#but the visual is still on my mind and he’s still rotating in my brain

[timethehobo]

Still haven’t gotten to him yet but I needed a self-indulgent doodle. 😔

[rovsemyri]

I smoked away my brain..(plug!k.choso) ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

❄️UP ON MY GUMS , (I THINK THEY GOIN NUMB!)

now playing: demons- a$ap rocky

cw: plug!choso / drug dealer!choso, soft dom!choso, fem!reader, dubcon (kinda; sex under the influence), car sex, praising, riding, pussydrunk chosooo!, plot(kinda?), unprotected sex, creampie ₊˚ෆ₊

synopsis: it’s a friday night after work, you finally have the weekend off! stressed, you decide to call your plug, choso. you met him through one of your closest co-workers, yuiji after finding out he had a brother, since then, I guess you can say that you became choso's favorite customer — ★ (intended lowercase)

levy's note⭒⊹ ࣪ ˖: not my best work (i wrote this while i was high) :( but the show must go on. i had the idea to add visual links but i didn't know if people would be cool wit that, so lmk! tyy :) *there may be spelling errors,etc*

╰⟢ it was a late friday night and you didn’t have work tomorrow, so what did u do? called choso, your plug of course. though he was your drug dealer, you knew him a little bit more than his other customers, might even say, you got special treatment. choso was always laid back, he hated people in his business so not many people knew much about him, you wouldn’t have met him if it weren't for yuiji. 

 when he arrived, you stood outside the car door , just talking for a moment before he asked if you wanted to chill for a bit, suggesting you smoke a few blunts and talk…as you know, he always enjoyed your company. 

“so how you been, ma?” he asks, passing you the blunt as he fights a grin asking you the question. taking it from his hand, you take a pull before answering, “ tired, work has been stressing me out lately, but i’m doing okay” you flash him a small smile before taking another pull from the blunt. “you've been staying after hours, right?” he laughed a little, you could tell he was already buzzed. “you stalking me?” you ask, keeping up the light mood. passing the blunt back to him, your body began to feel heavy. 

“nahh, yuiji told me. the boy never shuts up about you, he’s worried bout you”, he says nonchalantly, taking another hit from the blunt. “you gotta take it easy for realll” his words slowing down a little. you could feel your head start to spin as the car became filled with more and more smoke, making your brain blank a little. “i’m doing fine though! just make sure you tell him to not worry when you get back” you laugh a little at the fact that yuiji worried about you and told his brother. choso takes a few pulls before outing the blunt. “you ain’t fine, you just said you was stressed” his words slur a little, the bud getting to his head. “ know i had smoke with you real quick, mama” he says with a grin on his face, pulling out another pre-rolled blunt, passing it to you with his lighter.

“being generous tonight, cho?” you smile at him, lighting the next blunt. “ you said you were stressed…you know i gotchu.” he says looking at you with a soft expression, making eye contact you try to avert your eyes. though choso was your friend’s brother you couldn’t help but admit he was so fucking hot. he was the quiet type, never spoke too much about himself or his life, he was a chill type of guy. that's what made you take interest in him, he was a mystery, really. 

you continue to spend the night just talking, getting things off your mind. choso was always a good listener and it seemed like he loved to listen to you talk. you could sometimes feel the way his eyes are glued to your lips as you're talking…or when he thinks you're not looking, you could feel the way his low eyes trace your figure as you tell him about what's going on. your mind gets more and more intoxicated as the rotation continues several times, somehow he’s still going, waiting for you to tap out or break the box. 

it's getting later as you both continue to talk, rotation going back forth as well, reminiscing about the past you both giggle and laugh. the euphoric feeling takes over your body, you haven’t felt this high in a really long time, you almost feel yourself twitching. choso lets out a soft laugh before passing the blunt back to you, his eyes low and red. “hmmph, cho, you’re not tapping out yet?” you pout giving him a playful hit on his arm before taking the blunt from his slender fingers. “think you could out smoke me, baby?” his tone lowers, a grin plastered on his face, laying back in his seat he watches as you look surprised at the name he called you. 

“of course i can!” you reply quickly with a smile on your face. “what you suggestin’ , girl? we try?” he says, his words slow and slurred, looking up at you making eye contact with you. 

you tried to avoid his eyes as you took another hit from the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how hot he looked when he was high, you thought maybe shit was just getting to your head. 

“why you keep lookin’ away from me, ma?” he couldn’t help but laugh a little, clearly intoxicated. he passes you another blunt again with his lighter, willing to give into your little game. you kill off the blunt before looking at him, taking the next blunt from him to light , he couldn't help but smile. you could tell choso was on a different planet at the moment but you both felt the tension. “ you're gonna regret this, baby. you can’t out-smoke me” his tone was lower than before. you laugh, exhaling before passing it back to him.” you said you were being generous tonight, right cho?” you tease him, thinking that he’ll tap out sooner or later. the rotation continued.

and somehow, you find yourself in the backseat of choso’s car, the two front seats pushed back, making enough space for you to be perfectly sat on top of him. one hand on your hips, gripping them firmly. His shirt and your clothes are discarded and thrown onto the dashboard of the car and on the car floor. your chest pressed against his as he has one hand harshly holding down your hips on top of him, and the other around your neck. smashing his lips onto yours as the hand on your neck slightly tightened as it guided you to keep up with how he was moving. 

his kisses become sloppier by the minute as you grant his tongue access to yours, before he pulls away, loosening the grip on your neck and allowing you to catch your breath. “this is what ya’ get, baby” he groans, his gaze focused on the way your body looked as you were on top of him, trying to catch your breath. you couldn’t help but take a minute to breathe, his hands traveling to your lower body. his two large hands on your hips, gripping them firmly, slightly pushing your clothed cunt against his tightening bulge, his jeans unbuckled & pushed down far enough to reveal the wet spot forming in his boxers..“cmonn, please help me, baby” choso whined, guiding your hips to grind against his bulge through your soaked panties. . “choso, you’re just really high right now, relax” you pat his head before looking down at him, your hands on his shoulders. 

he groans, throwing his head back before pulling you closer to his chest. “fuck, i’m so impatient, girl” he whines, burying his face into your neck. one of the hands-on your hips now placed on ur neck, you almost gasp at the feeling of the slightly tight grip on your neck “cho.. take it easy on me” you choke out trying to keep yourself composed as you could feel how hard the poor boy was under you. 

planting wet kisses and leaving deep shades of red and purple on your neck, you bite your tongue to hold back the small yelps that almost escape your lips each time you feel his teeth gently sink into the sensitive spots of your neck

poor thing, he couldn’t help but think about how badly he wanted to stuff your tight cunt. his head spinning and low eyes making it worse, he needed it. 

“please let me fuck you, baby” he whines into your neck, he couldn’t take it anymore. he barely waits for you to nod before choso let’s out a soft growl, growing needier by the moment, one of his hands moving away from your hips. slowly moving down to your panties.

he brushes his thumb over your clit, “just the tip baby, I promise” he whines, looking up at you with his low red eyes, moving your panties to the side , “promise??” you move one of your hands down to his erection, freeing them from his boxers. “promise, doll face” he says, lining himself up with you, his hands digging into your soft hips. 

you choke back a moan as the tip of his cock enters your soaking cunt. a loud whimper escapes his lips as he throws his head back. he couldn’t take it , your tight cunt was squeezing his leaking tip. he wanted to see how you’d take him sooo bad. 

 “fuck- i’m s-sorry ma but-“ he manages to say through his sped up breathing before roughly pushing your hips down, your cunt stretching around him as he throws his head back in pleasure. “chosoo, you p-promised” you moan loudly. “sorry baby, take it for me… please?” he almost finds himself begging. 

his rough hands hold your body up, rutting his hips into you at a slow but steady pace, allowing you to get used to the feeling, kissing your cervix each time he comes back down. bouncing yourself back on him, one of his hands cup your face forcing you to look at him with your teary eyes. 

he couldn’t help himself from taking in every part of you. he loved watching the way you tried to hide the way your facial expression changed each time his tip hit the right spot. admiring the pretty sounds you made for him and only him to hear. he loved knowing that he was the one relieving your stress. 

““fuckkk .. you move your hips so well. keep riding me s-so fucking good.” he moans loudly before pulling you closer to him. you could swear his voice was louder than yours but he just couldn’t help it. 

you feel the tears well up in your eyes as his pace begins to quicken, pounding into you, the vibrations riding along your sensitive clit making you moan louder with pleasure. “-- ngh! feels good .. s-so good,” you babble, your body getting tired, you lean on his chest for more support. 

your nails digging into his back, the pain almost giving him more energy, he pounds into you harder making the sounds you were making impossible to suppress. you feel the knots in your stomach tighten. 

“c-cumming—m’ gonna c-cum mmph!!” you whine, 

“ cmon baby,, cum on my dick m’ almost there” he groans in your ear as you grip his shoulders tighter. you feel a euphoric wave overtake your body as he continues to chase his high, fucking you through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking as he overstimulates your weak spot. 

“fuckfuckfuckfuck!--- p-please take it, princess. m’ right there” he’s at the point of tears. your vision is blurry as you watch as he desperately fucks into you. you weakly push yourself back against him, attempting to help him. 

“i’m cumming, p-please don’t stop” he whines loudly as he continued to fuck into you before feeling his dick twitch inside of you, his breathing became heavier. he buries his face into your neck, whimpering as he paints your tight gummy walls white, riding out his high.

he lifts his head, face stained with tears, he looks at you with low eyes, trying to catch his breath. 

“ think ya got one more fa’ me, princess?” 

[disruptivevoib]

Sorry for commenting these and then sending them again in asks my brain skipped over the "send in asks part" I'm quite bad at reading /lh (also sorry if I'm giving you too many notifs ;;)

Anyway for the different aesthetics

Mind: Dark Academia is amazing for him but I've seen a lot of people saying goth which goth Mind would be sick

Heart: the other day in the cjfs I was talking about Heart being like emo but with a white pallet instead of black (if that makes sense) I was fighting for my life to find a refrence but I think it would still be cool to see (I know white based goth exists but its not the same)

Soul: I don't really have any thoughts for Soul he would fit a lot of different aesthetics lately I've been rotating the idea of Soul with a 90s aesthetic in a arcade carpet/mascot kind of way if that makes sense?? (My brain is stupid so the only thing I can think to put this thought into something visual is fresh sans???) Yeah it's silly but idk I think it would be fun lol

Of course no pressure to do any of these!

Its no problem!

I did Mind and Heart \o/! Soul got sketched but I didn't really love it, and I figure the kidcore soul was similar enough in aesthetic too!

Anyways, more traditional goth mind and emo heart!

[spaceratprodigy]

Let's hear about that Pride & Prejudice AU bestie 💖🧡

Anyone that's known me for a long time knows that no matter what, I will find a way to make a Pride & Prejudice AU with OCs 😤

This particular iteration is my favorite tho! This time around we have crafted a P&P AU focused on Faith and Rhea ( @captastra ) meeting and falling in love with Max and Felix 👀

I have admittedly been very slow getting around to it, but it has genuinely been one of the biggest things I have been wanting to work on for months. But, you know how it is, not having the time to dedicate to this project was a big factor and it's probably gonna be even longer until I get to it now that I'm moving out and have to get a new desk and set up my workspace.

And, truthfully, I am very very excited about this one and I really want to take my time and put the love into it!! It is 100% absolutely one of the highest things on my to-do list and it's never stopped rotating in my brain.

ANYWAY ON TO WHAT I HAVE PLANNED

Sooooo, I have 4 small illustrations so far that I really want to make :]

Nothing super massive and extravagant right now, just a set I haven't been able to get out of my mind regarding different interactions!

The more fleshed out concepts I have are for a Faith and Rhea interaction and a Max and Felix interaction. Both separate but meant to mirror each other!

For Faith and Rhea I was thinking about them late at night, soft lighting, maybe they're laying in bed together, but they're very excitedly talking about the lads they met and how dashing they are and what the interactions they had with them were like and whether or not some feelings had been sparked, etc etc.

For Max and Felix, the conversation is the same but about the gals! I have a vague idea of the setting I want to draw them in, but I haven't fully decided yet. I really like the idea of Felix head over heels for Rhea and asking Max for advice on how to approach her again. I feel like he just really doesn't want to mess this one up 🥺 I also like the idea of Felix pestering Max on his thoughts about Faith, and Max being very avoidant, not wanting to answer, but also not being able to hide that people noticed he couldn't take his eyes off of her 😌💅

The other two drawings I want to make are obviously some lil Faith/Max and Rhea/Felix illustrations 💖💕 but I haven't fully decided what I want to go with for those! I have a few ideas, but those I really want to discuss and plan out privately 🤭 definitely super excited to work on those!!

And let's be honest.. I kind of want to make even more with P&P AU, but small steps lmao don't want to overwhelm myself. It's always gonna be there to come back to! No promises that I'll dabble in trying to write out some things more eloquently, it's just so much easier for me to express my ideas through visuals! Plus I just really love drawing romance things 😩

There's so many interactions we can explore! But even more exciting! I want to explore different outfits for them because I mean c'mon they are all going to look SO darling!

I think I said so in private but I'm still bouncing back and forth between wanting a strict period setting or if I wanna be loosey goosey and incorporate some space themes to the designs and environments. Both just sound so very fun to me to get to work with.

Okay maybe I should stop now because I think I will just want to keep rambling about P&P AU things 😭

Anywayssss 💅 go show @captastra some love!! So wonderful, delightful, creative, and an absolutely brilliant writer 💖💕

Thank you for letting me incorporate Rhea and Felix into this AU, you already know how excited I am to bring them to life 🥰

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

barking barking, ok so i am rereading a bit of the last chapter and the things i had noted last time so that i remember everything that happened but after that i am loose

having an awful idea to listen to the guitar solo of freebird on repeat as i read this.... i am going to do it there is a rotating rat on the 10 hours version i found, wonderful

SO UH THIS IS MASSIVE SORRY ALSO SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T READ CAPS LOVELY NEWEST CHAPTER SCROLL PAST THIS VERY FAST IT MAY TAKE A WHILE. THE READ MORE BUTTON DOESN'T WORK IN ASKS SO SORRY

(i refuse to edit it this time, it took me like. a while last time and this is even longer, so you also get the incomprehensible pieces and no added notes to explain what i meant <3 (also a lot more '<3' this time. not sure why))

MORE CROWS rrr, they are important i know it

the way panthera is surrounded by cats and crows is interesting... like its an amusing visual but also really kick ass if you frame it in your mind right

yes, i enjoy that juleka is confronting ladybug on how she leads, especially considering that we know for sure they are inexperienced, yes i like this conversation

ooo, this is interesting, dust all kicked up focussing on different senses...very fun, always interesting to see how they can rely on things other than sight

woahhh, the staff lets off green sparks?? its made of copper <3 wait i looked it up and... aluminium makes green fire too? huh? this isn't important <33

awesome visual tho

YEAH BEAT HIS ASS BRO roger cop my beloathed <3

massive baby guy would be scary...

yay! teamwork! carapace and panthera woohoo

gonna be honest free birds outro on loop is really setting the mood for fighting for me

stop making me google things cap... t-rexes were apparently in the "late cretaceous" like ok thanks movie franchise for lying to me ig

Rena- this is amazing- she would record that. wonderful descriptors <33

No <3 i do not need the heartbreak of juleka v akumatised rose again <3 stop it <3 you hurt me <3

oh thank god-

this mantra of "calm yourself" is intriguing, i think its not going to work <3 let her go ape shit please

YOO PRINCE SHINING?? NOO

THIS IS BAD ASS THO

HA AND DOWN HE GOES

she's gonna turn this car around road trip with them when?? it can be a well deserved break <3 i am pitching this idea cap <3 this is what i would like and i would like it very much (i kid, its just amusing to me)

no because. because. alya nino and chloe are still able to have fun in a fight and. and- juleka is over here like a war veteran while marinette is trying to corral them all and- upset now

oh no juleka blacked out?? oh dear...

chlolix crumbs... wonderful... (to be honest with you, searching through the chlolix ship tag years ago was why i found these fics, so i love to see them but i am so attached to the story now <33)

OO? violence in your heart juleka?? maim and kill him you say?? good idea <3

“Miss me?” He grinned maliciously. “No, whore.” Queen Bee scowled at her side. i am actually losing it this is the funniest thing i have seen today-

ooo dark cupid being used to farm akumas... this is reminding me of minecraft and zombie villager farming to get the best trades, i can see the video titles now "this hack will TRIPLE your akuma production in just three EASY steps" <- unsure what this is but it happened in my brain, so there you go <3

i do like the idea of dark cupids powers being used tactically like this, i enjoy how its thought out critically when an akuma has an obviously helpful / game changing power

</3 "ma, i'm so exhausted" you are so cruel

AUGH WHAT NO ough rena got got by kim...

marinette kiss her quick

ough emotional

imma be honest for a hot second i thought juleka got hit by dark cupids arrow which i was fascinated by the idea of, however i think if she is to lose self control it would be more interesting if it was due to circumstances than mind altering magic

??? interesting, "there was- for a flash- a blackness that seemed to writhe like a bubbling mass of ink up her fingers—!" curious...

D: chloe... :(

augh my heart... they all got got protecting each other...

YOUR EVIL THIS IS UPSETTING ME

um hello?? who is speaking to her in bold?? am i dumb for not knowing?? girly is hearing voices

kill him!

gigantitan baby cult...

alternate universe where neither of them remember any of the old akumas names and at one point one of the akumas is so offended by the idea of being forgettable its enough of a distraction to get them

not me trying to think about whether a wish could actually be beneficial in any overall capacity using the rules we were given because hawkmoth is saying it would be...

no but why is the fact that akumatised queen bee is just sad making me so upset-

this is such a fucking big chapter jesus christ-

"nicking her ear and taking out one of her piercings" make her design look like gargamels cat azrael 2k18

(thats the wrong year. uh. shhh thats just the auto fill in my head when i say 2k)

hawky boy has gone off the edge of sanity hasn't 'e...

WOAH ONE ON ONE?? OWHUWO

OH NO ITS GOING BADLY

ohno that guy in bold is back at it again being ominous as fuck ohh i am dumb its plagg. yeah that tracks i am but a silly guy

ooo is it happening? is she doing the thing??

YOO THAT WAS BETTER THAN WHAT I THOUGHT OF THAT WAS BADASS YOO??

OUHTFHEDW

really did a bilbo catching the one ring on his finger and turning invisible right when gollum was boutta catch him tense vibes moment i would describe this better but i must get back to reading this was awesome

OOO SHE DID END UP BEING CALM IT WORKED WOHDANW4FIBBDE

THIS IS BAD COMMENTARY I AM EXCITED OK??

augjh=gtfreinig4fgrninib4frnedw

the way that i'm insane for the idea that someone recorded this fight and everyone ends up seeing panthera being a fucking badass has me insane...

mmmm switching the music to metallica

oh that was the right decision perfect base drop timing for what i was reading

ough awoog wibnefr, insane for the way that she is not referring to herself as human rn

awwybgfwei bgyrfned insane for all of this actually

THIS WAS SO FUCKING COOL JESUS CHRIST OH MY GOD ABHWEBHUUNERI I WISH I COULD SHAKE YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND EXPLAIN ARTICULATELY EVERY DETAIL I LOVED BUT ALAS ALL I CAN DO IS KEYBOARD SMASH AT YOU ACROSS THE INTERNET

love carapce actually <3

“You suck bro. Take an L dude, take an L.” “HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO ME– THIS IS MY MOMENT-” “IT’S A RANDOM FUCKING FRIDAY DUDE IT IS JUST A FRIDAY!” Carapace shouted, so frustrated, pinching his fingers together at the man. “YOU’VE WASTED SO MUCH TIME! GET A JOB!” love this so much actually

YO I FORGOT ABOUT MAYURA AND YOU FUCKING NAMED THE CHAPTER AFTER HER BRO

What a wonderful power, she thought. To protect, instead of hurt. stab in the heart why don't you

“HEY LADYBUG WE FOUND A BROKEN STICK!” “I FOUND IT FIRST ACTUALLY!” “I FOUND A FEATHER!” The two simply sighed love them all so dearly actually <3

awoog wiubfrne, whub?? juleka babe girly darling why are you still injured???? ough it was because of the metallica moment (<3 i have my own name for it, the songs i listened to while that was happening was Battery and Master of puppets btw)

well course it didn't heal from the cure, they are exact opposites so their direct effects would cancel out. like a plus and a minus, idiot

Apparently Rose might’ve fought Adam in a random parking lot that they had ended up in because she thought he might’ve hurt her during the attack so.. HWJB4IFE HA she would do that wouldn't she?

“Meh, it happens.” alix??? this is such a hilariously chill response??

nriew more chlolix crumbs...

Alix defended herself passionately, throwing up her hands as icing laid smeared on her lips. She paused for a moment, as Chloe half-heartedly wiped a bit off before continuing THATS GAY GAYY THEY ARE GAY A3WDWEUI sorry i got a bit excited there.

“Don’t worry, I won’t disappear.” “…Sometimes I–” “Yes?” Juleka pepped up. Rose paused and seemingly waved her thoughts away, smiling. “It’s nothing, don’t keep your big bro waiting!” RRRR REVEAL YOUR IDENTITY PLEASE OIGUHER RRRR

no because you somehow manage to keep it being a slow burn after they got together and i'm insane for that

actually they are the most adorable creatures in the universe i love them

I just didn’t think you’d start hearing them now.. huhwuh?? she is supposed to hear voices?????? weird wack ass side effects

ruhroh looks like thats the consequences of your actions nathalie

RUHROH THE CONSEQUENCES OF JULEKAS ACTIONS?? ough she has made herself an extra high value target

Her boy– no. Their boy shut up your in a queerplatonic relationship with gabriel and you both dated emilie in my head. he is your child to me <3 (i will write that damn 200k slowburn unhappy ending prequel i joked about if you fucking force my hand (ie. continue to make reference teeny tiny things like that (or maybe it will just start planning itself in my head right now curse you my brain)))

WAIT THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH IS SO SAD SHUT UP YOUR A CRUEL BEAST CAP

Emelie and Gabriel’s boy. He was not her’s. He would never be her’s. She was just– the assistant. The distant guardian. This was all for him though, if she could help– she could just. Maybe.. Nathalie shook her head at herself. What mattered was this family. UPSET NOW

TEARING YOU APART RIPPING YOU APART WITH MY TEETH CAP THIS WAS INCREDIBLE AND THIS TOOK ME OVER 2 HOURS

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I 4yrheiwjnow

you may receive asks in your future about me writing that thing i keep joking about. i am spinning it in my mind like this damn rat

i muted it at times but wanted a timer and uh

this is nearly 1800 words wrong what is wrong with me- yknow what no this is your fault for the monster size of this chapter, anyway, time to slap this beast into your inbox <33

THIS IS MADE ME SO SO SO SOSOSOSOSO SOS O HAPPY.,,,,,,,

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH,, IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED,,,

[starcrossed-sky]

(prev anon) interesting. faces are weird to me lol. i can recognize people but i have a hard time perceiving and comparing individual features. whenever my mom pointed at some distant cousin during a family reunion and said to me, "she has her father's eyes, don't you agree?" or pointed at a celebrity while watching tv and said, "he looks like [actor], right?" i was always confused. my brain just stores someone's whole face and tags it with their name so i remember them when i see them, but it's hard to pick out specific features or conjure them up on command.

the thing i'm worst at visualizing and recalling though has to be patterns and colors. in my bedroom there's a spare bedframe with yellow, blue, and grey stripes in a certain pattern, and i see it every day. if i were allowed to look at it for 5 seconds and then asked to close my eyes and recall the pattern, i couldn't. my mind would conjure the image of the bedframe with the colors kind-of there but also kind-of not. in order to recall the pattern, i have to keep a verbal record that it's "yellow, light grey, blue, dark grey, repeat." and despite having that, i'm still unable to use that record to edit the vague image of the bedframe and its undefined color pattern.

i was also really bad at those "flatten/unflatten the box. which patterned side should be on top?" problems you'd get in school aptitude tests for this same reason lol.

when reading books (fiction), i have a hard time keeping up with detailed visual descriptions, since each new detail mentioned just replaces the last one in my mind (if my mind can display it at all due to my limited visual memory bank) and there never ends up being a whole or coherent picture of the scene of any kind. this might be why i never felt particularly drawn to original fiction, but read fanfic just fine (source media provides me with a rich relevant visual bank for enjoying what i read). still, i find it much easier to read and write more psychologically focused stuff that centers internal character pondering, feelings, etc. since it doesn't require any extra strenuous swatch management.

i've heard of aphantasia before, a handful of times. i think the first time was through a youtube video by some artist who has the "full" version of it, describing their experience. i didn't know it was a spectrum then, so i thought "well, visualizing is hard, but my mind isn't a total blackout like theirs." and moved on. but turns out there's more to the it than that 🤔

Yeah, it's definitely a spectrum, and it's a spotty one. Colors are actually the thing I'm best at visualizing (in the most literal, visual sense). I was really good at the box tests (still am tbh) and other rotational tasks, which is why i was so mad at that initial post - "how many windows are on your house" is a rotational task for me.

There is in fact so much more to it! Visual aphantasia gets most of the attention but you can be aphantasiac in any sense, for example, and it's not always even. I have no aphtansia in my tactile senses for example.

[shiroi---kumo]

these are my favorite memes to submit omg. brace yourself this will be long. and probably a bit incoherent. i tried to keep the blocks spaced out i hope it works

1 cloud: he's handled very VERY well as a "muse of power". he's balanced and still flawed but he's trying his best. he really covers the full complexity of being alive. i literally love him so much. he is the truest blorbo by proxy that there ever was and i am rotating him in my brain near constantly

cid: insert lovegrip emoji. he's so great. he's sweet and weird and i love him. he brings me joy and happiness.

usva: i live and breathe for "what do you mean child of white? wtf. he's just my dumbass little brother. look at him. he'll be whining and crying that he can't sleep later. he isn't special. he's just pilv'"

aurinko: goddddd he is SO. god there's so much there where do i start. i love papa sun. i think that if "trying to do the right thing but it accidentally ends up being collossally fucked up by the end" were a genetic trait then kumo got it from him

kuu: if she were real i would ask her to adopt me. she's so sweet. she loves her kids. k bye

taivas: we don't see him much but the amount of "tired" he feels is just. palpable

punaista: idk much about her yet but we love a friend we can chat with over tea!!!

safiirin: takes no bullshit. also she looks so friendshaped but she could so totally kick someone's ass. do not fuck with safiirin. befriend her so you get 😊 instead of 😠

sinfonia: tragic irony. kills me every time. RIP sinfonia

vuorovesi: she was so close to understanding the point! alas. she did not understand The Point.

liekki: green misterican turned medical person? we love to see it. fight the stereotypes ✨

sumu: i fucking loathe him as a person but FUCK is he such a good villain. he's smart and that's a problem.

kultaa + kupari: perfect "evil henchmen" . part of me loathes them and part of me feels bad that they probably got manipulated into this somehow

ok now buckle up because now we get into

✨ them ✨

palo: she's so fucking funny. i adore her. she's not the comic relief but at the same time she's definitely comic relief you know? palo is the queen of part-time work

sydän: she's just vibing. she's soft and friendly and very nice. i would be her friend. we would be besties i think. (until she finds out what i have done to her brother and then she would End Me but ANYWAY)

aamunkoitto: listen. listen to me very carefully when i say this. i am telling you that aamun is one of my favorite characters in the entire history of the universe. and it's only partially because he is also a visually-impaired military kid just like me fr. he has so many layers underneath all the grump and 😠 . love is stored in the hopefulness brought by the dawn. and to think i didn't like him as much as valo initially... god. where was my brain. not in the vicinity i guess.

valo: magical history man who got caught in the trap of "it's just chronic pain, no one needs to be bothered by it, i'm fine" and then lying about his feelings. i want him to get some catharsis someday. he deserves it. holds him in my arms. love is also stored in the valo but the valo needs to be loved too.

revon: if i were gonna ask someone to adopt me i changed my mind. i'd ask revon. sparkle dad is so . he. i love him ok. he's such a good person but he doesn't see it and it KILLS me in like the best way ever. also i always have an affinity for muses who just go "oh. oh i have suddenly acquired four children." he deserves a blanket and some nice insoles. and maybe a trip to like a cat cafe or something. somewhere he can be surrounded by creatures full of no thoughts just love. let him experience inner peace and let him hug all his kids.

Favorite Detail || Accepting

I'm not crying. You're crying.

Theo this is so sweet and quite frankly I needed this. I am so happy you see all of this in them. I am so happy they're alive for you and you see the differences in each and every one of them. I feel seen. They feel seen. I'm so glad the differences in all of them are shining through and I just have never really had OCs before this (not to this depth and extent) so to have someone tell me that one of them is their favorite character ever (Aamun my baby I adore you) is just so special to me.

Like I am over the moon that you love one cloud and that he has a spare room he can rent in your brain (for when he needs to hide from storms and cuddle his radio man)

but the fact you love my OCs just squishes my heart with a hug I cannot describe. I was so ready to have no one give a FUCK about them but me and be okay with that but here you are holding them all so close whenever you can. Sun Papa, Moon Momma, Sparkle Dad and all the rest.

God Theo. I love you and I appreciate this so much.

[rennyji]

Death2America

I cannot shake off feeling my parents, in StupidWays, are still trying 2 paint me as “the bad guy.” I feel somethings now telling them what’s wrong, whileThey nod heads 2moveOn, & in spirit of family counseling, complete apathy, cuz theyFeelJustified.-indicativeOfTroubledKidShow-

-I’m having trouble recalling/keeping track of things, simple as keeping phone on me, 2cover aVariable, b/c of brain hackers/meds. I feel like in aHaze. On an unrelated note, I feel grip of what’s like tentacles enveloping me/at veryLeast thought blocking me.(physical sensation)-

- when brain hackers do something “with me,” or we do something at same time, I cannot process what I’m doing and “visual” looking ocd symptoms occur because I don’t “know” not doubt, what I did the first time-

- I’m feeling someone’s tiredness, petty laughter, and gestures, for lack of a better word-

- I’ll try to keep iWatch on me to cover all variables. Maybe it has a mic that someone can listen into. Then I don’t have to get irritated for not having my phone on me during an inopportune and abrupt conversation where parents instigate.-

- Dad had phone in his master bathroom during 2:15 PM and 2:20 PM on 4/4/24. He claims I’m “accusing” him of things, a burst/eruption type/child whining reaction/, when I ask him where my tea set(for green tea, weirdos!-Japanese stone style).-

- my parents & troubled kids show are out to get me. They want to make me come off as a hoarder when I’m drugged 4 the truth & brain hacking is occurring. I buy things, usually innovative things that are always made in China, like a rotating swivel clamp on keyboard tray.-

- because they’re one of a kind and took a lot of searching to find, I’ll buy more than one if in case they never sell it again. Sometimes I buy things that look like a good idea.-

-Japanese stone green tea set, looked like good aesthetically stimulating way 2 drink tea insteadOfCoffee. A little bell & whistle 2 make tea more attractive. But then something happens like sedation, & I stop caring to pursuing interests or come down to Y bother w/tea?& forget.-

- then on a day like today, where I wasn’t being insomniac, I get “motivation” 2 take out tea set which I suddenly “remember” at a time when I cannot think/remember. I don’t get the methodology with this, or Y troubled kids show behaves secretly. They no they’re wrong&want2hide.-

-the next evolution of troubled kids show mentality is probably square out or clear out the kinks in the family and go “ta da” look what we did. You realize, after all this, it’s time for goodbyes all around?!-

- with the troubled kids show, This is like 18 yrs ago when I was innocent, and they undecided 2 show how good I am, and then plan2 tell me afterwards. The eyes of The God makes me see ur stupidity. When will you repent or acknowledge a method, tech, thinking that doesn’t work?!-

- U fools in orchestrators are so h*ll bent on making me in2 some1 who has 2B mind controlled 2 saying “I love you” or as a frustrated child who doesn’t laugh, u don’t realize I’m preoccupied w/ur stupidity. Now those on phone are asking it’s okay 2 laugh, right? EffectsOfLibel.-

- & then people investigating troublesome show keeps having me trip in2 a delusional state, where they’re talking 2 selves and gettting mad at me while I’m paralyzed. When the tentacles reach, I’m some1 else’s interpretation. Thanks mom/dad for letting USA harvest my organs.-

The thing astonishing me is my dad, after bathroom argument closes door & locks it when I leave him. He asks me if I’m accusing him (like we’re in court) 4 asking where’s my stone tea mugs. I ask my mom and she gets irritated. Not an ounce of remorse, just spite.

- when ur parents have nerve 2 say they feel worse than U, when U find urself in trouble, always know its a blatant lie. Its nastiest thing they can tell me, when I’m experiencing this nonsense w/ stalkers, the school, the growing strange Albany like youth, army, govmt…

-I’m receiving therapy/meds 4 talking about truth & b/c prissy Caucasian’s w/ sticks up a*ses, in coming up w/ protocols over simple action, want 2 do their side projects. While that, I’m hearing demonic songs in head. What kind of delusion is that? Let’s Make the ill sicker?-

- these retards have so much data to come up with random cr*p to spread their horny a*s ideas, their uncleanly ways (literally telling people it’s ok to be a slob getting poop on hands or scratching bulls because of random itch, which shouldn’t happen if u shower)- nasty retards-

- idiots in orchestrators no my respect, 4 not letting a rosary be thrown carelessly, or not letting a Bible hang from a table. 4 that, U want 2 use profanity 2 make it seem like I? Need 2 let loose & live a little? 4 this outright defiance, believe there is a h*ll.-

- my parents don’t know the depth to which this occurring and the troubled kids show and everyone else manipulates two immigrants for their side projects. You think this would happen with an adventurous British blonde or the stereotypical angry black woman? -

- & my parents are taking 2 selves, saying things that hint at or start off w/1 word like: how much more do we have to take?!(Dialect expressions) 1 word my dad slipped inReference, his hiding of face, snowballing of his forceful:then controlled movements, all indicate problems -

- the orchestrators hate God so much, after several opportunities 2 escape, they now want 2spread their lazy/excessively horny/unkempt , disrespectful to God & others type, behavior thru symbol of my face 4their antichrist. RestOf U Just looking4excusesToWatUConsiderLettingLoose.

------

retarded mom&dad start another nonsensical conversation from 7:50 pm or 8 pm, till 8:20 PM on 4/4/24. 1 of their wiseEndIdeas 2makeMeLookCrazy, or 2 doubt a troubled kids show theme, or promote the theme 2 make me come off delusional. Retards I wouldn’t hesitate 2throw inJail.

STUFF THAT WASN'T IN TWEETS. What that random argument was about? Nonsense. It's the kind of thing that happens to get me riled up, to justify someone else's instigation and my response to it. Over a teapot, who said what, what was said, and then however I will manage with the corner kitchen space to put two water heaters. Now what could you people be hearing and seeing. The angry shizo raising his voice while you're watching him in a delusional situation. Sick F*ks all around. But ur so sick, it's not going to sick in. Moving on, as this is no longer worth my time, that's the kind of thing that happens in my situation. Every day, every month, every year, year after year. America's problems are NOT my problems, when you couldn't respect my dignity - forget as a native citizen - as a human being. Never define/restrict my potential. Never charter my life, you sick demented f*ks making a delusional situation more delusional. Now I have to worry about watching tv and the individuals on the other end buying into propaganda/stupid ideas. Was the F* is it to you any of you whether I laugh or smile. Your planes are falling/bridges are collapsing, and this is why. Because of your h*rt feelings cr*p. Pull the d*mn plug on this nonsense. You make sh*t nice by wrapping it around in nice wrapping paper doesn't mean I want your sh*t. Move on with your lives, rip this d*mn thing off like a bandaid. Never bother me again. A bunch of weirdos see me naked in multiple ways, and you think I'm a prostitute to continue doing it after. 

To the orchestrators: Take your illusion mind control cr*p, your fake thinking style, your hallucinations, your augmented reality cr*p, and never come near me again, not in 10 years, a century, a millennium, a millennia after. The amount of your controlling nature bull sh*t when I figure out ur crap in hours, days, or months. 18 years or more. godlike mental faculties, physical augmentations, such powers are not yours, but they are what they are. powers are powers. Integrity, or at this point, DIGNITY is priceless. Get lost. I waited quite a bit of time to say this objectively. What do you call that f*tards?! Cuz Oh I'm the guy who's been mistreated, and then mistreated for show, and now I need all your reassurance or approval. Just writing it sound like a b*tch. Go on with your lives. Try avoiding a day without shooting, then bother with tv camera people nonsense. Not another day. I don't want this to be fixed if it ever required fixing to begin with. I'm happy the way it is. Get lost, wipe my mind, do whatever. Never come near my family or me. Middle age and these retards think I want to hang out with old men, teenagers, and be a brother to a nation that F*ed me over. Is that better orchestrators? Did I...say what I really feel...deep down he hates us-no sh*t! Get lost! While you look at me with fake puzzled looks? What is my expression? Do I need to punch a wall to make a point? This endless "he doesn't mean it" "he's angry" , all to just drag this out one more day. Why the f* do I care if you say hello or look at me. Get lost! To a bunch of ... how do I say this nicely ... citizens of the um America's ideals...I don't want to encourage your random hype interest in me with forced smiles. Take a hike and turn th*s prostitution of a brown man off. 

[halfsizehellboy]

i still can't stop thinking

wilson is better at masking but that just makes unmasking time more insane. they'll be at home and he'll walk by house in the kitchen and bite him and then walk away. i think that'd be how house finds out wilsons autistic too (why'd you bite me?? idk felt like it) and subsequently the oh he loves me moment. wilson does actually say it sometimes but house doesn't and just bites him back. neither of them are particularly words of affection but they can recognize when the other un-says it. house has made fun (a bit) of wilson's ability to switch on and off the mask, and how much it changes how he presents himself. wilson probably read a lot of psychology books to master his body language, tone, and facial expression equation and is very good at acting (to neurotypicals).

house is the opposite: he doesn't do much to alter his presentation at all, usually only for the bit or if he's trying to be an ass. house has very little mask i think. he's blunt all the time, and he covers it up with being a general dick so no one notices.

he's hyperobservant which is SO sensory processing. his brain notices everything whether he wants it to or not, so he just adapted. his sensory issues are kinda hard to pick out in the show, and probably fucked anyways because of his leg and all the vicodin and other substances he ingests regularly. we know he doesn't like cold water, but that's also trauma response. he always wears a t-shirt under his button downs, so he clearly hasn't found safe button downs. he also hates the lab coats with burning passion. i wonder how jeans are safe clothes if he doesn't like the coats but i have chalked it up to drugs, leg, and jeans are relatively easy to soften up.

i think most of wilson's sensory issues are visually and auditorily based but that's just going off of his office and some shots of his apartment. seriously, who makes pizza in near darkness unless they hate their kitchen lights? they have to invest in numerous lamps because house likes to read and his eyesight is kinda shit. house jokes about wilson being a cave creature. wilson jokes about adopting the fellows, especially masters (who they both dx'd within five minutes of each other, and collided on their way to bust into the other's office. they still fight over who got it first).

while wilson is hypoempathetic he's hyperexpressive, as many people have pointed out his silly facial expressions and mannerisms. he's trying to make up for the imbalance of feelings inside of him by over doing it on the outside (also it's RSL's stage acting coming through, which is so interesting to me). house does the opposite (displays no feelings, feels very much) but he's not as good at it, and mostly he just tries to copy wilson. people dont notice because house is usually stimming and wilson is not stimming visibly. wilsons a big fan of rotating things in his mind and internal echolalia.

i will think of more later probably for house but anyways. holds them in my mouth and shakes my head vigorously

i love when autistics date each other and have nearly opposite sensory/support needs because it's hilarious. House does not recognize emotions well and struggles with connection, but obviously feels deeply and easily despite adamantly denying it. Wilson is, get this, hypoempathetic like house but sensory-seeks the empathetic feelings; which is why he's good at breaking news. he enjoys playing emotion!! he likes acting!! and i think acts of service and gift-giving is just love language, and he just doesn't differentiate platonic and romantic attraction easily (multiple ex-wives yet devoted to house, and love languages are extended to patients and especially ones he's friends with).

wilson likes old movies, and many of the things house does, but unlike house he's not shown to listen to loud music constantly; he doesn't like or need the auditory stimulation. he doesn't stim as much as house, but that could be also that he doesn't stim the way house does. he doesn't need that much external processing, while house plays with toys and rubber bands and his cane. i think wilson just moves a lot, wiggling his fingers or the like. personally i think he'd bite things a lot but he's spent a long time coasting through as normal and he has a reputation to uphold. House is never safe, though. something something sensory needs and distraction pain are the perfect excuse.

wilson needs just his long self-care routine to not change, and a couple other constants like house and his office. i think he likes to be efficient. house thrives on the consistency of a created chaos, mainly i think he's au-dhd and thats why, he cant have things the exact same too long without going bonkers. his office and his apartment are controlled spaces that stay the same, and other things can be wild for stimulation. They have enrichment time in their enclosure(s) with their bets and manipulation games. wilsons office is a better darkroom for quiet time. i cant stop thinking about this

[purble-turble]

I was reareading the Battle Nexus stuff and i cant help but wonder what our poor time travelling sadboi should have via visual distinctions. Since atm he doesnt have much beyond 'visible trauma' there should probably be something to ake his distinctive universe more....distinctive. like... sleeves rolled up and jacket unbuttoned perhaps? Maybe does away with it entirely? Is this timeline where we get the fabled ShortHair!Red? Inquiring minds want to know from a design persepective, what would you go with?

Oh my goddddd a short haired Time Travel Red Son!! This is galaxy brain, Anon, I can’t believe I never thought of this!!!! You’re so right, time travel Red should definitely have some differentiation from all the others besides that dead look in his eye lol.. also when he does finally return to his own time, if he’s got some visual indicators that he went through Some Shit™ that’s even more dramatic for his being reunited with his own MK which I love!

How about this- Red Son has joined forces with Prisoner MK and his team in a tentative alliance in order to take down Demon King Red, partly because King Red has taken the time traveling artifact that can get him back to is own friends and also these versions of his friends are suffering and he feels responsible for that... so he’s gotta stay and help them take his future self down. That’s all already established, and also the fact that Prisoner MK, while willing to work with him a bit because he’s been helpful against King Red, is still really uneasy around him and is never left alone with him. What probably happens to cause Red’s haircut is one morning, after waking up and getting ready for the day, y’know, showering, brushing his teeth, going over the latest tech blueprints he’s working on to sabotage his evil doppelgänger.. he goes to put his hair up in his usual ponytail but his hair tie snaps. Anyone who’s had long hair knows this shit.. it’s annoying as hell and it hurts your fingers when it snaps back on em. So now he’s in a bad mood and it puts a scowl on his face. And Red happens to be staying over at Tang and Pigsy’s house that day (he’s been on a rotation of who he stays with, much like MK is except opposite) and neither of those guys has a spare for him.

Well, there’s nothing to be done about it, so Red Son just makes a mental note to ask Mei for a spare when he sees her later and goes on about his day. He walks into the noodle shop that morning with Pigsy.. Pigsy goes back into the kitchen like he always does and Tang hasn’t quite arrived yet. So when MK comes barreling into the shop apologizing for being late, like he usually does, it’s only Red Son standing there, his hair loose and fluffy, and when MK locks eyes with him he just fucking screams and scrambles back out through the door. Red just stands there shocked for a moment as Pigsy comes back out through the kitchen and runs after him.

Red Son realizes from his experience in this time that he’ll be more of a hinderance than anything when MK gets like this, so he hides away in the kitchen and lets Pigsy handle this. After MK is brought back in and given some water as he calms down from a panic attack, he overhears what the problem was- Red Son with his hair down looks exactly like King Red who also wears his hair loose and MK thought that the king was alone, waiting to ambush him in the noodle shop. ...Red always worries about setting him off by getting too close or saying something that reminds him too much of the other Red, but this time all he did was have his hair down.. and it makes him absolutely sick that he’s hurting him just by the way he looks. Of course, since he’s been working very hard to modify his behavior in this new time, he figures this is just one other thing he’s going to have to modify... he grabs one of Pigsy’s knives out of its holder and he does the thing.

....Pigsy comes back into the kitchen and freaks out on him at all the hair strewn across the floor. It does manage a small smile out of MK when he sees what he’s done, though, so Red Son decides Pigsy’s wrath was worth it.

[peralta-guaranteed]

any hc’s of jake and amy attempting a couples yoga routine?

- Amy's been doing yoga for quite a while now, she started it simply for stretching her muscles after working out / actual work constantly hurting her, and then sorta became obsessed with it because... she's just that kind of person 😅

- so she's pretty dang good at it by now and Jake obviously loves how flexible she is 🤫 but every time she tries to convince him to maybe just do a training video with her he's all... is it exercise? actual exercise? then no thanks

(- he went to a local yoga 'beach event' thing in Florida mostly to get his mind off of things and because weirdly enough Larry's file said he liked yoga, but all it did was make him think of Amy and hurt his legs like hell the next day so no thanks)

- he watches and listens to Amy's youtube videos whenever she decides to do a led course instead of going through her own rotations. She jokes that he's just there to leer at her with her butt in the air and maybe that's 50% of the reason why he likes to sit on the bed when she works out in front of the dresser... but whatever else the reason he's a visual learner and so a lot of the poses are actually burned into his brain 😂 even with the right names for it

- when Amy's favourite yoga youtube person uploads a special video on couple's yoga with her (very hot) husband Amy begs him to at least give it a try, because she'd really love to do those poses, you don't even have to do much the man is usually just the grounding support, please Jake, let's say I'll owe you a favour (winkwinkwink)

- he gives in quick, because Amy puppy eyes, and they manage the beginner poses really well (Amy's good at it anyway, and Jake really doesn't have to do much)

- at one point they're doing a pose that kinda has Amy lying backwards on his upright legs, kinda like:

and Jake giggles, which makes Amy almost fall off. "Don't laugh!" "I was just thinking this is the perfect setup for a spiderman kiss if you drop any lower" "Be serious please. Also I'm supposed to hold my balance, not-" - Now try to lean down towards your partner as much as possible, with their support - the lady in the video says and Jake laughs some more (but doesn't drop her)

- and maybe Jake needs to bend his knees a little and maybe it's a point of personal pride for Amy to really lean down as much as she can, but he does get his spiderman kiss ;)

- unfortunately the next pose is one where Jake has to hold Amy in places he knows she's ticklish, and of course he can't resist, so she ends up giggling too much and dropping straight on him and punching the air out of him so that's pretty much it for that video

- she's still thankful he gave it a try and definitely gives him a good massage when he wakes up with extremely sore muscles the next morning because being support is HARD Amy why did you LIE TO ME

[ceroswrites]

H-hhhhhh hey bby um so this isn't necessarily alphabet stuff but can I get some headcanons for Kiri and Dabi with an s/o who has a really hard time sleeping?? (I need to take a nap but I cannot-)

Scenarios || “s/o having a hard time sleeping”

author’s notes: i got you babey have a good nap 💕

Dabi

Your bedroom is dyed with a nautical blue atmosphere, lights steadily leaking in from the slanted blinds, eagerly creeping forward like the bud of a plant sprouting from the sidewalk towards the sunlight. Your aching tired eyes dart around the room as if it can find your missing rest in the shadows. You fight the urge to grab for your phone again, watching it’s blinking light beckon you to what you know must be some worthy notifications. The clock reads 2:00 am in bold red letters and the time is inching ever so slowly towards the next minute.

Then, the minute after that.

And then, the minute after that.

It has been a very, very long night. You fight the urge to reach for your phone again, fingers twitching ever so lightly.

You’ve been so restless all day, if anything, you thought you’d be ready to head off into the dreamland-especially with Dabi’s comforting presence beside you. He’s sleeping on his back, head thrown back into a fluffy pillow and mussed ebony locks even more disheavled from his slumber. He would never say admit it forthright but, he always slept better with you at his side. You’re soft and warm in a way that he hasn’t known for an incredibly long time. The scarred arm lounging across your waist pulls you in closer, to which you happily comply. You try to bury yourself deeper into his chest with as minimal movement as possible so you do not wake him.

Unfortunately for you, Dabi is a light sleeper.

The hand idling on your hip jerks momentarily, his calloused fingertips grazing along a revealed patch of skin on your hip. You fail to fight the following shudder that comes from his accidental contact, even just the slightest brush from him had you bursting with goosebumps. If he had noticed, he doesn’t make a comment on it-but, then again, Dabi is well aware of the affect he has on your body.

You shift your head up to catch a glimpse of his pierced face. Perhaps he’s not entirely awake...?

A single, weary eye cracks open to peer at you, a sliver of turquoise shining brightly regardless of the darkness surrounding. No, he’s very much awake.

He stares at you for a moment, as if to take in his surroundings and recall where he is-you don’t miss the way his eyes dart towards the same clock that you've been watching all evening. Eventually, he tiredly drawls out in a husky tone of voice, “You’re moving too much.”

He was certainly always to the point, even if it was far too blunt, but you were used to deciphering the actual meaning behind his deadpan words.

Shuffling your legs underneath the blanket, you fight the urge to flinch from the cold bite of the metal piercings lodged in his skin.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you trail a finger along imaginary routes on his open chest, “I’m trying to fall asleep but...”

“Try harder.”

Dabi releases his lax hold from your hip and torpidily pulls himself away from your warm body, rolling over to lay on his side and revealing his marred back at you.

You huff incredulously at his dark silhouette before quickly turning yourself away from him, sudden disruptive movements be damned. Two could play that at that game. You don’t need him to get to sleep! ...even if he does run warm enough to be a human-sized electric blanket that puts regular non-human blankets to shame.

With an aggressive tug, you struggle to wrap the blanket around yourself and wriggle like an excited worm into the sheets of the bed in search of a semblance of warmth. Was your room always so cold...?

You look at the clock once again. Your eyes find an interesting path that goes along the walls, then to the furniture, then to the illuminated window. You listen to the hum of a lonely car riding past and the faint ba-dum of the heart in your chest hard at work.

Was your room always this...empty? Or was that the overwhelming gloom that could only be born in the dead of the night? Were the shadows lurking in the crevices of the walls growing larger or was your tired, over-imaginative mind only deceiving you? You shuffle your legs anxiously and gave the clock one more glance, watching as the red brick-shaped numbers continue to taunt you.

“You’re still moving. Why? What could possibly be bothering you?” Dabi dryly deadpanned from his side of the bed, his voice breaking the silence and pulling you out of your trance.

“...It’s kind of scary in here at night.”

“I can assure you I’m scarier than anything out there.”

“...The clock is broken.”

“It’s only been five minutes. Your eyes are the only broken thing around here.”

You pause momentarily before whispering, “...I’m cold.”

The words are all eagerly devoured by the nighttime and then, the room returns to it’s dark, vacant and hungry state as it waits on baited breath for what will happen next.

You’re caught off guard when then bed abruptly dips and sways, letting out quiet creaks in protest from the janky movement spawning from the other side of it.

Dabi slides in next to you, navigating the best way to intertwine his legs with yours-and it feels like placing that long awaited final piece of an 1,000 jigsaw puzzle, enjoying that rush of completion when it finally falls into place. He clicks his tongue as you press your back into him and listlessly mumbles, “You’re so spoiled, you insufferable brat.”

“You’re cold, huh?” He taunts with his face in the crook of your neck, you shiver from the chill of his mouth piercings gliding along sensitive skin as he rasps. It doesn't help much that his monotone voice echoes throughout your body or that his eyelashes flutter behind your ear.

A leathery hand travels down the contours of your body, leaving not a single inch of skin untouched or a hairbump unraised. You let out a hushed whine to which he replies with a drawn-out shuuush and a mocking, “I’m helping you get warm.”

It comes to rest at your lower stomach and you can feel his own clamorous heartbeat through the palm, his thumb slowly circling on your skin with a mind of it's own. His other hand roams its way to the front of you and makes its home right atop your ribcage.

You’re so distracted that you don’t notice it at first-you’re far more occupied with him at the moment-a slow creeping warmth growing underneath your skin and it instantaneously reminds you of kisses from the sun so graciously dappled across your face when you bask in it’s light.

A finger dances between the area of your breastbone with a muted turquoise glow, leaving no skin untouched nor cold. The fire from Dabi’s hands is small and benign, the light barely leaking from under the blankets and yet...the darkness in the bedroom seems to flee back into itself and the walls don’t feel so compact anymore.

“Finally. Now, go to sleep,” Dabi rasps in your ear, but his voice is beginning to sound to far away to be sure...

You let out a soft, weary sigh as your eyelids finally begin to feel heavy, the familiar sirensong that is sleep reaching you loud and clear once more as the clock reaches 2:10 am.

Eijirou Kirishima

It was a wonder that you ever managed to even sleep with him in the same bed.

You knew that Eijirou was an exceptionally wild sleeper, you’ve felt him nudge and bump into you more than enough times from your own slumber. But, now that you were sitting there wide awake...you were starting to get a good idea for just how much movement he was capable of in a single night.

And the answer? Way too much.

So far, he had rolled himself over and over around six times, then the leg streching whenever his postion was getting too stale-can’t forget how he also kept locating your leg with scary accuracy and never failing to ram into it with his knee-was about to reach the double digits pretty soon, and his arm couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to rest on the pillow or on you and was currently giving your chest its second trial run. It’s not like you were keeping count or anything.

Sleeping with Eijirou was like sharing a bed with a big dog that didn’t seem to realize it was a little puppy anymore and did, infact, take up a very large amount of space. Your golden retriever of a boyfriend was spread eagle and you were bundled up, trying to occupy as little room as possible while you pressured your brain to start resting.

You stare up at the ceiling despite how much your worn out eyes protest. It was hard to see anything in the darkened room, but it didn’t stop you from trying to find something to look at. It wasn’t as if you were heading to sleep anytime soon. You let your mind wander to just about anything it wanted to-visualing interesting patterns on the walls, what sounded good for breakfast tomorrow, how work could possibly be-however, sleep continued to elude you in the far corner of your mind.

As your mind continued to wonder further and further away, you felt the faint edge of sleep right within the grasp of your fingers and if you reached just a little farther...maybe, just maybe, you could fall asleep. Your eyes finally closed. Then, Eijirou’s knee found a new resting spot right in the small of your back.

“Oh my god!” You hiss quietly, guiding his knee out of your space, “Eiji, you can’t be serious!”

And of course, all the movement happening in the world right now-even the slight rotation of the whole planet Earth-wasn’t nearly enough to wake him, but one single prod from you was more than enough to bring him to the waking world.

He lets out a loud and drowsy yawn, his jagged teeth flashing as he rolls onto his back. He cracks open blurry carmine eyes and squints at your dark silhouette, trying to adjust his vision to the darkness.

“Mmm...babe? What’s up?” He groggily stumbles over his words, like a drunk fresh out of a bar after the last call. You exhale and spin over to face him, exhaustion clear on your face.

“I can’t sleep,” you grumble under your breath, wondering if you should tell Eijirou he’s the reason you’re having trouble.

Kirishima pauses for a moment as he processes your words at a speed equal to an early age internet web browser. You can hear the gears practically turning in his head. To your surprise, the redhead jumps up out of the blankets with a determined grin on his face.

“Don’t worry, babe! I’ve got the perfect cure,” He announces at a loud and unacceptable volume for 5:45 in the morning, “I’ll be right back! Don’t go anywhere!”

“Where would I literally go?” Your words don’t even reach his ears as he’s already racing out of the room to do goodness knows what.

You take this opportunity to strech out across the whole bed and your aching limbs cheer happily as the blood rushes throughout them once more. You wiggle yourself deeper into the warm sheets Eijirou left behind and nuzzle your face in the cushy pillow closest to you, his scent-heavy petrichor-invades your senses and let out a happy sigh.

You begin to feel it again, that fuzzy familiar hold of sleep beginning to descend over you like a soft, pink summer cloud. However, the cloud evaporates as Kirishima returns to the room as loudly as he exited before.

“Alright! Here, try this!” He eagerly offers as he carefully eases himself onto the bed, a large mug cusped in his hands like a precious cargo. He gestures for you to sit up so he could hand it to you and you let out a long groan as you did so, upset to leave the comfortable spot behind.

You peek over the rim of the cup, watching the faint wafts of steam and ask, “What is it...?”

“Hot cocoa!” He visibly preens for a moment before his face drops, “Wait, did you want the marshmallows? Did I put too many?”

“It’s fine, Eiji,” You assure him as you bring the rim to your lips to drink despite his panicked warnings that it was still hot. It burned your tongue, naturally, but the pain was unnoticeabe underneath the sweetened, velvety taste of rich chocolate. You lick your lips to clean up a stray smear of whipped cream and let out a relaxed sigh.

“Someone looks like they really liked it~,” Kirishima hums as you stare dazedly into the distance, “I’m glad, yeah? It’s what my mom would make for me when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Remind me to thank her next time we go over for dinner, please and thank you,” you mumble into your cup as you finish it off and hand it back to him.

You wearily sink back into the covers and close your eyes, ready to find that sleepy feeling once more and continue what you started. The bed bounces as Eijirou leaves to take the dirty dish away and you relish the open space for your legs once more.

The soft, pink cloud returns without struggle with even more clouds in tow this time, surrounding you with warmth as you begin to further drift away into the sweet release of unconsciousness. Wait...were you actually getting warmer?

You peek open a single eye to find Eijirou tucking a toasty blanket around your frame. It was unexpectedly warm with the faint aroma of lavender...almost like...

“Did you...put this in the dryer?” You sleepily asked, voice muffled from the mass of comfort encompassing you.

He laughs-god, you loved his laugh, your heartbeat picks up in your chest at the sound of it-as he slides into the bed with you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his own heated body. You could feel vibrations as he speaks, “Just put it in for a little bit. I heard this helps too.”

“It does,” you manage to whisper as your thoughts start to blank and your body grows heavy in his solace, “I love you, Eijirou.”

“I love you, too.”

[tres-leeches]

Thoughts on Scarlet Nexus

Game's pretty good, but to have some semblance of structure I guess I'll start with what I don't like. A minor gripe I have is that the game clearly isn't really optimized for next gen systems and it debuted at Microsofts series x stream. It looks nice and runs well, but it takes like 5 seconds to save and pop in is everywhere in the city areas. Textures can get pretty gnarly up close too. There are also weird invisible walls in some spots where you could easily jump over a fence or whatever and the game will make you go through the opening.

I'm just gonna go ahead and separate combat. The combat I enjoy for the most part, but it isn't quite there in some ways. The dodge could use some work and some enemy hit boxes aren't clear. I get they don't want the main character to be so powerful that he doesn't have to use his allies, but even with all the combo upgrades it still doesn't really have enough variety. The deepest it goes is interrupting your light combo with a heavy so that you can do another of the same light combo. I really like what they did with the party where you can access damn near everyone's powers all the time so you don't have to constantly swap out party members. I think it makes the combat way more interesting. Controlling 8 different powers is surprisingly intuitive despite it not looking that way when you see the controls. I do like the psychokinesis ability despite it feeling a tad on the weaker side even with some of the more powerful moves. The brain field thing was fine but I found it so uncontrollable that it'd be more liable to get me killed than help me especially on the human bosses. On that note the human bosses aren't super great in my opinion. Instead of them just tanking a million hits like the monsters they dodge your attacks. Which is fine on paper, but I found in most of those fights that it boiled down to me waiting for an opening, getting 2 or 3 hits in, then running around waiting for that again. I guess on a note tangential to combat the enemy variety in the game isn't bad, but they don't rotate them much. There are fights near the end of the game where it will spawn like 4 waves of nearly identical enemies when they have others they could choose from. And some of the enemies can and will blast you for most of your health from off screen and sometimes they're the only enemies in the room so you can't just focus it down. The enemies also have really bad names. Overall though combat is fun, which is good, cause the other half of the game is less good.

The story in this game is presented a in very nice looking clean visual novel style. It's mostly fancy borders and sliding portraits that hide the fact you're just staring at still images, but it works. And the proper cutscenes look very good and are animated super well. The characters are pretty likeable for the most part and none of them are throwaway losers. The only character I didn't like was generic higher than mighty tsundere dude who just acts like a dick most of the time with minimal display of his other traits. Unfortunately the story these characters are in is not good enough for it taking up probably half of the game time. It starts pretty interesting with government conspiracies and revolutions, but pretty quickly becomes a fairly generic anime save the world escalation. Not to say the world is generic cause it's pretty cool with how it's presented and some of the visuals. There are several cases where something will happen or someone will gain an ability from out of nowhere and if they explain it at all it's just handwaving it away. There's also this strange disconnect where for a large portion of the game you are enemies with half of the cast, yet you can still hang out with them and the game will acknowledge that it's weird but your character will just immediately act like everything is fine. I wouldn't mind the story being just fine if it didn't frequently sit you down for long periods of time and shove it in your face. It feels like they were going for the method of just having cool shit happen and relying on the coolness to distract from it making no sense except the things that are happening aren't cool enough.

Side tidbit the side quests seem mostly useless. Granted I didn't do many of them but the reason I didn't was cause all the early game ones were just go get this item kill this enemy in this way type stuff. Even though I basically skipped all of them I had the best weapons and materials enough for basically whatever I wanted.

Despite all my bitching I still liked the game and I hope they make another one so they can iron out some of these issues and make it an even better game.

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part II: Breathe - Chapter 5:  Thoughts Expand in Blooms

Also available on AO3! Summary: The consequences of Ratchet and Rodimus' chase become known. Chapter Word Count: 2644

---

“Try again.”

“Yes, sir. Rodimus, come in Rodimus. This is Blaster, coming to you live from the Lost Light command deck. Do you read me? Status and further instruction requested. Over.”

Years of handling the Wreckers’ fluctuating schedules meant it was no effort for Ultra Magnus to resist rubbing his optics as he watched the progress of their three recovery speeders. Siren, Crossblades, and Waverider had launched with minimal deviations from standard procedure (Crossblades would receive a write-up for nonessential helical rotation) and tracked Arcee’s shuttle up to acceptable pursuit range. That was where the chase had stalled, as Rodimus had provided no further instructions and protocol required command from a captain before they could proceed. Either captain.

Protocol fell apart when one refused to leave his hab and the other had stopped answering his comms. Magnus started mentally writing up a proposal for temporary transfer of pursuit command responsibilities while they waited.

The control panel refreshed as the latest information poured in. The speeders were entering upper atmosphere, rotating in pyramid formation in the shuttle’s trail. Acceleration had decreased to the minimum required to maintain orbit and altitude held steady as they sailed through Scarvix’s exosphere.

“Ultra Magnus, I have a visual on Rodimus’ ship,” Bluestreak reported.

“Pull it up.”

The datafeeds compressed to the right of the screen, replaced with the compound live feed from the speeders, displaying the shuttle’s stern, the glow of its thrusters closer to a lightbulb than anything spaceworthy. The engines were keeping it aloft, but there was an unnatural stillness about it, like debris floating through space.

“Again.”

Blaster adjusted settings on the ship’s communications hub and leaned into the mic.

“Rodimus, come in Rodimus. This—”

There was a crackle and buzz as the ship’s receiver finally picked up a signal.

“This is Rodi—ack, Ratchet, this is Ratchet. We read you.”

Blaster’s shoulders relaxed as he transferred primary input to the third in command’s station, but Magnus did not match his relief. Underneath the fritz of the shuttle’s poorly maintained equipment, Ratchet’s voice was shaking.

“Ratchet, this is Ultra Magnus. Report.”

“Report. Report… um, Arcee’s gone. We lost her. Satellite. Crash. Is Cyclonus there?”

“No. What is your—”

“Get him,” Ratchet interrupted.

“Where is Rodimus?” Magnus asked. Ratchet was supposed to be one of the good ones, recognizing his place within the chain of commands. Making demands was out of character for him.

“Here! I’m here,” Rodimus’ voice crackled down the line. “Present. Available. Get Cyclonus.”

Magnus sent the ping and tagged it urgent. Cyclonus had never been known for tardiness, but that put it on the record.

“What is your status?” he asked as he acknowledged Cyclonus’ response.

“Good! Weird? Ratchet is banged up, which is bad. He suffered impact shock in his lower spinal strut, chance there’s a disk… how do I…”

Magnus’ orbital ridge twitched, a coding bug when expression protocols tried to assign a profile to stress of unknown origin. He wiped the cache, regaining his neutral set, and sent a command to have the speeders approach the shuttle. Visual on the command deck would be helpful, but flight integrity was his main concern. If neither Rodimus nor Ratchet was in the right mind to pilot, they would need to engage in emergency grounding maneuvers.

“Ratchet, are you still there? Rodimus sounds incoherent; what is his status?”

“He’s fine.” His voice was briefly drowned out by shuffling and crashing on the other end. “—cessor’s functioning normally. It’s loud, but it’s working.”

“He’s overheating?” Magnus asked.

“Not his fans, his thoughts.”

“Is his comm link malfunctioning?”

“He’s bright like the goddamn sun. I can barely get two words in. Will you shut that off? ”

“Ratchet?” Speeders were closing in.

“Not you.”

“Stop yelling at me!” Rodimus snapped, volume raising and lowering like he was pacing around the microphone. “I heard you the first time.”

“I don’t see how. I can barely hear myself.”

“Aw, poor Rodimus, doesn’t get to hear his own voice.”

“ You’re Rodimus, that’s my line.”

“Rodimus, Ratchet, Waverider is en route to board,” Ultra Magnus interjected. “If you are able, please lower the hatch for arrival, otherwise he will engage emergency stove—”

“No, don’t!”

It wasn’t just that they shouted at the same time, but that Rodimus and Ratchet’s voices matched in pitch, tone, and cadence which caused Magnus, for the third time in his life, to forget what he had been saying.

“Is Cyclonus there?” Rodimus asked.

“There’s something on board,” Ratchet said. “Don’t know what it is, but you can’t let anyone else get near it.”

“It did a weird thing. I’m Rodimus, but also I’m Ratchet? And both?”

“Those sound like the same things, Rodimus,” Magnus said, half distracted as he instructed Waverider to return to position.

“They’re not,” Ratchet said.

“Sir?” Cyclonus’ voice came as a blessing. Magnus gestured him forward.

“Cyclonus just arrived,” he announced. “Cyclonus, Rodimus and Ratchet uncovered something on Arcee’s shuttle. It’s…” He blanked.

“I can feel Ratchet’s processor,” Rodimus said, rushing like it would make any of this comprehensible. “He’s thinking and it’s all really fast and hard, but it’s not rough like you would expect? Like, the feeling of grit in your gears, I thought it would be like that, but it’s more like there’s just a lot of gears and it takes a lot of power to turn them all, and it’s too hard to decide whether to focus on just one or the entire thing. And he keeps thinking about me and my thoughts and how they’re not like that, and I’m thinking about him, and then I get stuck because all the thoughts start to sound the same and I don’t know which ones came from me or which are Ratchet or even which me is me. It’s all a big thought reservoir, a—a thought battle, an entire brain war and I don’t know which side I’m on!”

Cyclonus’ gaze was steady at the screen. Once it was clear that Rodimus was done, he leaned over the microphone.

“Can you send an image of the object?” he asked.

“Sure,” Ratchet said.

Blaster raised his hand.

“Image received.”

Ultra Magnus nodded and the feed of the shuttle was replaced with a still capture, a calamity of wires and light that took his visual center a full millisecond to parse.

“It’s the Enigma of Combination,” Cyclonus said.

“What’s that?” He could differentiate the orbital plating of the object itself and the red dwarf dew drop at its center, but the light it cast on its surroundings made his spark flicker with a disturbing fuzz.

“A plague,” Cyclonus said. “Considered a long-lost relic even in my own time. I would doubt this was the legitimate article, if Rodimus hadn’t so perfectly summarized its less infamous effects.”

“It can do more?” Magnus asked. What it had already done— whatever it had done, he still was not clear on the details—seemed itself too much for a bot to handle. Or two.

Cyclonus hesitated.

“Well, you see…”

“No. No, no, so much no, you’re kidding. Ratchet, tell me they’re kidding!”

“I don’t bloody well know!” he snapped back. He had sunk back into the pilot’s chair while Rodimus paced the bridge. His spark was spinning like a centrifuge, its engine overfed by the deluge of panicked thoughts tumbling through his mind. It was all Cyclonus and shuttle and Arcee and combination and Drift, new threads knocking each other out of the way so nothing could reach a conclusion, just endless half-thoughts pinged repeatedly. Worst was when Rodimus tripped over the junk now scattered across the bridge as it brought everything to a shuddering halt, like a whole expressway’s worth of engines seized up simultaneously.

He pressed his hands to his face and tried to focus on keeping his vents open, ignoring the storm of queries of Is Ratchet overheating? and Drift is going to kill me.

“I can’t be in a combiner with Ratchet!”

He hates me he hates me he hates me rattled around their processors like screws in a box.

“The Enigma has determined otherwise,” Cyclonus said.

So now the damn thing was having its own thoughts?

“It’s thinking ?” Rodimus asked, earning an additional glare from Ratchet.

“No one knows,” Cyclonus said. “It’s ancient technology, built on the same principles that govern sparks.” Principles that even modern science knew so little about. Ratchet was going to say it but froze when he felt Rodimus grab for it, tossing at it a hundred questions he had no answers to: Is that thing a person and Where do sparks come from and Would this stop if we broke it followed by another run of apologies.

“The Enigma has you in a holding pattern,” Cyclonus went on. “There aren’t enough of you to form the combiner, so it’s keeping your sparks connected until it can interface with at least one more Cybertronian.”

Ratchet saw the image that formed in Rodimus’ mind and his glower deepened.

“I don’t have the knowledge or the skills to disconnect something like that,” he said. “Sparks are complicated, Rodimus, and there’s still so much we don’t know about them. I didn’t even think it was possible to maintain a connection of this magnitude without direct contact.” Rodimus’ next idea was even worse. “Have you met your crew? The moment you put it in a box and tell no one to look, Brainstorm, Skids, and Whirl are all going to make breaking into it their personal quest.”

“Isolating the Enigma will not contain its effects,” Cyclonus added. “Because the holding pattern is an open channel, you have become conduits for the Enigma’s energies. If even one of you encounters another compatible component, it will complete the process, regardless of its distance from you.”

Rodimus stilled, then sunk to the floor, his thoughts miserably coalescing into a single thread.

“So, either we drag someone else into this mess, or we’re stuck in this shuttle, trying to think over each other forever?” Forever was steeped in darker emotions that caught Ratchet off-guard, which Rodimus immediately covered up with nonsense branches of observations about the junk on the floor. A negativity storm, Drift would have called it.

From behind, he heard Rodimus chuckle, though his thoughts betrayed little amusement.

“If I may,” Cyclonus said, interrupting no one. “Ratchet, I do respect you as a physician, but modern medicine is not the only source of knowledge concerning the Cybertronian body. Even modern theology, shallow thought it may be, offers insights to the nature of sparks that your specialty lacks.”

“No.” Ratchet scowled and shook his head, though more so at the way he felt Rodimus stirring that observation than the idea itself. “None of the woo-woo nonsense. Drift’s mindfulness agility course was bad enough.”

Unfortunately, his words made Rodimus’s thoughts expand in blooms, accompanied by shuffling as he stood to lean over the pilot’s chair.

“Drift was always trying to get me into his meditation thing,” he said. “He—he talked about the Rossum connection, how the mind impacts the spark and vice-versa. It was mostly, you know, power poses and cool sword moves, but there was more advanced stuff we didn’t get around to.”

“It could be a lead,” Cyclonus said, his grave voice somehow failing to make a dent in Rodimus’ growing enthusiasm. “I know very little about Spectralism, but if it involves manipulation of spark energies, there is a chance it could be used to counteract the effects of the Enigma.”

“Yeah, remember how Drift can see auras?” Rodimus said. “Maybe he can see where we’re tangled and just undo the knot.”

“There is no scientific backing to that kind of pandering—”

But we don’t have any other ideas.

Rodimus drew him up short, his own dearth of creativity reflected back to him as though in a mirror. Loathe though he was to admit it, Rodimus was right: they had nothing else. No leads, no one to fall back on. Cybertron’s history, the ancient mythologies that might have shed light on this technology, was lost to war and time, and all that was left was the third, fourth-hand accounts of people who claimed to know what was lost.

There was a chance Drift would have nothing to offer them, but even the possibility of guidance was an improvement over the helplessness Ratchet felt when he tried to imagine them fixing this on their own.

He received an image burst: Drift, wild and beautifully unhinged, leaping for the chance to care for Ratchet with literally open arms. Rodimus shut it down, distracting himself by counting rivets in the bridge ceiling, but vibrating embarrassment persisted between them.

“Would it be appropriate to call Drift for this?” Ultra Magnus asked, pulling the further from their internal squirming. “The truth about his role in the Overlord plan came out months ago, and since we’ve made no effort to contact him. To approach him now so he can solve this seems exploitative.”

Ratchet caught only the yellow of Rodimus’ hand before the captain vaulted over the back of the pilots’ chair, landing with a solid bang.

“I’ll take the blame,” he said.

“For what?” Ratchet asked, though he could already see it.

“For not fixing this sooner,” Rodimus said. He shrugged, a movement so automatic Ratchet did not pick up who it had been directed to. “I’m the captain. It was my responsibility and I failed. That shouldn’t doom Ratchet to having to live with my mistakes.”

He avoided Ratchet’s optics as he spoke, but Ratchet still caught his expression, the shiver of his spoiler as he spoke. It struck him that the reason Rodimus was so hard to read from an external perspective was because a single look meant so many things: frustration, guilt, grief, and hope piling on top of each other too quickly to discern where any one emotion rooted. His thoughts were going in so many directions all the time, of course it would be a challenge for everyone else to keep up.

“How do you intend to locate Drift?” Ultra Magnus asked, ever pragmatic.

“I have a tracker,” Ratchet said.

“I memorized the specifications for his shuttle,” Rodimus added, his processor spitting out the codes in full.

“And will that ship be adequate? Do you need additional supplies?”

Ratchet turned in the seat, looking around the scattered contents of the bridge, to say nothing of what their collision might have done to the storage down below. Despite the mess, he saw what looked like intact crates of potable energon, and the shuttle’s own systems were not in imminent danger of running dry.

“We’re stocked,” he said, and catching Rodimus’ primary concern, went on, “Unless Cyclonus know how far the Enigma’s effect extends, it’s going to be too risky to dock back in the Lost Light. We’ll make due with what’s here.”

“I’ll have Rewind compile you a list of known energon distributors with minority Cybertronian populations. That will be your best opportunity to refuel without risking exposure, should the need arise.”

Could the Enigma grab non-Cybertronian mechanicals? Rodimus wondered, a query Ratchet did not have the energy to entertain.

“Thanks, Mags,” Rodimus said out loud. “Take care of the place while we’re gone; you know the drill.”

“Of course, Rodimus. Uh, stay safe?”

Rodimus laughed, a sound that Ratchet felt as a golden thread, spun in a ripple through space before vanishing to nothing. He squinted, trying to make sense of what the hell that had been, but Rodimus’ burst of enthusiasm and plans for the coming journey overwhelmed him.

“Don’t worry, Ratchet’s pride will make sure I get back in one piece.”

You—!

It was going to be a long journey to the outer rim. Though Rodimus was grinning cheekily, the tense coil at the center of his thoughts agreed.

[sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel]

Taxxon Anatomy Inspiration Post

I am still trying to figure out a good way to draw Taxxons. I really have a lot of things I want to do with Taxxons, in particular a Taxxon named Bent-Leg, but I’m never satisfied! I think I have their head figured out, but the body is giving me trouble now. So I’m gonna throw my thoughts here in an easy to visualize format. For reference, here is the Book Cover impression of a Taxxon. It is ugly and makes little sense. I know aliens are alien, but I like my aliens to have some biological grounding, and this has none whatsoever. Suffer with me and gaze upon the monstrosity.

Okay, time to start compiling a list of things Taxxons have and are like.

Fact #1: Taxxons are around 10 feet long on average, sometimes longer. Okay, we have an actual concrete number to work with here, so that’s easy. On Earth during the Mesozoic Era, there was a gigantic centipede known as Arthropleura, which was also around 10 feet long.

Keep in mind this is a wide, flat creature, kind of like a gigantic land trilobite. Taxxons are more tube-shaped and as thick as a tree, but the overall length and width of the centipede is almost spot-on for Taxxons.

Fact #2: Taxxons are bright yellow on average, with some potential variation.

Okay, easy enough to consider. Also, Taxxons have nightmare hunger. Caterpillars are voracious little beasts. So the Taxxon-Caterpillar comparison is easy enough to make.

Fact #3: Taxxons are burrowing creatures. This one gives us some difficulties, actually, because burrowing creatures are generally long and slender. While Taxxons are long, they are anything but slender. While burrowing snakes and lizards tend to dig with their noses, Taxxons instead have a rotating hellmouth that crushes rocks.

There are burrowing creatures who use their face to burrow, such as this cutie.

That’s a Nematode from South Africa which is found deep in the crust, where it burrows through rocks hunting bacteria and other primitive lifeform.

However, the sheer thickness of Taxxons and their raw power brings to mind something decidedly less organic:

Fact #4: Taxxons are soft-bodied and squishy.

The Velvet Worm is perfect here. With the exception of mineralized mouthparts (which Taxxons appear to have, per the book cover art), velvet worms are soft and squishy ambush hunters. They are rather skinny compared to Taxxons, and they’re kind of fluffy (hence the name), but they are structurally similar. They use internal pressurized fluid as a skeleton- it’s implied Taxxons are similar because of how easily Taxxons squish when hit or crushed.

Fact #5: Taxxons have lots of legs

This one I don’t really need an art reference for, because the Velvet Worm and Arthropleura both cover this nicely. According to the cover art, Taxxons have 20 legs and 12 claws for a grand total of 32 limbs. However, the books imply Taxxons have dozens of legs without ever giving us a clear number. The smallest possible number which could be referred to as “dozens” is 2 dozen, or 24 legs. But it’s probably more than that, because no one would say “Dozens” when they could just say “two dozen”.

The above image of Arthropleura should have at least 48 limbs, judging by the number visible. The caterpillar has 24. And the Velvet Worm has somewhere around 88 limbs (My best guess, it’s hard to see some of the legs).

Now, it’s real easy to see *why* the book cover images would have fewer legs. It’s just easier to draw. And the books are never specific, but usually

Fact #6: Taxxons have four big eyes with internalized segmentation and an exterior jelly layer.

Now, I don’t really have a good reference for this. Most animals with segmented eyes have the lenses on the outside, and most animals with jelly eyes only have a single lens. All I can really think is that Taxxons have camera-style eyes, but their retina is subdivided into many, many lenses. For most creatures, these many lenses would all create a single image in their brain, like a pixel TV. However, Taxxons appear to see thousands of seperate images (book #43), which Tobias comments on as being unusual and a sign they had a primitive brain. The only advantage to this that I can think of is that they use it for parallax determinations, which would give them great depth perception and motion tracking. Tobias also mentions seeing color, but it’s not clear how much color vision Taxxons have relative to Humans. He describes Jake and Rachel as pink, but we don’t know if he means “Flesh pink” or “Hot magenta”. I’ll assume “flesh pink”, which probably means Taxxons have full color vision.

Fact #7: Taxxons are basically centipede-centaurs

This is one of the most interesting aspects of Taxxon anatomy. Taxxons are, as previously established, around 10 feet long. However, they can rear as much as half of their body up off the ground to look a human in the eye. Not only that, but their forelimbs are distinctly arm-like, with the top ones having 3 pincers and the lower ones having 2 pincers.  That always makes me think of caterpillars again, as caterpillars can also rear up like that and have specialized forelimbs which are different from their regular walking legs.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Taxxons are actually a lot like gigantic caterpillars, which makes me wonder if a properly fed Taxxon can eventually pupate and turn into a flying horror. Hmmm. Probably not. But still fun to think about. Maybe they could at some point in their past but they don’t anymore because of the Yeerks? Taxxon butterflies. No, wait, I’m getting off topic.

Ummmm....Yeah here’s everything I have as far as inspiration for Taxxons goes, and I will get back to you once I have some ideas on how to actually draw them in a way that pleases me! I still absolutely love thenixart’s Taxxons, which are exemplified here: https://thenixart.tumblr.com/post/188823841740  They are so huggable and soft and they’re almost perfect, but I don’t want to copy them with my design. So yeah, time to figure out what works for me!

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch16

Fight and Flight

Warnings for gore, in depth description of invasive surgical procedures and murder.

Word count - 4,290

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

---------

Your hand trembled around the slim handle of the knife. This was a choice you could not reverse, an action that had no path back. You had to be certain there was no other way, that this was what you really wanted.

What do I want?

“Where’d you find that loser, anyway?”

Your kin scratched his ass and wandered back to the living area, plopping onto your couch and reaching for the remote. As if he lived here, as if he weren’t an invader. As if he was welcome in your life. What you wouldn’t give to have him disappear... 

...I could make that happen.

You caught your breath. It would be so easy, to just sink the blade deep into his gut and twist. Tear his body open and watch the light fade from his eyes. Even thinking about it gave you goosebumps.

But you weren’t a murderer. What was wrong with you, having such dark thoughts? Not to mention enjoying the visuals. No, killing your father wasn’t the answer. There had to be another way. 

Maybe I can incapacitate him somehow?

“Whasamatter, cat got your tongue?”

You pursed your lips and forced your hand to relax, releasing the blade from your iron grip. There was one alternative, though it was extremely risky. It might even end up killing him anyway, but there was a chance he’d survive. Manslaughter, not murder.

You couldn’t think of anything else and you didn’t have time to waste. Every second that passed was one more that V could’ve been caught, could’ve started spilling all your secrets. The knife wouldn’t do. A more precise tool was required. 

“Something like that,” you replied at last, opening a nearby drawer that held your prize. Voices on the television faded in the wake of the dull roar resounding in your ears. 

No more hiding. 

A grunt of acknowledgement was your only response. Your fingertips closed on cool metal and you shuddered, knowing the dark history of the procedure you had to perform. So much could go wrong, but what else could you do? 

Sliding the drawer closed, you took a moment to prepare. The rage and pain of V’s sudden departure, the fury and resentment you held for your father, the itching desire to break free… All your distorted emotions spread out like a buffet of misery. They would only distract you. Unacceptable - focus was imperative. 

One by one, you visualized them in your grasp. Tufts of pain and threads of mirth, strings of shame and rebellion all went inside an imaginary steel box, the lid too heavy for the pesky things to break free. The storm inside calmed with each addition to the box, and as you mentally clicked a padlock in place, a sense of calm descended upon you.

It’s time.

Steady feet carried you to stand behind your father. The patch of baldness on the crown of his reclined head was barely disguised by greasy strands of brown and the light of the screen added a blueish pallor to his skin, as if he were a corpse. 

In a few moments, he very well might be.

“Breaking news - an escaped killer believed to be responsible for the recent killings downtown has been spotted near the financial district. The police are in pursuit and shots have been fired. Law enforcement is advising residents to stay indoors and call immediately if you see the suspect.”

Your stomach sank as an image of V popped up on the screen, green eyes sparkling over a twisted smirk. Shots fired. Police in pursuit. Could this possibly get any worse?

“Holy shit… holy shit, your boyfriend’s a murderer?!”

You just had to ask.

The incredulous eyes of your father met yours, his lips spreading into a sly grin. No doubt the bastard was already imagining ways to use this to his advantage, force you to do whatever he wanted. Harness your mind for nothing more than gambling, all the while treating you like a pile of dog shit he had to scrape from his shoes. It almost made you laugh.

Not this time, dad.

“Yes, he is,” you replied.

And then you slammed the handle of your tool into his temple as hard as you could. 

His expression went slack, a thin trickle of blood trailing from where you split the skin. A quick check of his pulse revealed a thready but stable heartbeat. Perfect.

You angled his head and lined up the slim metal stick. Last chance to change your mind. It was a longshot that you could pull this off properly; you’d never done it before and research only helped so much. The slightest mistake may lead to patricide. Not to mention the risk of infection; your apartment wasn’t exactly a sterile operating room. The best case scenario meant the obliteration of his personality. 

Courts could only charge me with manslaughter, not murder. I’m not a murderer.

You took a deep breath and steadied your hands. There was no time, he could wake at any moment and the longer V had to run, the more likely he’d be captured. The moral ramifications could wait. Consequences be damned.

The metal chopstick slid past your father’s right eye with ease to tap at the frontal bone hiding behind it. Tiny blood vessels surrounding his eye socket burst from the pressure, lines of red that would turn black by the end. With the heel of your unoccupied palm, you struck the chopstick, over and over until the bone gave way with a sickening crack. It didn’t take much - the bone was thin. 

You felt the slightest resistance before his brain tissue gave way. It was softer than you would’ve expected, easy to tear through. Like a tender piece of steak, the meat falling off the bone. The chopstick slid forward as if it had always been there, embedded in your father’s eye socket.

“Here goes nothing…” you whispered.

With a gentle twist, you rotated the utensil forty degrees and wiggled it, severing neurons with every motion as you approached the midline. Trickling blood leaked from the entry point, but not much. It truly was an extraordinary technique, somehow both invasive and not. Simple, yet effective. Grotesque, yet elegant.

The perfect punishment for the misdeeds of your blood.

You spent several minutes ripping away the connections between the frontal lobe and the thalamus. It didn’t have to be perfect, nor did you expect it to be. All you could hope for was that it was enough to prevent him from reporting you to the cops. 

But you wouldn’t know for sure until he woke up.

Which could happen at any time. I’d better hurry.

The left eye went much more quickly, your wrist already learning the motions needed to do the job. You paused to check his pulse, finding it racing but steady. About what you would’ve expected for someone undergoing brain surgery.

One last wiggle of the metal instrument and you sighed. Surely that would be enough? How long was this supposed to take? How did you know when you were done?

Doesn’t matter. I have to get moving.

You withdrew the chopstick at the same angle as the initial entry, cringing at the quiet slurp when it came loose. Blood coated the metal, and a few greyish particles you’d rather not think about. A scent similar to egg whites and copper tinted the air. How long should you wait before leaving him to his fate? Whatever the result of your procedure, there wasn’t much you could do for him now.

Five minutes, then I go. Just to see if he stops bleeding from his eyes.

You set a timer on your watch and spent the scant seconds gathering the essentials, papers and clothing, food and water. The items you were sure to need if you followed through with the barely cognizant plan still forming in your mind. How had it come to this?

It didn’t matter. The reality was that your old life was gone, and there was no turning back now. You were past the point of no return, had been for days. The second you decided to help the murderous artist at the museum instead of turn him in, you had made your choice. 

Your watch chimed; time to go. You had everything you truly needed, the essentials snugly arranged in your old university backpack. The worn out straps slid home across your shoulders as you approached your father for what was most likely the last time. 

“Dad? Can you hear me?”

His eyes were still closed, drying lines of blood lining his cheeks. Purple bruises marked where you’d done your work, dark shadows not unlike a black eye. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest seemed almost normal. At the very least, you hadn’t killed him outright.

You pursed your lips and shook his shoulder. It would be best if you knew how coherent he was before leaving. 

“Hnnn… what happened…?” he murmured. 

Language center intact; a good sign. Hopefully.

“You okay, dad? You passed out,” you replied. 

He blinked owlishly, the bruises a stark contrast against the whites of his eyes. His gaze was clear, but something was gone from his expression. “I think so, just got a headache.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

A wrinkled hand rose to pinch his nose, smearing the blood still wetting his face. He paused and stared at the red streaks, perplexed but not alarmed. “You were behind me, and the news was on… saying something about that guy of yours?”

Memory and basic motor function intact; that could be good or bad. You took a seat beside him and feigned nonchalance, forcing yourself to portray calmness. If he still planned to take advantage of the situation, what were you going to do? If a damned lobotomy didn’t do the trick, how far were you ready to go?

“He’s in trouble, yeah? Huh… did he hurt someone? But he seemed nice enough...”

The confusion would fade in time. If you’d done the procedure right, the inability to make decisions would not. Only time would tell, and you’d wasted enough. He was alive and able to speak, you’d have to take your chances on the rest.

“Yeah, something like that. Listen, I gotta go for a while but make yourself at home.”

The words were bitter on your tongue, but if he left… no doubt he’d cause trouble. The man had a knack for it. Even just a few minutes of his oddly calm demeanor was a shocking contrast to his normal attitude. Had he ever gone this long without insulting you or implying your lack of worth? You didn’t think so. That had to be a good sign, right? That his emotions were no longer able to influence his decisions?

Whatever. Good enough. 

“Okay, hon. See ya later,” he replied. “Love you.”

You forgot how to breathe for a moment. Words you’d never heard him speak until now, uttered so casually as if they meant nothing. You should have lobotomized him years ago. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so broken, wouldn’t have ended up chasing after a serial killer. 

Doesn’t matter. Time to go.

With a final nod at the man you called father, you stood and headed for the door, swiping V’s beanie from the coffee table almost as an afterthought. What came next, you weren’t entirely sure. All you knew was that your career was dead and your friendships (if you could even call them that) were built on lies, and the only person who spoke truth to you was out there, running for his life and being shot at.  

~~~V~~~

The soles of his shoes slapped against pavement as V ran, pumping his legs as fast as possible. Both Griffon and Vergil howled at him to turn around, go back to where he was safe and hidden, but he ignored them. Besides, the police wouldn’t catch him unless he allowed it. They were fools and he, a genius.

He didn’t bother trying to hide as he darted past the vehicle, instead focusing on speed. His options were limited, damn he should've held onto that knife, but he could manage. 

Mere seconds passed before the blaring siren erupted behind him. He didn’t look back; it would only slow him down. With his eyes trained forward he’d be better able to spot a way to elude the idiots in blue.

“This is the police! Stop and put your hands up!”

Not likely.

He vaulted over a picket fence, landing on his feet and dashing off again. How foolish he’d been to hide in the first place, playing house with you as if he could ignore his calling. Idiocy, he should’ve known better than to believe there might be someone who could share his dreams. A companion would be nice, but it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t need you.

He simply wanted you.

Faster, Van Gogh! We gotta book it!

The artist didn’t respond, too busy panting as he slid under a decorative banner. Apparently, the fishing festival was coming to town. 

“I said stop!”

He almost rolled his eyes. If the fools didn't wield guns, he’d already have them by the throat. However, without a weapon of his own a direct confrontation was suicide. Running was his best option, until he could arm himself. Even a length of pipe would do, he didn’t have the luxury of being picky.

A soft grunt slipped from his lips as he shoved aside a passing civilian, trying to throw the confused imbecile into the police officers’ path as he fled. Perhaps he ought to shatter a window and use the glass to rip them apart? No, it would take too long.

If only he’d had more time, spent his energy on learning the area and all its hidden secrets instead of on luring you to his side. A city this size always had shortcuts and navigational oddities, things he could’ve exploited to hasten his escape. Instead, he had to improvise. Street traffic wouldn’t be enough to lose his pursuers.

Can’t risk taking an alley; I don’t know which are dead ends. The roofs, perhaps? No, nowhere to hide…

He palmed a sign pole, spinning to change direction and sprinting off once again, his breath a staccato rhythm matching his steps. The police siren blared behind him, blue and red lighting the brickwork to his left as the vehicle’s tires squealed through the sharp turn, straight through a red light. Ordinary folk stared at the spectacle, wide eyed and sheeplike in their foolishness. Soon enough, they would learn the truth. 

“Stop or we will open fire!”

The artist dared to glance over his shoulder, gauging the likelihood of the threat coming to pass. The police cruiser was less than two car lengths behind him, and the officer in the passenger seat had his weapon drawn, muzzle pointed to the sky but clearly at the ready. He’d have less than an instant to dodge. Far from ideal…

He growled and wove his way between passerby, doing what he could to shelter in their wake. If this was to be his technique, he needed to find a more populated area. The wrong choice spelled his doom. Which way, which way?

A crack of thunder split the sky, yelps of alarm echoing a beat behind. The idiotic onlookers crouched and covered their heads, fear twisting their features as they tried not to get in the way. A harsh chill danced up V’s spine.

He’d seen faces like this before. 

Don’t think about it, this isn’t the time. Just keep moving.

Sweat prickled his brow, goosebumps breaking out across his bare forearms. Images of blood and terror filled his mind. The past was not so easily ignored. 

“V, what the hell?! Get down!”

He gritted his teeth and ran on. Dwelling on Nero was the opposite of helpful now, he needed to focus. Every step he took could be his last taste of freedom, if he wasn’t careful. Isolating the officers would be the first step, but how?

Jade eyes continuously scanned the street as the artist ran on, forcing himself not to stop despite the growing fatigue tugging at his limbs. A dead sprint was not easy to maintain, but he had no choice. Just a little longer, an opportunity would present itself soon. It had to.

“Take care of her…”

He shook off the memory. Someone screamed as another crack of thunder echoed through the air. V forced his legs to keep going, keep running until he found a way to fight, but he couldn’t go much longer. Soon, he would have no choice. The human body had its limits, he knew that better than most.

Salvation took the form of a subway entrance, graffitied and smelling of human piss and sweat. He didn’t hesitate, taking the stairs three at a time and vaulting over the turnstile without looking back. Every second counted. 

The telltale rumble of an approaching train fanned the flames of hope in his heart. Almost free, just a few heartbeats more and he could pause, catch his breath. The only disappointment would be the lack of blood left in the wake of his flight, but perhaps it wasn’t too late for that. Being stuck in a metal tube full of idiotic commuters might be just what he needed to forget the sting of leaving you behind.

He followed a group of nearby civilians, letting them lead him to the tracks as shouts echoed down the stairwell. A young woman smiled at him as he passed, her hair a pale reflection of your auburn and slate locks. He should slit her throat for daring to look him in the eye, but there was no time. 

There - a voice, announcing the impending arrival of his freedom.

“710 to North Riverside, now arriving on track A.”

He paused and scanned the signs above, clever eyes finding his target quickly. Left, then right and down. Almost there. The subway would carry him to safety, set him free to pursue his work once more. It may even serve as a backdrop, get his mind back where it needed to be.

Focused on his masterpiece.

The horde of lambs surrounding him thickened as he neared the platform, the cries of his pursuers fading away in the chatter of the masses. They discussed meaningless drivel, the actions of famous fools and the latest news about fashion. As if there were nothing of higher importance; the artist curled his lip in disgust. Hopefully, a few of them would board his train and be his latest canvases. Their bleached hair and perfectly made up faces held such potential, how delightful they would be twisted into agony. Their painted lips frozen in grimaces, their eyes forever wide with fear… 

Focus! We are not yet safe.

V grunted and shoved past men in suits carrying briefcases and slipped between distracted students, their textbooks heavy on their backs. He wove his way closer until at last, his feet moved from the stone platform to the metal tube that would save him. Still, even aboard the subway he didn’t dare relax. There may yet be those nearby who could capture him, or those who would do him harm. No, not until his work was complete could he afford to be lax. 

As the subway screeched into motion, he made his way forward to the next cabin. Few of his fellow travelers paid him any mind, but all it took was one. His eyes swept across every face as he moved, ever watchful for his next canvas or a sign of recognition. Another cabin, then two, until he could go no further and only eight souls shared his air. Still too many for his liking, but he grasped a pole and held tight for balance anyway.

“Next stop, 21st Avenue Station.”

A pair of youthful faces on his left shifted, their bodies not far behind as they prepared to disembark. Two down, how many to go? Six? Depending on their temperament he may be able to slaughter them all.

The artist bent his knees as the momentum shifted, the cabin slowing to a stop. A soft chime sounded from the overhead speakers a moment before the doors opened, releasing passengers and inviting new ones aboard. 

“Nobody move! This is the police!”

Oh, no…

Adrenaline once again flooded his blood as V watched two figures in blue board, holding out badges as they scanned the cabin. Of course they’d followed him; it can’t have been hard to determine which line he took. There were only so many, after all. 

“What’s happening?” asked a spectacled passenger in a fancy business suit. “You’re going to make me late for my board meeting!”

The officers barely glanced at him. V lowered his face and feigned disinterest, yet his entire body was coiled and ready to spring. If they came close enough, there would be no escape. All he had to do was wait; his prey would do the hard part for him, then he could make his escape. 

“We have reason to believe a fugitive is on board. Has anyone seen this man?”

Just a little closer…

Freshly polished black shoes entered his field of view, their every step echoing like war drums in the artist’s skull. His fingers tingled in anticipation, visions of crimson dancing behind his half-closed lids. Goosebumps erupted across his body and he drew in a shaky breath, his need almost too powerful to bear. Only the knowledge of impending satisfaction kept him from losing his composure and striking too soon. 

“Are you people serious? Clearly I’m not a fugitive, why can’t I leave?” the irate businessman crowed.

A thin smirk twisted the artist’s lips. If the man continued, he may become a useful distraction. 

“Sir, please calm down. We’ll have you out of here as soon as we can,” replied one of the officers, a young man by the sound of his voice. 

“But ‘soon’ isn’t now. You see the issue?”

The shiny black shoes turned; the officer now faced the foolish man. Perfect.

Ebony hair fluttered as V bolted forward, snarling as he slammed the closer officer’s skull against the pole he’d moments ago held for balance. A sickening crunch rewarded his efforts and the blue-clad man crumpled to the ground bonelessly as blood leaked from the fresh indent in his head.

The passengers cursed and screamed, horrified expressions only serving to feed V’s bloodlust. He spun, making a circle in the growing bloodstain with his toes as he faced his next adversary, a blond officer not much older than himself. A fool, seeking justice in a world that granted none. If only he knew the truth.

No matter - soon enough, they would all see. 

The officer’s shaking hands struggled to release his firearm, panic clear in the dilation of his widened grey eyes. Still, the weapon cracked as the lad squeezed the trigger, spewing death to any who were unfortunate enough to be in its haphazard path.

The artist ducked, moving faster than he should've been able to as he avoided lethal hits. A single bullet pierced his thigh but he ignored it - he’d seen worse and the victims had kept fighting. It would dishonor their memory if he faltered now.

Instead, he bolted closer to his assailant, wrapping his long fingers around the poor young man’s neck to slam his delicate skull against the thick glass behind him. A smear of red marked the point of impact, the only remnant of his final breath. 

With the immediate threat resolved, V smirked at the crowd and waited, content to revel in their horror. It mattered not whether his remaining foes chased him down or wandered into his path unaware, the end result would be the same. Crimson, a massive swatch of life blood decorating the walls and floors of the subway. Reminding those who used it that the transport was built on the spines of slaves. Nothing to be proud of. 

“Run,” he growled.

The terrified group gaped at him, eight souls too shocked to realize they were free. Eight new voices to spread his message, to tell the tale of an unarmed man taking down two police officers bare handed. The thought brought a wicked grin to his face and he licked his lips, catching the taste of scarlet on his tongue. Delicious.

He raised an eyebrow at the nearest passenger, a young woman on a seat whose pants featured a wet stain between her legs. Terrified tears streaked her perfectly applied blush, dark with her runny mascara. “Now, little lamb.”

She trembled but managed to rise, her shaky legs carrying her to the platform and to the relative safety it offered. The other seven witnesses weren’t far behind her, all of them staring at him as they fled the scene. Alone at last, V surveyed his handiwork. Two dead police officers, not much of a mess but enough to whet his appetite. 

If only he had the time to properly utilize their corpses. He’d yet to create a public display, and it excited him to imagine the far-flung reach such a bold act would elicit. They would whisper his name to their children, tell tales of his deeds and fear the dark as they always should have, these people. These sheep.

But he couldn't afford to linger, and there would be other chances. It was beyond time to refocus on his goal, his masterpiece. Enough tomfoolery. 

V smirked as he stepped to the still open door, pausing to pick up a discarded or forgotten cell phone. No doubt it would prove useful in his exploits. He couldn’t wait to get started.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~