice in Wonderland route as just a series of wacky skits, but it doesn't. The central theme is finding courage and taking responsibility for your own wellbeing. Chihiro, our lead, is pretty helpless and pathetic when we meet her: she whines, gets scared easily, and struggles to perform tasks as simple as crossing a rocky-stream or carrying a piece of coal. And yet she's also kind and gentle, ready to help others. We see that she's so full of promise and we root for her all the way through this unforgiving spirit realm.

The spirit world itself is so intriguing, as it is not a separate world from our own but an almost translucent façade that seems to only manifest itself fully during the night hours. We're treated to so many creative designs for the different spirits and yet most of them are only passing glances. But it is just enough of a tease to make the viewer want to know this place even more. I certainly never get tired of seeing these spirits. Some are more humanoid than others, and there are many clear references to Japanese mythology that I've enjoyed learning about. The bathhouse workers, for example, are based on nature spirits: the men are frog-spirits that are heavily-stylized as amphibians, while the women (specifically Yuna, a term for traditional Japanese bathwomen) are slug-spirits, though they appear more like little chubby ladies. And then, of course, there's No-Face, but we'll get to him later.

Regarding the other characters, we're treated to another hearty-helping. I can't help but love them all and wish the movie was 10 hours longer so I could spend more time with them! I've mentioned Yubaba already, and for all intents-and-purposes she's our main antagonist. She's a witch with funko pop-proportions who can manipulate others with the quickness of her fingers, and she's a curious mix of menacing and comical. The bathhouse boiler-man, Kamaji, is a spider-spirit (or yōkai, apparently) is a kind elderly man underneath a tough exterior. He makes for some great moments, especially his interactions with the iconic soot-sprites. Kamaji acts as a valuable ally to Chihiro, alongside Lin, a weasel-spirit in the form of a lanky woman who provides a necessary big-sister role to Chihiro, and Haku, a dragon-spirit in the form of a boy who provides valuable tips and comfort to Chihiro. Taken together, our lead is in good hands with these wonderful allies, but it is still up to her to make the biggest leaps towards achieving her goals.

No-Face is one of the "mascots" of Studio Ghibli and his appearance and role in the film is interesting to say the least. I wouldn't call him an antagonist or a protagonist but that's not to say he's unimportant to the story. He is ultimately an obstacle to Chihiro and a test of her courage (I won't say why for the sake of keeping spoilers out), and when his characterization is fully-revealed by the end of the film you can't help but like him too. Some scenes featuring No-Face have a lot of... gross-imagery and might be disturbing to some viewers (like my partner), so take caution if you're a first-time viewer.

The voice-cast for the English Dub is a lot of fun and yet another example of stellar-vocal work for Studio Ghibli. Daveigh Chase plays Chihiro and she brings all the innocence, frustration, and heart that a little girl displays (she was also Lilo from Disney's Lilo & Stitch, who parallels a lot with Chihiro as a compelling and realistic young-lead). Haku is voiced by Jason "Thackery Binx" Marsden and you know for being a voice from my childhood he really adds something special to this character. I can't put my finger on it but maybe it's how warmly his interactions are with Chihiro? Those two are adorable together and the way his character arc is wrapped up gets me emotional every time. The late Suzanne Pleshette plays Yubaba and brings a delightfully witchy voice to such a devilish character (Pleshette plays another character with a 180° personality - won't say who - with the same voice and it works so well). Kamaji is voiced by the late David Ogden Stiers, a vocal genius, and performs in a similar vein to Pleshette as an elderly figure with authority and comfort. The amazing Susan Egan is Lin and dammit her performance here combined with the character design makes me blush a bit. Curiously, this is Stiers and Egan's 2nd adventure into Studio Ghibli voice-acting (both appeared in the dub for Porco Rosso). No-Face is voiced by Bob Bergen but his performance is mainly soft-breathing and groaning... but it works for such a mysterious spirit!

I don't think much needs to be added about the score: Joe Hisaishi is an incredible composer. I will say that the end-credits song, Itsumo Nando Demo by Youmi Kimura, never fails to make me cry. Especially considering the theme of the song (the name translates roughly as "Always WIth Me") and how it relates to Chihiro and Haku's relationship in the film. Which, I should clarify, is never really portrayed as romantic but it is still very sweet and could be seen as a "what if?" scenario, I suppose. Some of you may have heard of the online rumor about Haku being Chihiro's dead brother or something of that vein but I believe that is all it is, a rumor with no official backing. On the topic of rumors, there's also some discussion to be had about Chihiro's role as a bathhouse worker and how... squicky that could be considering the historic role of Yuna in Japanese bathhouses as nighttime prostitutes. This has also been confirmed as false by the filmmakers and thank goodness because how fucked up would it be for one of the most beloved animated films in the world to imply such a horrid thing?

Overall, Spirited Away is one of those Ghibli films that would make a great introduction to the studio's output. And it has such great rewatchability value too: even as an almost 2-hour film. This was the only Studio Ghibli film to win an Academy Award and, while I don't find awards shows like this objectively meaningful, they do have the potential to spread the world about great works of art (just look at Everything, Everywhere, All at Once). So it's good to know that this film opened the doors for so many people to enjoy these films. And, hopefully, I've been helping to make a case for them as well. If anything, if you only see one Ghibli film in your life, Spirited Away is a perfect one.

[second-wife-playbook]

The bedroom felt too quiet without the even sound of Striker's breathing in it. Cori didn't expect to fall asleep at all. Perhaps the anxiety attack she'd suffered was enough to wear her out.

She woke to stars in the sand and sky.

Night never came to Wrath. There was always that safe glow on the horizon, always a light, a beacon. But in her dreams, that light was gone. The stars above were cold, and falling into the sand. She felt a heavy chill, half sunk into the dunes, watching the sky fall in shimmering streaks. The comets that dropped from the sky in a flash of color and light before landing on the ground. Still star shaped...but they were turning black.

It felt so lonely. So very, very lonely.

"Goosebumps on my skin-" Her voice murmured softly in that all encompassing desert. "-Hairs on the back of my neck. Where do you begin? Where does the fantasy end?"

There was no sign of an end. The horizon was just dark sands in all directions. No way of telling where the sun rose or set. No way of knowing whether she'd been on this journey for months or was starting from scratch all over again.

But she stood.

She walked.

She sang.

"I was lost, you found me Left my whole world behind me I'm dizzy, you're jaded We slowly self-destructed~

"You Make it hard to love you Is that why you Make it hard to love you~"

Her heart was swelling fit to burst. Desire yes, but also regret. Regret that she had let herself come so far, for nothing. Let herself feel so much, want so much, for nothing.

What good was it for a Goetia to dream anyway?

He'll never love you back.

"Goosebumps on my skin Hairs on the back of my neck (stand up) Where do you begin? And where does the fantasy end? It's drivin' me wild To know that I can't have you Drivin' me wild To know that I can't have you anymore~"

"Anymore Anymore Anymore~"

In the stars, new constellations formed, linking thin threads. He was there. Of course. Her axis had moved on his gravity, her world flipped on his barest touch.

She was there too.

The woman he really loved.

"They said you Had her once, you lost her A family you had loved before You're burning, you’re angry Why can't you tell me truly?"

"You Make it hard to love you You know that you Make it hard to love you~"

Her feet dragged through the dark sand. The lovers in the stars, with him still holding her hand as tenderly as he'd held hers. And yet when her stars fell, his own fell apart, his constellation unraveling.

Of course he loved her.

He would always.

But he can't have her anymore.

Because of people like you.

"Goosebumps on my skin (goosebumps on my skin) Hairs on the back of my neck (stand up) Where do you begin? And where does the fantasy end? It's drivin' me wild To know that I can't have you (you can't have me) Drivin' me wild To know that I can't have you anymore~"

"Anymore Anymore Anymore~"

She was so tired. All Cori could do was sink to her knees. The sand swirled and shifted like a sea, and she began to sink as if her limbs were turning to lead. No instinct to fight, to swim, to keep her head above the sands existed any longer.

She watched the stars and let herself be swallowed, her voice murmuring the last words...

"No-no-no, no-no-no I can’t have you anymore No-no-no, no-no-no You can't have me anymore~"

The dusk laid outside the window.

Helpless to conquer the night inside her mind.

Gimme Shelter

@second-wife-playbook

(((continued from: )))

Striker nodded, his gaze softening as he listened to Cori.

"You're right, Cori. I didn't know ya then, and I didn't know how much I'd change."

He took a step closer, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Thank ya for understandin'. I know it ain't easy to hear, and I appreciate ya takin' it in stride. I reckon I do owe Stolas an apology, though like ya said, it ain't practical. Maybe someday, if the chance comes."

Striker sighed, the weight on his shoulders seeming a bit lighter.

"Although, in my defense, he kept makin' sexual comments when I was tryin' to do my job, so I got understandably angry."

[ddarker-dreams]

Came to your blog like I always do and saw all those asks about a new scara fic. Obviously I’m excited and while reading the asks I saw how ppl felt kinda bad for scara and I just went oh? so I was like okay okay let’s see what this is all about so I read “deluge” and dAmn! That was something else man…

Just absolutely beautiful writing. I can go off on a whole tangent but let’s just cover the main points as briefly as I can possibly make it. First, I love the idea of darling not being able to do much but simple things like playing koto outside and even that must be monitored. A very nice image in my head, no wonder scara “likes” her. Next, love to see other ppl serve darling. Idk it fuels my love for traditional Asian drama shows very much and I just really like the idea of hierarchy in fiction it’s very much delicious. Thirdly, love that trope(?) kind of thing where a person comes home earlier than expected and I feel like it’s very fitting for scara to do that considering he is a very very greedy man. Then, I like how you explored the concept of darling having no one to confide to and although it breaks my heart, that’s just the life of a wife of scara. Fifthly(is that a word?), it’s always great in media when the person just blurts out something and leave the other stunned. It was hilarious to read the part when she dropped the bomb.

And now to the most important part: scara’s reaction. It’s crazy how within 3.5k words you managed to encompass so many different emotions. Quite phenomenal really. The way you wrote to show and not tell was just ah chefs kiss. His desires, his impatience, and frustration turning into shock and slow acceptance. Ah the way you wrote was just amazing and you especially peaked when you wrote how scara was going to place his hand on darling’s belly (that innocence? Or kinda of fragility of that part was omg I can’t even-) and then with what you decided darling would say in response to scara, having that sort false kindness and praise. Even though I feel as tho darling doesn’t mean it in the slightest I can’t help but feel the bitter sweetness that comes with it. I now understand those asks that ppl sent in. When I finished I did actually feel bad for scara. Poor guy had bad encounters and unfortunately he let it mold him into the man he is. And omg the ending where they’re hugging each other, despite all the bad meanings it has, there’s that hint of genuine care and empathy that kills me. I just feel bad for darling AND scara now. Rip :(

i fell onto the floor in pure joy upon receiving this ask . i've read it so many times and. omg. thank you thank you thank you <3 there's nothing more valuable to a writer than feedback like this where you give your thoughts on various things ,, it's invaluable to me.

scaramouche ended up being much more of a complex character than i expected him to be, so i want to be able to somehow get that across in his stories. romantic relationships are just such new territory to him (and it doesn't help that his is unhealthy/barely qualifies as a relationship in the first place), so he isn't able to maintain that "i know everything" façade. he's doing mad improv and it's stressful. can't have the wife knowing that he's freaking out over this latest development, so he just defaults to getting snippy.

darling is playing him like the koto she was strumming earlier jhtkegm her last line is kinda meant to be obviously forced, but ah, it's just... said so sweetly. so he lets it slide, just this once. okay, maybe it can slide twice, but he swears he'll nip the behavior at that point. she's trying to be five steps ahead of him in the mental game of chess. the problem is that he's playing like, shogi or something. poor darling is doing what she can.

[dykepuffy]

Wistful Waltz - a puffychu fanmix

tracklist + notes under the cut!

SO! first thing first this is based on the dynamic ive created for them in my head. its how i think they should have played out if we had gotten more character interactions. so keep in mind this is mostly opinion of my own. either way i hope you enjoy!

this is technically two playlists in one, or rather two separate narratives happening alongside eachother. this is done intentionally to show how puffy and niki are at no point in their relationship 'on the same wave'. they have different ideas and expectations which just. Do Not Get Talked About. leading to a massive issue of miscommunication.

A Wistful Waltz - Teddy Hyde

Relativity proves That I'll see you soon

the beginning. this song encompasses their starting dynamic as well as highlighting obvious issues which will only get worse as time passes. its a dance, they waltz together to pass the days in simple peace. theres no need to speak or fight, just exist together. but of course the waltz must come to an end and they leave with that as the basis of their relationship. and with the belief that they will see eachother soon.

Exist For Love by AURORA

And then you take me in And everything in me begins to feel like I belong Like everybody needs a home

niki pov. nikis main drive is the need for community. the need for friends and love. and at this point she has that. schlatt is dead! its new l'manburg! and yes it seems the cabinet is moving on without her and wilbur, her best friend, is dead but, she just went on a date with a pretty girl! everything is turning up roses. and even when she does feel sad she knows she can depend on puffy. if she pours her entire self into this relationship is destined to work.

Love Like This - Kodaline

The sun will stop shining soon And you'll be dark in my life Yeah, you'll be gone, it's as simple as a change of heart But I'm not gonna think about the future

puffy pov. puffy on the other hand, is not having these thoughts. while she loves niki and shes truly having fun, she just doesnt need it. she wants it but nothing you want ever lasts long. and puffy doesnt understand how niki is feeling because she came onto the server post-doomsday. aswell on the fact that niki wont talk because their relationship isnt built on deep conversations, its built on fleeting moments of enjoyment spent together. to puffy, the end is inevitable because nothing lasts forever but she will enjoy while she can.

I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You - Charlie Burg

But I only think of you Will we be together soon? I'm thrown to the wayside You're planted in my mind, alright

But I don't wanna be okay without you

niki pov. time goes on and niki begins to find herself more isolated from her friends. tommy was exiled, dreams gaining control over new l'manburg, and everyone is moving on to do new things. so she turns to find comfort in puffy, an ever growing dependence on that fragile stability.

See You - Lady Lamb

Have we fucked ourselves over? Making our world so right Overnight

puffy pov. this is a song meant in jest. its puffy joking about the way their 'perfect' relationship came to be. a base of sweet nothings and simple songs cant form a serious relationship, not in the way niki desires. puffy knows this but she wont make any move to change it because she doesnt need to.

Cassiopeia - Anju

The both of us are breathing in each other's ears Our secrets speak different languages Still your whisper's clear

With you I feel grapefruit juice running in my blood I'm just a little confused what to think of us

niki pov. beginning of the end.

Training Montage - The Mountain Goats

I'm doing this for revenge I'm doing this to try and stay true I'm doing this for the ones They had to leave behind, I'm doing this for you

puffy pov. egg arc bay-be!! also this when they first start drifting apart bc puffy is busy

A Pearl - Mitski

You're growing tired of me You love me so hard and I still can't sleep You're growing tired of me And all the things I don't talk about

niki pov. its important to know that this is at around the time of her lowest point mentally and what she believes may not reflect reality.

Freakin' Out On the Interstate - Briston Maroney

I'm sorry I haven't been myself And something's got me down What it is, I cannot tell I won't be satisfied with anything I've earned Fear is just a part of love And one thing I found Is love is what you deserve

puffy pov. this is the height of the egg resistance.

All The Things She Said - Poppy

When they stop and stare, don't worry me 'Cause I'm feeling for her what she's feeling for me I can try to pretend, I can try to forget But it's driving me mad, going out of my head

niki pov. the previous sentiment of an emotionally confused narrator is still relevant.

Fraulein - Pale Young Gentlemen

She will turn me down, but then at least know that I'm around. So I pine for my fraulein.

puffy pov. its the banquet and spirits are high! they have a plan to take down the egg and shes confident in victory. she never expected to see niki here however.

Strange - Celeste

I am still me You are still you In the same place

Isn't it strange How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again?

niki pov. its the banquent and shes not feeling too good.

Heavy As Lead - Leyla McCalla

And that little heart, so little and complete Doesn't worry 'bout making ends meet As the dust is settling on every street I am filling with dread

puffy pov. post-banquent.

And You - Ill Spector

If you're a fool, then I'm a fool And you are If you're awake, then I'm awake And you are If you're alive, then I'm alive And you are, thank God If you're in love, then I'm in love Are you?

niki pov. she can never bring herself to hate puffy. no matter how angry or how bitter she feels. but she doesnt understand her or what she really thinks.

Long Haul - Voxtrot

I wanna catch a love and make it last Oh it's a long, long haul And you lie to us both We are words nothing holds

puffy pov. puffy isnt stupid, or oblivious. she knows theyre relationship disinigrated bc of the path she chose and shes regretful for that.

Is It True? - Mabel Ye

You're the perfect one for me I'm sure No other reason, see I'm torn- Is it true? I don't love you

niki pov. at long last shes settling her feelings.

Vanilla Curls - Teddy Hyde

Instant kindred inhibition, a kiss then distance It isn't over, lets call it: An infinite intermission

puffy pov. i said earlier that she wasnt stupid. i lied. now everything has been 'solved' shes still interested in niki and believes they really could get back together and be happy. lol.

Fish in the Sea - Liana Flores

I could drive myself mad Endlessly reliving moments we never had Painting brighter memories That can't match up to what's real, so I hold on to the past Hope that this won't last

niki pov. she is trying to move on. keyword: trying. but at least it ends on a fairly happy note!

[ask-the-crimson-king]

More Stuff from Betrayer

[While on the topic, I want to show the various humans out there a very interesting scene out of Betrayer.

Two, technically, but one that's a bit longer than the other. Image IDs will be provided at the end of the post, cause there's going to be a LOT.

Some interesting insights into how Lorgar views Chaos and a bit about the Emperor as well. I always find this scene to be fascinating, especially since he's borrowed the astropathic choir of the Conquerer to listen to worlds dying across Ultramar while he muses on this.

And then there's when Angron walks up.

Some interesting, albeit a bit morbid, banter between brothers. I do like how Angron even greets Lorgar on the way in, and Lorgar is just standing there stunned. The insights into how Angron views the Devourers is also neat, and it is to be expected at this point. Lorgar trying to argue for them and trying to get Angron to stop ignoring them outright is another neat touch.

The two begin talking of Ultramar, and Lorgar reveals that Nuceria is going to be the capstone for his ritual. Angron asks why, and the following is said:

I like this passage for a few reasons. Firstly, how Angron "dreams" has always been something of interest to me. Because I doubt he ever really gets much rest and respite. Here we get some insight into this, although this also was already expressed a bit earlier. This passage also leads into Angron's recollection of the Night of the Wolf, but I wanted to focus on this.

Lorgar and Angron's "bond" is something that's always intrigued me. It definitely feels more one-sided, with Lorgar seeking for brotherhood that isn't really there, but there are a few moments to make it feel a bit more genuine. However, there is still something missing from these interactions. I can't really describe it other than a barrier between two primarchs who will never see eye-to-eye. Lorgar does, to his credit, try to be understanding and patient throughout, but I can also definitely feel his annoyance coming through at certain places.

In a way, I can almost feel a similar sort of vibe to how Magnus interacts with some of his brothers. Namely with Perturabo in one of the opening chapters of his primarch novel. However, the bond between those two is still very different from the one Angron has with Lorgar; those two actually do have a deep connection, while these two don't. There's a misunderstanding and underestimation coming from both sides in certain aspects; Lorgar in almost sounding condescending to Angron, and Angron still thinking Lorgar a weakling.

TL;DR, Betrayer good.

Image IDs below the cut:

Image ID 1 & 2: A scene from Betrayer where Lorgar is standing and listening to worlds burn. It reads:

Serving as conductor for an astrological orchestra was more taxing than he’d dreamed, though his blunter, more militant brothers would struggle to grasp the finer points of his efforts. Exhaustion left him wondering, even if only briefly, whether absolute peace would create a stellar song as divinely inspired as absolute war. Fate had played its hand and Chaos was destined to swallow all creation whether or not Horus and Lorgar raged against the Imperial war machine, but if what if they’d stayed loyal to the Emperor? What then? Would the Great Crusade have shaped a serene funeral dirge, to play behind the veil as humanity died in a defenceless harrowing?

Therein lay the fatal flaw. The Emperor’s way was compliance, not peace. The two were as repellent to one another as opposing lodestones. It didn’t matter what enlightenment the Imperium stamped out in its conquering crusade when obedience was all its lords desired. It didn’t matter what wars were fought from now into eternity. The Legiones Astartes would always march, for they were born to do so. There would always be war; even if the Great Crusade had been allowed to reach the galaxy’s every edge, there would never be peace. Discontent would seethe. Populations would rebel. Worlds would rise up. Human nature eventually sent men and women questing for the truth, and tyrants always fell to the truth.

No peace. Only war.

Lorgar felt his blood run cold. Only war. Those were words to echo into eternity.

He didn’t trust the Ten Thousand Futures the way Erebus claimed to. Too many possibilities forked from every decision made by every living thing. What use was prophecy when all it offered was what might happen? Lorgar was not so devoid of imagination that he needed the warp’s twisting guesswork to show him that. Anyone with an iota of vision could imagine what might happen. Genius lay in engineering events according to one’s own goals, not in blindly heeding the laughter of mad gods.

More than that, Lorgar sought to keep one thing in mind above all else. The gods were powerful, without doubt, but they were fickle beings. Each worked against its own kin more often than not, spilling conflicting prophecies into their prophets’ minds. Perhaps they weren’t even sentient in the way a mortal mind could encompass. They seemed as much the manifestations of primal emotion as they did individual essences.

But no, there was a wide gulf between hearing them and heeding them. Gods lied, just like men. Gods deceived and clashed and sought to advance their own dominions over their rivals’. Lorgar trusted none of their prophecies.

Image ID 3-5: A series of screenshots from Betrayer. Angron comes into the scene. It reads:

Angron entered the basilica, armoured in his usual stylised bronze and ceramite and with two oversized chainswords strapped to his back. He even wasted time with a greeting, raising his hand in the first time Lorgar could ever remember such a gesture from his broken brother. The Word Bearer tried not to let his amazement show at his brother’s new consideration.

‘Lotara says you stole her astropathic choir.’ Angron’s lipless smile was a ghastly thing indeed. ‘I see that she may have been correct.’

‘Stole is a strong word. “Appropriated” seems much less ignoble.’ Lorgar spared a glance for the skies above the cathedral, as the Lex ripped onwards towards Nuceria.

‘What do you need them for?’ Angron asked. His wounds from being buried alive had already faded to scrunched scar tissue pebbling his flesh, just another host of scarring to overlay the last.

The Devourers lurked behind him, stomping into the cathedral without the primarch sparing them a glance. To be one of Angron’s bodyguards was no honour, despite how fiercely the World Eaters’ champions had fought for it in the first, optimistic years. Angron ignored them no matter where they went, never once fighting alongside them in battle. In their Terminator plate, they’d never managed to keep up with their liege lord, and they were as prone to losing control as any other World Eater, meaning any hope of them fighting as an organised pack was a forlorn one at best.

Lorgar watched the Devourers – those warriors who’d spent a century learning to swallow their pride and pretend they weren’t ignored – speaking amongst themselves at the basilica’s entrance.

‘Hail,’ he greeted them. They seemed uneasy at being addressed, offering hesitant and wordless bows.

Angron snorted at his brother acknowledging them. ‘Bodyguards,’ he said. ‘Even their name annoys me. “Devourers”, as if I’d named them myself – as if they were the Legion’s finest.’

‘Their intentions are pure,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘They seek to honour you. It’s not their fault you leave them behind in every battle.’

‘They’re not even the Legion’s fiercest fighters, any more. That rogue Delvarus refuses to challenge for a place in their ranks. Khârn laughed when I asked him if he’d ever considered it. And do you know Bloodspitter?’

‘I know Bloodspitter,’ Lorgar replied. Everyone knew Bloodspitter.

‘He beat one of them in the pits, and carved his name into the poor bastard’s armour with a combat knife.’

Lorgar forced a smile. ‘Yes. Delightful.’

Angron’s face wrenched again, at the mercy of misfiring muscles. ‘What primarch ever needed guarding by lesser men?’

‘Ferrus,’ Lorgar said softly. ‘Vulkan.’

Angron laughed, the sound rich and true, yet harsh as a bitter wind. ‘It’s good to hear you joke about those weaklings. I was getting bored of you mourning them.’

It was no joke, but Lorgar had no desire to shatter his brother’s fragile good humour. ‘I only mourn the dead,’ Lorgar conceded. ‘I don’t mourn Vulkan.’

‘He’s as good as dead.’ The World Eater smiled again. ‘I’m sure he wishes he were. Now, what are you doing with Lotara’s choir?’

‘Listening to them sing of other worlds and other wars.’

Angron stared, unimpressed. ‘Specifics,’ he said, ‘while I have the patience to hear such details.’

‘Just listen,’ Lorgar replied.

Angron did as he was bid. After a minute or more had passed, he nodded once. ‘You’re listening to the Five Hundred Worlds burning.’

‘Something like that. These are the voices of the freshly dead, and those soon to join them. The mortis-moments of random souls, elsewhere in Ultramar, as our fleets ravage their worlds.’

‘Morbid, priest. Even for you.’

‘We’re inflicting this destruction on them. We mustn’t consider ourselves distant from it. It may not be our hands holding the bolters and blades, but we are still the architects of this annihilation. It’s our place to listen to it, to remember the martyred dead, and to meditate on all we’ve wrought.’

‘I wish you well with it,’ said Angron. ‘But why steal Lotara’s choir? What happened to yours?’

‘They died.’

It was Angron’s turn to be surprised. ‘How did they die?’

‘Screaming.’ Lorgar showed no emotion at all. ‘What brings you here, brother?’

Image ID 6 & 7: Two screenshots from later in the previous scene, when Angron asks 'Why Nuceria?'. It reads:

‘The metaphysics are complicated,’ said Lorgar.

That had Angron growling. ‘I may not have wasted days in debate with you and Magnus inside our father’s Palace, but the Nails haven’t left me an absolute fool. I asked the question, Lorgar. You answer it. And do so without lying, if you can manage such a feat.’

The Word Bearer met his brother’s eyes, and the rarely-seen palette of emotions within their depths. Pain was there in abundance, but so was the frustration of living with a misfiring mind, and the savagery that transcended anger itself. Angron was a creature that had come to make his hatred a blade to be used in battle. He’d weaponised his own emotions, where most living beings were slaves to theirs. Lorgar couldn’t help but admire the strength in that.

‘We’re going to Nuceria,’ he said, ‘because of you. Because of the Nails.’

Angron stared, and his silence beckoned for his brother to continue.

‘They’re killing you,’ Lorgar admitted. ‘Faster than I thought. Faster than anyone realised. The rate of degeneration has accelerated even in the last few months. Your implants were never designed for a primarch’s brain matter. Your physiology is trying to heal the damage as the Nails bite deeper, but it’s a game of pushing and pulling, with both sides evenly matched.’

Angron took this with an impassive shrug. ‘Guesswork.’

‘I can see souls and hear the music of creation,’ Lorgar smiled. ‘In comparison, this is nothing. The Twelfth Legion’s archives are comprehensive enough, you know. Your behaviour tells the rest of the tale, along with the pain I sense radiating from you each and every time we meet. Your entire brain is remapped and rewired, slaved to the implants’ impulses. Tell me, when was the last time you dreamed?’

‘I don’t dream.’ The answer was immediate, almost fiercely fast. ‘I’ve never dreamed.’

Lorgar’s gentle eyes caught the warp’s kaleidoscopic light as he tilted his head. ‘Now you’re lying, brother.’

‘It’s no lie.’ Angron’s thick fingers twitched and curled, closing around the ghosts of weapons. ‘The Nails scarcely let me sleep. How would I dream?’

Lorgar didn’t miss the rising tension in his brother’s body language – the veins in his temples rising from scarred skin, the feral hunch of the shoulders, no different from a hunting cat drawing into a crouch before it struck.

‘You once told me the Nails stole your slumber,’ Lorgar conceded, ‘but you also said they let you dream.’

Angron took a step closer. He started to say ‘I meant…’ but Lorgar’s earthy glare stopped him cold.

‘They give you a serenity and peace you can find nowhere else. Humans, legionaries, primarchs… everything alive must sleep, must rest, must allow its brain a period of respite. The remapping of your mind denies you this. You don’t dream with your eyes closed. You dream with your eyes open, chasing the rush of whatever peace the Nails can give you.’ Lorgar met Angron’s eyes again. ‘Don’t insult us both by denying it. You slaver and murmur when you kill, mumbling about chasing serenity and how close it feels. I’ve heard you. I’ve looked into your heart and soul when you’re lost to the Nails. Your sons, with their crude copies of your implants, have their minds rewritten to feel joy only in adrenaline’s kiss. Those lesser implants cause pain because they scrape the nerves raw, thus your World Eaters kill because it gladdens their reforged hearts, and ceases the pain knifing into their muscles. Your Butcher’s Nails are a more sinister and predatory design, ruining all cognition, stealing any peace. They are killing you, gladiator. And you ask why I’m taking you back to Nuceria? Is it not obvious?’

End Image ID.]

[fullcfphobias-a]

A hand abruptly shoves at Oz's back, pushing and pestering through the fabric of the sleeping bag. Another comes, nudging more incessantly, before finally they pull back a hint. Just enough for a hard nose to shove itself against the base of their neck, finding the hollow where it connects to the spine, growing more and more impatient.

It's the middle of the night. Everything lays in a blanket of heavy darkness, closing in with oppressive force as insects sing nighttime choruses in the darkness. Oz's assailant still smells of the outside, of cooling night air and the winged things of sweltering summer, though the darkness doesn't reveal much of the shape. Below that, as that hard nose and head nudges even harder against them, there comes the scent of strawberries and saltwater.

"Are you awake?" Miranda's voice is dampened by the darkness, but arrives with a quiver that she still hasn't been able to shake off. Before Oz can offer any kind of answer, she's laying next to them, upper torso lifted and draped haphazardly across their back, chin propped up against the shoulder she had just been shaking for their attention. "I'm joining you."

Between two layers of pajamas and one layer of sleeping covers, she can't really feel them below. But she can't be left alone. Not with her head still rattled, her throat still sore from the shock of screaming. Thank every god there is that her RV is soundproof. She's not going back to sleep again anyways, not with the rattle of night terrors still in her brain, repeating again and again after so many years, but Miranda can't afford someone else figuring out how bad they are.

But being alone with only her thoughts isn't an option. The darkness is a home for her, but homes aren't invulnerable. Everything's too much - the images that still flash through her brain like aftershocks, making her shoulders quiver even as she presses them against the shape of Oz. Grand, open rooms with glittering light displays and all the images of worship. Empty rooms, blank and void-like. The grabbing of hands, the edges of knives, the pinching of bindings. Miranda tries not to think of it that hard. Thinking about it only brings it back for even more sleepless nights, and it's just dreams after all. Childhood nightmares. People have childhood nightmares. Nothing else to it.

There's a part of her that wants to ask for comfort. Her eyes still burn, after all, despair sitting heavy on her heart, though she doesn't know why. But Miranda also doesn't care to ask. It's not her duty to be comforted. It's not in her title to be seen like this.

So Miranda just lays there. Silent, and awake. Laying on top of her friend in the blind, impulsive need for companionship, to not be alone with her thoughts.

Oz had a lot of words to describe their finicky sleep schedule, though they never thought the day would come where helpful would be added to the list. An ear twitched, almost a warning prior to the hand connecting to their back. There was a moment where the drowsiness continued to cling to them, over as quick as it came thanks to the nose meeting the back of their neck.

Pale eyes shot open, natural glow now visible due to the darkness encompassing everything around them. They should’ve been terrified, should’ve been scrambling back as far from their presumed attacker as possible, but the amalgam found that those feelings never came. Instead, something more primal situated itself.

Whispers, panicked but deafened buzzed in the back of their head. Shattered images formed in the corner of their vision, kept at bay by the conditioned rejection of their presence. These visions, these terrors lingering within the air, they were not theirs to indulge. No longer the towering beast of nightmares, they had no excuse to snap up whatever fears entered their radar. They were civilized now, no longer a mindless force of nature.

They had to remember that, less their conviction begin to falter.

Swiftly did the mer’s voice cut through their inner conflict, dragging them back into the present moment. Her question was met with a mumbled confirmation, the amalgam simply adjusting position slightly to accommodate the addition of the princess. Though it seemed they wouldn’t be brushing unconsciousness anytime soon, Oz found they didn’t particularly mind the uninvited guest.

Though specifics were shut from their mind, the general feeling of her terror continued to linger. Slowly are their arms removed from the sleeping bag, brushing against the mer before settling around her. The the innate desire to pull her fears from her, filtered through their new social constraints, birthed the objective to comfort.

Gentle pats, soft murmurs of reassurance, both are offered up to the princess as her company was adjusted to.

[regali-s]

I’LL FOLLOW YOU ➽ ZHONG LI

genre: entirely self indulgent, that’s the genre. this is just me being selfish and writing something for the first in a long time

wc: 1.5k

warnings: self indulgent. not at all a reader insert (or at least not yet i’m deciding on it still)

a/n: literally this is just for my own satisfaction. that’s it. i just want to write something for him. it’s also to get myself back into writing a little bit? i’m not gonna out this up in the tags i’ll just, let it sit here on my blog because i don’t have a large following and i feel comfortable having it here as something i wrote! as such, i won’t be doing a taglist for this um.. unless requested otherwise and if anyone’s actually interested in keeping up with it? then let me know in that case but this is really just a selfish project of mine until i decide whether or not i’ll turn it into an official work

there's the whisper of legends that are shrouded in fog, the mutterings of names that even the divine would learn to fear.

the requiem told by monsoon rains is a familiar one in celestia, a despairing melody whose tongue dances with the lick of thunder and lightning that should illuminate the heavens and all her dominions beneath. of the ruthlessness and utter destruction that would dare lift its hand against a god and arise victorious, there are to be offerings of terror and fear so potent, so violent, that it would devour what false illusion of solace is left to be found. it is the hymn of crashing waves that cry with a deafening silence, soundless and domineering as it consumes and takes and devours, until all that should remain of gods and realms will lay forgotten beneath the ocean floor.

morax is no stranger to the story of astaroth, a demon so greatly revered in terror that even celestia would pause at the mention of her name. a fallen god who was stricken down from her throne for a sin left untold, she'd be forever lost to redemption, her place with the divine left to rot with the passage of time. and yet, celestia would warn kingdoms and empires of her name — beseeched its gods to never earn her displeasure. what power is there so great, that even the heavens should hesitate against it? morax had never understood this in his youth, yet all the same, he drew no questions and dared not to ever utter a word of that monsoon demon. even in the throes of brash recklessness, he knew better than to keep dark legends in his heart, and he'd for long been content with letting that story be woven by mothers putting their children to bed.

so then why now, as golden eyes meet those of the deepest red, does he recall that particular tale?

he finds her at luhua pool beneath a lonely moon, her company welcomed by its silver glow as it encompasses her image and brings her to the light of a distant dream, paints its visage along her brown skin with a gentleness a lover would bear. he doesn't feel a wind, and yet her long, black braids and the few strands that are left to curl freely around her head, they sway ever so slightly as she faces him, appearing to him like an illusion — a mirage conjured by burning desserts and merciless suns. here beneath the moonlight, this woman of blood reds and blackened night skies pulls him into a trance and shows to him visions forbidden when she smiles, and with a voice like the softest silk and a windborne melody, she beckons him closer.

"keep me company for a while, won't you?"

it's an innocent request, her voice hiding nothing beneath it save for the promise of another body to stay by his side for the night, and morax sees no reason to refuse. thus, he finds himself next to this woman beneath a watchful moon, her companion for however long she would decide him to be.

for a while, there are no words spoken between them, a silence lulling across the surface of the water and falling over their bodies like a blanket, their world caught within these seconds that flow like molasses. she seems content to let that quietness persist, allows their words to rest on abandon and instead gazes at the stars above.  it's almost as if she's looking for something, her eyes flickering with the reflection of millions of silver lights, the taste of wistfulness that clouds pools of red would pull him in until he finds himself drowning. and in those eyes and among her stars, morax sees a certain something that he can't put a name to. it grabs a hold of his mind and leaves him wondering, until his heart begins to ache with the loss of it and his soul dances on yearning and a curious desire.

then, she speaks, and on that whisper lost to the wind, morax finds his breath disappears for a moment.

"what value is there to life?"

the question is vague yet weighted, the words behind it would overflow with what felt like a lifetime of searching. and perhaps, morax considers as he lets his eyes linger on this woman, searching has been all she had ever known. when she lets her eyes fall from the night sky and turns to him, he sees an eternity spent on want and desire, a longing for purpose — for value, yet even as she turns to him for an answer, her whispered words and the faint smile that plays across her lips seem almost hopeless. what kind of life must she have lead to have left her feeling so lost and abandoned, he ponders, and when he turns his eyes to the skies above, he wonders if he'll find an answer among those shining secrets.

for some time, he remains quiet, lets the question tumble around inside his chest and he thinks to himself. he's lived for an eternity and eons more, witnessed the rise and fall of gods and men, watched civilizations build from sand and create legends to be worshipped and idols to be forgotten, yet he finds himself wanting of an answer to her question. what value is there to life? to be born and to die? such has been the order of everything beneath the heavens — where life is created, death must inevitably follow. even the divine, as he'd long known, are no exception, and when he thinks on the severity of it all, he lets himself think if for a moment that the very purpose of life is damnation.

and yet, he knows that there's much more to it all than that.

"the value of life is growth," he gives his answer to the wind and to her, lets his voice permeate the silence and to find solace with what they may. "we exist to live and to learn, to grow day by day with an ever-changing world. even gods are no masters of existence as they too must obey the passage of time... every living thing must adapt, and to adapt, you must learn."

when he lets his eyes wander over to her, he finds that she's already looking at him with something like wander, her attention hangs on each and every word as if he spoke to her the most sacred scripture. it invokes within him something foreign, a feeling that is lost on him and simmers beneath his chest like the beginnings of a gentle flame. and from that flame, he gives to her a promise that holds to it such great weight and severity that it stuns even himself. so bold is he with his words that he would find himself feeling bashful and embarrassed many years later, but in this moment here, he gives them to her with the strongest sincerity and utterance that his growing, learning heart can offer.

"and, if you still find yourself searching for value or reason, then take me as your own, and i'll give to you what i can."

and this woman — gods, he still has yet to learn her name and to give her his own — she looks up at him with something new in her eyes. the stars in them glisten like thousands of fireflies as she asks him quietly, "and what must i give to you in return?"

ah. morax pauses; he hadn't necessarily thought of that. he allows himself a moment to think on it as his fingers weave together, eyes drifting to where the moon and stars dance atop the waters. "all that i ask in return is that you provide me company, just as i provided you tonight. be by my side for as long as you would like to and, in return, i will be whatever it is you need of me. let's call it a contract, shall we?"

"a contract?" she parrots, tilting her head. morax notices the way her braids fall ever so slightly to the side, and he thinks that the way she peers so curiously and, perhaps a bit confused, is nearly endearing.

"but of course," he says smoothly. "this is a gain and give agreement, wouldn't you say?"

the woman turns her eyes away in thought, lips pouted in her contemplation and her brows slightly creased as she hums. "well..." she mutters, "it feels a bit... uneven, doesn't it? it feels as if i'm gaining far more than you are."

"is that how it feels?" morax raises one eyebrow, watching as his companion nods her head, still wearing that concerned expression as she awaits his response. he chuckles, the sound rumbling within his chest like a gentle timbre. "having another's company after being alone for a long time is invaluable," he tells her with confidence and a certain knowledge that takes with it the reminder of an old pain. "i can assure you that simply having you by my side will be more than enough."

his answer soothes her worries, it seems, as she allows a smile to grow where her lips once pouted. half-lidded eyes show to him the beginnings of gratitude and devotion, and hidden behind them is a promise that he'd yet to learn of.

"well then," she laughs ever so slightly, her head tilted and eyes twinkling when she looks at him. "i'll do my best not to let you down then."

[fangsfics]

Die a hero?...No thanks Chapter 7

Trigger warning: self depreciating thoughts/ thoughts of disappearing

If someone asked Flug to describe dementia in one word, he'd slap them and repeat the word chaotic ten times. Why ten times, they may ask. That's because once doesn't even begin to encompass the chaotic nature of her. Thinking back, he was glad to have dropped 505 back at his apartment.

Thirty minutes into “Dementia style fun” and they were running from an angry mob of pissed off mall shoppers. No, she didn't try to steal anything. Stealing something would have been an easier feat compared to this. No, what she did was much worse. Within those thirty minutes, not only had she managed to fill every single elevator and escalator with bubble gum and cotton candy (pulled out from nowhere!!), but also positioned every single mannequin into extremely explicit positions in front of children shops and made it rain energy drinks from the sprinkler system. Flug was somehow roped into achieving the last one all on his own.

The worst part of it all was that Flug was having the time of his life! The adrenaline, feeling of exhilaration, the burn of lungs, it was all so great!

It was also horrible. He was a hero, a person of the upper moral echelon. He should be the one stopping people from committing these actions, not actively participating in it. But yet, he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad. Logically, he knew he should but the feelings weren't bubbling up like he thought they would.

No, he felt euphoric, like he was on top of the world! Nothing could stop him now!

Right now they were running from a mob of angry mall goers. He could hear the angry slaps of their feet and the loud cursing from right behind them. The mob was right on their heels and it was so damn exciting!

“Hey Fluggy buggy, what'd I tell ya? It's fun isn't it?!” Dementia screamed over the roar of the crowd.

Panting heavily, he threw her a large grin and a thumbs up.

“Eeeeee! I knew you'd love it! It's my favorite pass time on the weekends! Although I can't do it too often cause then the people recognize me and I get chased out before I can even do anything. Boring!” She threw her hands up, emphasising her last word.

He snorted loudly and looked back at the crowd to flip them off. Cries of indignation rang out and he snorted harder. Hah, what a riot! Dementia began to laugh wildly as well and screamed cuss words back at the crowd, causing them to rile up even more.

God, when was the last time he had this much fun? Honestly, he's never. Not in his childhood, teenagehood, current hood, never…Disappointing, he needed to have this more often.

Looking over at Dementia with her wide crazed smile, hair going crazy in the wind, he also realized he's never felt this comfortable with someone before either. He felt that they clicked in a way that no one could even begin to understand. A loud, chaotic earthquake and a calm ocean combining to create a devastating tsunami, ripping and terrorizing the local populace.

It was powerful, crazy, destructive! It was...was...pure fucking fun!!

He cackled madly and grabbed Dementia, pulling her into a side alley. She yelped at the sudden handling of her and glared at him.

“What are you doing?! Let me go! No one, but bon-bon touches me without permission!”

She gnawed at his arm in anger, seething at his audacity to touch her. She growled when he ignored her. They skid to a stop when they hit the end of the alley. The mob crowded in and blocked off the entrance.

“We have you now!”

“You can't run from us anymore!”

“You're gonna pay for ruining my clothes!”

“Uh, hey nerd? What's the plan now that you've trapped us?” Dementia whispered as she spit out a square of his lab coat. She stared anxiously at the crowd behind them. Flug turned around and scoured through his pockets, throwing small bits of paper away angrily. As his hand touched cold metal, he grinned and pulled out a small green and black disk.

“My plan is...this!” He yelled manically, slapping the disk onto his chest. The green glowed brightly as both Flug and Dementia began to float upward. Dementia's eyes widened as she felt herself become weightless. He cackled madly as the angry mob screamed in anger at their escape.

“Woah!! Fucking sweet dude! I'm flying!”

“We're flying, Dementia!”

“IM FLYINGGGGGG!”

Flug smirked at her and chuckled. He decided that he liked her, she was fun, interesting, kind of annoying. She could be the first friend he's ever had, 505 didn't count cause he was kinda like a son rather than a friend.

They rose about an inch above the building, bobbing up and down like a buoy. Flug gently placed her down on the roof and reached up to take off the disk. With a sudden small pop, the little disk exploded into several pieces causing Flug to fall face first onto the rooftop. He groaned in pain as he pushed himself up onto his knees, rubbing the irritated areas.

“Hahahahaha Seems like the nerd's also a clumsy dunce! Better watch out or you'll trip on air!”

Ok, she'd be an irritating friend. Still better than what he's had.

“Dementia! Shut up! I'm not clumsy, my device simply malfunctioned!”

“Oh Oh, that's even better” she giggled, “That means you're not a nerd anymore, no more smarts! Hahaha welcome to the brawn club, Population, Dementia~”

Flug rolled his eyes at her.

“You do realize smart people can make mistakes right?”

He looked over what was left of the disk. Most of the protective plastic had melted off and the wires had fused together. It was hard to tell what went wrong, but with his tools at home he could determine the cause in no time. It worked pretty well for a prototype.

“Does that mean I'm smart, Fluggy buggy?! Cause I've been told I'm dumber than rocks. Though I bet they wish they didn't say anything at all considering they died by said rocks a few moments later. That was pretty fun actually! Anyway I'm smart now!” Dementia gasped dramatically. “Maybe I can be Black Hat's nerd!”

“What? Dementia no. Yeah, you're smart in your own way, but you can't be Black Hat's “nerd”. It takes years of learning and mechanical knowledge. Plus who would take care of your job now?Also, you can't be smarter than me...Wait, I don't even want to be Black Hat's nerd. Fuck, scientist! Look at what you're making me say now!”

“Omg, you're so right!” Dementia squealed, ignoring his last statement, “Blacky would be without his body guard if I wasn't there! Look at your arms, there's no way you could take that place. They're practically sticks! Alright, you be the nerd and I'll be the brute! I'll even come and grace you with my magnificent prowess by smashing things!!”

“What n-”

“FEDOR ALYOSHA FLUG! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!” A thick Russian voice cut Flug off.

On the roof right behind them was Flug's dad, Strong Man, absolutely red in the face with anger. There was a large cracked crater under his feet, showcasing the strength of his landing. Dementia, deciding to take a strategic retreat, camouflaged and scurried away.

“D-dad, hold on! Please, it's not what it...looks like?”

Strong man glared sharply at his son.

“Don't. Even. Try. I know what happened and I  beyond angry. Causing a scene at the mall, vandalizing property, constructing lewd scenes?! I taught you better than this. We're leaving now and you better have a good excuse or you might end up back at the academy!”

Strong man grabbed Flug's arm and dragged him away.

____________________

Dementia watched as Flug and the large hero vanished from view. She hadn't completely left Flug to the hero's mercy. She hid behind a large vent, waiting for an opportunity to rescue him or that was what she expected to happen. What she didn't expect was for the hero to claim to be Flug's dad.

Flug's dad, a hero… digusting! She scrunched over, gagging at the thought. Ugh, she had to do something about this. Poor Fluggy trapped under a hero's lineage, stopped from causing mayhem at his heart's desire. He needed to be rescue as fast as possible.

First things first, Black hat needed to know. She stared at the spot they disappeared from, then scurried away toward the hat mansion.

_____________________

Flug slammed against the soft cushions of his couch. It didn't hurt, but his vision spun from the force of his impact. His dad stood before him, hand still outstretched from having shoved Flug down. Looking at the intimidating stature of his father, Flug’s body trembled in fear as he pushed himself up, his arms barely having enough strength to accomplish this. Strong man roughly shoved him down again, this time leaning his face inches away from Flug's own.

“You can't even begin to imagine the depth of anger right now. How could you do something like that?!” He choked, his voice tight with barely restrained rage, “I understood when you acted out as a teenager, that's normal, but now? Now you have no excuse. Where is your medicine?! I know you haven't been taking it!”

“Dad wai-”

“No! I don't want your excuses! You don't get any excuses anymore! You are a hero now! You have expectations that you must fulfill. Do you know how hard it was for me to make sure no one recognized you and that you didn't get arrested?!”

“If I could just expla-”

“You don't! You were too busy fraternizing with your new ‘friend’, causing trouble, ignoring any thought of the consequences! I have more than half a mind to get rid of this apartment and force you back to the academy, you obviously can't handle your freedom!”

“What! You can't do that! I paid for this and I am-”

“My son, I can do whatever I want with you! I raised you from childhood to adulthood, you are mine! Watch your tongue or I will go through with it! Do you understand?”

“.....”

“I said. Do. You. Understand?”

“...yes отец.”

“Good. From now on, you will come visit me every morning at 8 am so I can watch you take your meds. I will be the one giving them to you, so that way you can't switch them with sugar pills. And don't even say that you won't switch them, you can't be trusted with your medicine on your own anymore. I expect you tomorrow at 8 on the dot. If you are late even once from now on, it's the academy for you.”

With the last word, he stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door with finality.

Flug stared at the door and watched the wall splinter with cracks from the strength of slam. He didn't know when he started crying. The tears simply began to roll lightly down his face. He reached up to wipe at them, but they didn't stop no matter how many he wiped away. He didn't even know why he was crying, he felt completely numb.  

Well he did at first. After a moment, pure sorrow cut through him like a sharp knife, crying turned to sobbing. His wails echoed through the apartment. He felt alone, pathetic, worthless. Nothing about him was worth a damn in the world. Maybe everyone would be happier if he just dis-

Warmth enveloped him in a hug and soft coos were purred next to his ear. 505, the gentle and loving bear that he had saved without a second thought. The bear that he had made a difference to, that he mattered to. He might not matter to anyone else in the world, but he knew that he mattered to 505.

He turned around and hugged 505 tightly around the middle as he bawled. He didn't think, he just let himself feel and get all the horrible sad emotions inside of him out.

He sat there, cuddled up to 505 until his tears ran dry and he felt numb again. His head hurt and his eyes burned. If he closed his eyes would everything disappear, would his pain stop? He pushed his face deeper into the soft blue fur and drifted off to a deep sleep.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

TW!!: Mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation

Fuck it I'm bulletpointing this:

After her trial she goes back home because where else is she supposed to go

She's not really aware of getting from the clearing to the house

Everything is a bit of blur and she feels numb

She collapses once inside the front door against it

Slowly what happened starts to sink in

She just killed her coven

Her coven who always ignored her unless it suited their purposes

She just murdered her mother

Her mother who's hated her since as far back as she can remember

Her own voice haunts her

"I can be good"

"No you cannot"

No she cannot

Not when she's also killed off whatever humanity she believed she had within her

Her mother was right - she is a monster

Her hands have curled into fists

Her mother's brooch digs into the soft skin of her palm

There's a sharp pain as the needle of it pierces her skin

Knee jerk reaction - she lets it fall

But doesn't she deserve to pay for what she's done?

What's a little pain compared to the death that she's caused

She's not aware that she's crying until a tear drops off her chin and splashes onto the brooch as she reaches to pick it up

She tries to stab herself again

And again when her magic rises to the surface of her skin, preventing the needle from touching her

and again and again and again and again and

She throws the brooch across the room and starts clawing at her arms, creating angry red lines

At least she can feel that

(because no matter how much she tries to feel angry or sad or guilty or rage or panic the only thing she feels is an all encompassing numbness)

Eventually she realizes that she can't even feel her clawing anymore

She looks down to find her magic is once more protecting her from herself, a thin line of blood smudged down her arm from a scratch she created

She loses it

She wants to be able to feel something, anything

Ugly sobs are ripped from her

She tries to stand but her muscles give out

Anyway she can create pain with her own two hands she does it

At least until her fucking magic decides that she needs to find a new thing

It's ironic, she notes somewhere in the back of her mind, that the thing she killed for is the thing she'd do anything to get rid of now

There's a brief thought of simply dying, but she desires life too much to entertain such a thing

She wishes she didn't, she wishes she just let her mother kill her instead

Eventually her body can't take anymore stress and black wells up over her

When she wakes up she's still numb

It's a rinse and repeat

She isn't sure how long she stays like that

She isn't entirely sure of the next few years after that, to be honest

It's all a messy, tangled blur of numbness

What she does know is that it results in her being far, far away from Salem

From her sins

What she does know is that by the time she's aware and not numb it's been years and years, and her fingers are now slowly staining blacker and blacker

A fitting punishment for her crimes

Her magic still won't let her her hurt herself

But that doesn't stop her from trying

She never stops trying

She probably should stop trying

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

Bonus:

Agnes seems to have the same compulsion

Agnes doesn't have any magic from preventing her from carving neat lines into her skin

It's the one thing Agatha is thankful for in her mind-prision

The pain helps the fog in both their heads

It keeps them grounded

Wanda's overreaction to finding out is ridiculous

She doesn't need therapy

Wanda does

She's not broken, she's not, she's not, she's not

Okay wait before I forget:

I headcanon that magic makes it super hard to sh, because it doesn't want the witch to hurt themselves or whatever and just Agatha totally breaking down trying to feel ANYTHING after her trial and just yeah