#cause his attachment to puppet is like—nothing

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

I wonder how Marcos would feel about Orellia’s unhealthy attachment to a comatose body—actually I wonder how the rangers will react to sidestep and puppet in general

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Dove,” a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.

You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.

Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.

Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.

“The one who heals the ill and poor,” Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. “The one who has the 141 in knots. That’s you, isn’t it, dove?”

You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasn’t there physically, hell, you weren’t sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.

The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“Oh, this will be fun,” he cooed. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Stood frozen in place, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with — like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.

“What are ye doin’ down there, dove?” a voice called. “Looks like ye seen a ghost.”

The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crow’s nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.

“I am fine,” you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. “What are you doing up there?”

“She’s a crow’s nest for a reason. I’m watchin’ for the storm, seein’ if I can spot anythin’ out of the ordinary like I’m a bird, birdie” Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. “What are ye doin’ down there?”

You frowned at him, unamused. “I plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,” you replied. “I’m just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.”

Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. “If I have any more knowledge up in this noggin’ of mine, it might explode.” He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.

“I do not believe there is much in there at all,” you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t deny the way Soap put you at ease.

“Ach, yer a bird that bites. What happened to bein’ a sweet bird?” he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.

Your smile grew and you shook your head. “Where is Ghost?” you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.

“That lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weather’s makin’ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goin’ back, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.

It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.

You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didn’t have.

“I see,” you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. “I am… happy that he has someone like you.”

Soap’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. “Ah, c’mon, dove. Ye got us, too.”

Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.

You weren’t sure what you desired, anyway.

“Right,” you agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll be going now. Please, do not fall while I’m gone — or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.”

Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. “Mean li’l bird,” he teased.

With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.

Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadn’t quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.

“Hello, Gaz,” you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soap’s clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.

“Dove,” Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.

The resources you’d been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited for—yet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.

You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejection—it was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.

Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.

What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?

“Is someone hurt?”

You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. “No. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.”

So much for avoiding him.

“Is that so?” he asked. You weren’t sure why his tone seemed so… off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.

You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.

Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.

You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.

When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.

Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.

“Are you avoidin’ me?” he asked lowly.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldn’t take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else he’d know.

“No,” you stammered, frowning. “I am just— Price is waiting for me.”

Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your fault—you had never shared one.

“There is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,” he commented.

“I am looking at you right now,” you defended weakly.

“What you’re doin’ is actin’ different,” he said slyly, mirroring your frown. “What, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?”

“That—” You inhaled sharply. “That is not what is happening.”

“So, I have read them right, then.”

“I do not know what signs you are referring to.”

“Don’t be daft, dove.”

Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.

“It is improper to refer to a woman as daft,” you hissed in defense.

“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.

This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.

“You have never been kissed before?” he continued.

Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.

“That is inappropriate, Gaz,” you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. “I must return to Price. I—I cannot have this conversation.”

“You will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,” he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. “Do not make me the one to suffer.”

You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.

The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.

The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.

You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.

You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.

“I will not avoid you,” you muttered quietly. “I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.”

You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.

The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Price’s quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.

The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasn’t a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.

When you looked up at the crow’s nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.

“You took quite some time,” Price noted as you stepped inside. “Did you walk the plank along your way?”

You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. “I ran into Soap,” you explained.

“I see.” Price smiled in acknowledgment. “Alright, dove. Let’s begin, hm?”

“You are not very good at this.”

You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you weren’t looking.

“That’s why you’re the expert, dove,” he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. “I do not see how this will become a paste.”

“Did you mix in the drops of water like I told you?” you asked.

He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.

“Was I correct?” you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.

“Silence,” he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. “I pray this medicine proves to be useful.”

“It is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,” you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. “I am sure it will come in handy.”

Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snort—a Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.

“It is not bad,” you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. “Much better after the water.”

He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gaz’s room was feeling crowded.

“I am only teasing,” you said with a smile. “It’s almost as good as mine.”

Price snorted, smiling back. “Aye, I’m a Captain, not a medic. That’s your specialty,” he retorted.

“And will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?”

He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. “Are the boys not fun to room with?”

Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. “No, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not… suitable.”

Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.

“That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roomin’ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,” he replied thoughtfully.

“You forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,” you reminded him.

Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.

“Would you prefer to stay here, then?” he asked. “You may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.”

You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.

Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.

“You would not mind?” you asked wearily.

Price shrugged. “I may prefer it, actually.”

Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. He’d prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?

You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.

“You’d prefer it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why?”

The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.

The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.

You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadn’t noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.

“The storm’s brewin’ real fast, Cap,” Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He must’ve climbed down the nest in a haste. “We need to get her steady. It’s comin’ down faster than we thought.”

The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. “Go collect Gaz and Ghost,” he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. “Dove, you’re stayin’ here.”

“I must be of help—”

“Here,” he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. “That’s an order.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.

Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envy—it was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.

You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.

“Dove.”

The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.

You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.

You couldn’t sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.

The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.

Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.

Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.

The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.

“Isn’t this fun, dove?” Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.

You knew he was near. Before, you couldn’t feel his presence—now, it felt stronger than ever.

You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldn’t be able to see him from below.

Your eyes landed on the crow’s nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.

Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.

“Dove?” Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. “Dove! What are ye doin’?”

You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldn’t chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.

“What the hell is she doin’ out?” Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.

The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.

The pirate’s voices grew farther away as you approached the crow’s nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.

You needed to know if your thoughts were true—if Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.

You stood on the crow’s nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any sign—and there it was.

A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldn’t see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.

Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.

[sunseed-fandump]

Heyya! Wanted to ask, since there is the Bad Batch's reaction's to the Ancients, but what do you think the Beast (so far) reaction to them, and vice versa?

Mystic Flour Cookie ==> The kids find it kind of pathetic that the minute her Cocoon of Enlightenment Plan went awry that she just... Gave up. Was it not fair that a false rumor ruined her plan? Yeah. But the fact she threw in the towel the minute things didn't go her way makes her come off more like a spoiled brat than anything.

As for Mystic Flour's opinion on the kids, she would find them pathetic in her own way. After all, what could three small children hope to achieve when they're literally going up against the entire world? At least in the case of the Beasts, they were created with the power of gods. They were made to shift the world and change it however they saw fit, as it was their creators who gave them that birthright. But these small cookies? They're nothing but ignorant selfish children who rebel for the sake of rebelling. Their hopes to do anything meaningful or impactful are for naught.

Burning Spice Cookie ==> While the kids do enjoy causing more than a bit of property damage here and there, they can't really get behind the idea of reducing the world to nothing but a lifeless wasteland of ashes. They're not interested in engaging in a war without reason. They view Burning Spice as a warmonger and disagree with his sentiment that the lives of others merely exist for his entertainment. If you're THAT bored, then get a damn hobby!

On Burning Spice's end, he would like the kids' spunk! But he would find it pathetic that they're holding back and getting so attached to each other and others. Friendships are a weakness, a vulnerability to exploit. They're limiting their true lethal potential by harboring these useless things. The children have already caused plenty of destruction, so why not just allow their lust for chaos to consume them completely? They should just let go and become the monsters they were clearly meant to be.

Shadow Milk Cookie ==> They fucking HATE this guy!!! Gingerbrave can't stand the fact he's a manipulator and puppets others like they're his toys. Wizard hates him on principle because malicious lies and rumors are something that made his life incredibly difficult. Wild Strawberry hates him because he's a clown. She doesn't like clowns. Overall, the general consensus is: This guy fucking sucks!!!! Throw tomatoes at him!!!!

As for Shadow Milk's opinion on the kids, well he'd just find them and their pointless little crusade a-DORABLE! (in a condescending way) The way they're fruitlessly struggling against the tides of fate is HILARIOUS! They're blindly following this vague idea of a "free world" that's dangling in front of them like a carrot on a stick, when really it's all just a comforting lie the kids told themselves in a pathetic attempt to give themselves purpose! The chaos and mischief they cause is definitely entertaining, and it's even juicer with that little twinge of tragedy. Simple cookies like them exist purely to be at the mercy of perfect cookies like himself. They can't change fate, even if they DID obtain all the Soul Jam! It's just not in the cards for them. They'll just keep running 'round and around until they break, and he'll be right there to make it all the more entertaining! Ah, but, he supposes they could be useful. After all, Pure Vanilla Cookie went and got himself attached. How sweet....

[shelly-vision]

Welcome Home Cow Tools Theory: the weirdest Welcome Home theory you’ll ever see.

Hi. Welcome to my dumbass theory. Please hear me out on this.

So, in case you’re somehow unaware, Clown and Huck just held a Q&A about Welcome Home. Among the many silly questions and sillier answers, user can of maple beans asked the following question.

And attached to the answer was this image.

Now, the common response to this would naturally be “wut?” But unfortunately I spend too much time online and as such, it didn’t take me long to remember what the reference was.

Now, this probably makes things more confusing to some people. Luckily I’m here to explain it.

BUT

Before I do, I need to post the other Q&A prompt that will be relevant to this discussion.

Please put a pin in this for later. Now, I will explain Cow Tools.

Cow Tools is a one-panel comic from the series “the Far Side” by Gary Larson released in October of 1982. The Far Side consists of similar one-panel comics all telling some silly punchline. However, Cow Tools goes beyond that. The joke of the panel is very simple. The idea is that if cows made tools, they’d probably be weird and unsophisticated. However, a lot of people didn’t understand it. Upon the debut of Cow Tools, the phones of the newspaper company that published it didn’t stop ringing for nearly two days straight as people were continuously calling to ask what the joke was. This lack of understanding caused severe backlash and hate to form for Cow Tools. To put it in simpler terms, this simple thing was over complicated by people, causing them to not understand it, and in response, they turned their lack of understanding into hate. However, decades later, Cow Tools found its audience among the internet, as the sheer absurdity of the comic makes it a somewhat popular anti-joke.

Now, I bet you’re wondering, “Overwhelmingly niche tumblr user and Total Drama fanfiction writer Shelly_Vision, what does anything about Cow Tools have to do with Welcome Home, let alone the homophobia discussion you told us to put a pin in? Surely the joke Clown and Huck were making with Julie Tools is just that it’s meaningless and meant to be a non-answer, right?” And that is probably true. I probably am overanalyzing and all of this could be meaningless. However I hyperfixate way too much and said hyperfixatuon leads me to come up with theories that might mean utter nonsense. But the small chance remains that I’m onto something. So because of that, I will now present what this theory is truly about with my full chest.

Julie Tools tells us the exact reason why the show Welcome Home was cancelled. Yes I am completely serious and allow me to explain.

Let’s ask ourselves this: why was Julie Tools posted in response to asking if romance would be a part of Welcome Home’s story? What does Cow Tools have to do with romance?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Cow Tools, as a comic, has nothing to do with romance. The content of the comic itself is meaningless. What we need to do here is not apply the comic to romance, but to apply the comic’s *reception* to romance.

Now is when we need to return to the homophobia discussion. Welcome Home as a show released in the 70s. Back then, the general audience didn’t understand queer people and turned the lack of understanding into hate. What romance would result in this puppet show getting immense backlash?

A queer romance.

Yes I am fully serious in saying that this random reference to Cow Tools is meant to tell us that Welcome Home was cancelled and all mention of it was scrubbed away due to backlash from its inclusion of queer characters. Backlash and hatred of something simple that the public didn’t understand and decided to hate it because of that.

Dear reader, why would all of this stuff about Welcome Home resurface in the 2020s? Because just like how Cow Tools didn’t find its audience until decades after it was published, Welcome Home didn’t find its audience until now. In a day and age where queer people are accepted. And it seems a lot of queer people are drawn to this project.

Welcome Home is (at least partially) about queer erasure. I’ve had a feeling this would be the case for years now but this just strengthens by certainty in it.

Alright now for the more speculative parts of the theory. My main point was the general queer erasure stuff, now I want to get a little more into character stuff.

So first off, why is it Julie Tools? It feels like Frank and Eddie are more overtly queer characters, and while Julie still is very queer coded, it’s not as overt as characters like Frank, Eddie, Sally, or Poppy. Julie’s queer coding is mostly limited to her interactions with Sally. (See my Julie character analysis for more elaboration.) Well, here’s something purely speculative. As shown in the most recent update, Julie is someone who often feels like her only value is in what she can do for others. So, what if, on the cusp of the general public discovering Frank and/or Eddie and/or Poppy and/or Sally is queer, Julie outs herself as a form of self-sacrifice. That way the general public forgets its speculations about the others and all the backlash ends up being directed to Julie’s character instead? This feels kind of reachy but hey maybe I’m onto something. Uh the mentions of nonstop phone ringing reminded me of Wally’s connection to phones, tho that one’s definitely unrelated. Also seeing the Q&A show Julie in Y2K fashion and Sally in Y3K fashion felt extremely yuri to me and I’m adding that to the pile of sapphic hints. Maybe the always and clumsy nature of the tools represents awkward and clumsy romantic feelings? Yeah at this point I’m reaching.

TLDR: the in-universe show of Welcome Home was cancelled and all mention of it was scrubbed from the world because of its queer characters. I may be drowning in my autism and hyperfixation.

[noodle-is-unstable]

The JJK Characters favorite toys

(Head Cannons)

Ft ~ Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Choso, Takuma Ino, Shiu Kong, Uraume, Yuki Tsukumo, Shoko Ieiri, Mahito Synopsis ~ What the JJK Characters favorite sex toys are Content Warning ~ 18+, sex toys, idk bruh 18+ things

Gojo ~

Prostate Massager

Gojo is a sucker for pleasure and seeks out the most he can. Loves being overstimulated, and what's a better way than having his prostate bullied while being buried in you. He'll be crying, drooling and babbling nonsense by the time you're both done

Geto ~

Spreader Bar

Geto enjoys bullying you in the name of pleasure. Keeping your legs spread wide so he can do whatever he wants between them is just all too fun. Will also push the bar behind your head so you're on full display and there isn't anything you can do about it

Nanami ~

Vibrator

Nanami is a sucker for your pleasure. He could get off hands free from watching you enjoy yourself under his touch. Anything that can give you more pleasure drives him wild but seeing you squirm under a full blast vibrator while he fucks you is like nothing else

Toji ~

Nipple Clamps

Toji loves some pain with pleasure play. Even better he'll attach one end to your nipple and the other end to his, a chain connecting you both as you fuck. He loves to see how hard he can pull between the both of you before it snaps off. Whoever lost the clamp has to go on top

Sukuna ~

Rope

Sukuna is a slut for Shibari. He loves how the intricate rope designs frame your body and will even let you tie him up with it as long as he isn't restrained. He finds Shibari to be a calming art that also drives him wild. He will pull the rope to control you like a puppet

Choso ~

Sounding Rod

Choso is a sucker for pain meets pleasure. Putting in a sounding rod deep enough to stimulate his prostate will have him crying in pleasure. Watching you stretch out his cock hole will have his tongue hanging out and pleasure filled tears spilling

Ino ~

Cock Cage

Ino loves cock torture when its in your hands. An all too tight cage containing his cock while you hold the key. Won't even beg you to unlock it, he'll just press it against you so you can feel his cum drooling out

Shiu ~

Cock Ring

Shiu loves the extra sensation a cock ring gives. The almost painful way it makes his veins pop and makes him impossibly harder. The sensation of blood being trapped in his cock with have his eyes rolling back upon entry

Uraume ~

Electrostimulator

Uraume loves foreplay toys like electrostimulation (electric current). Watching the electricity dance from the rod to their body gives them goosebumps. Their favorite though is when you run the current through your hand then use your fingertips to leave a trail of electricity through them

Yuki ~

Strap On

Yuki won't even go on vacation without one. Her collection is so vast there is every size, shape and creature available. Every day will be a different dildo but it'll always be strapped to her

Shoko ~

Sex Swing

Shoko enjoys the free, floating feeling of a sex swing. Whether its her being rocked on it or you, it doesn't matter. She just adores the different positions and free floating feeling it gives

Mahito ~

X Cross

Mahito wants to be restrained and used. An X cross is his dream. Spread completely out and unable to move while being totally exposed? Sign him up. Lock him down. Use him like the toy he wants to be

No real Kink just a Lube Safety reminder. Though silicone lube is most common it should be used with caution. Silicone lube is long lasting, and great for use in wet places like the shower or bath but it has its cons. Silicone lube is dangerous for vaginal use and can cause bacterial build up. It can also damage silicone toys and may not be suitable with all condoms. It may also stain clothing or sheets. It should also not be consumed orally. Water based lube is a fantastic option but doesn't last as long and may need multiple applications. It is easy to clean up, safe to use with toys and condoms, and comes in more flavors and texture/feel options. Some water based lubes can contain glycerin which may cause yeast infections in some. Always read the label carefully Choose the right lube for each situation and always use caution before just picking the first lube you see.

[deusvervewrites]

Phantasm: Thinking about Ghost Puppet laughing at the Shie Hassaikai and having Thoughts.

Imagine spending 200 years being stolen and used for the worst things imaginable back to back to back. Your wielders see the news and maybe you don't get it cause you're not even sentient, or maybe you do, but nothing they say about you or your wielders are good.

Then after 13 wielders, you've had enough. You slip right out and attach yourself to the first person you can and that's it.

The first decision you'll make in 200 years. And huh, no quirk, and Uh Oh, it's a child, a fucking middle schooler. And the kid panics until it hits that he can't be a hero. All he thinks is that he'll go to turbo super jail and shuts down.

And shit you just got a grip on sapience with like, 1 pinkie and honestly not even, so you kinda have to agree with the kid, 13 villainous wielders isn't a good track record. So you just kinda watch as the kid, who knows just about everything about you that's neat, just kinda flows around with no real energy and you think you're feeling guilt wow that's a sucky emotion.

And then the kid goes vigilante.

It's not on purpose, the kid just sees a mugging and hey there's a conveniently magnetic trash can lid right there next to the mugger and now it's conveniently and rapidly relocated to the side of said muggers head.

And the kid is happy, you can kinda tell by the big smile on his face, but the tears are confusing so you don't really feel what you're feeling just that something is there.

And the kid keeps going, unsteady and with more close calls than you're comfortable with (and Hey! Discomfort is an emotion! It Sucks!) but he makes it out every time, and he's feeling a little better. (You're also feeling something separate from the Discomfort, not sure what.)

He's analyzing all the quirks you've collected and he is going nuts, using them in new, insane ways and every time you think he's capped out what he can do with a quirk, he's found some new combo, or mechanic and it's even crazier and the kid is ecstatic every break through. (Why didn't anyone else figure this out? Why didn't the previous wie- users wield you like Midoriya? He's not even out of Middle school!)

Then, after many nights of vigilantism, he runs into an even smaller kid. And at this point even you can tell something is not right, even before she begs you to not let that weirdo in a bird mask take her. One rapid information dig is all it takes figure out the Shie Hassaikai are going down.

(Anger comes in many flavors you've found. Anger at injustice is the most bitter.) (It's become the most familiar throughout your memories.)

And it's in the middle of the fight with the Hassaikai that you figured it out. As you're slugging it out, as Midoriya is not quite dancing around his opponents, as he puts his all into saving Eri from these monsters, you finally get what you've been feeling.

You're happy.

You're happy, not just from fighting. You fought for your users before, and every memory about those fights are at best indifference and at worst disgust. Just fighting isn't what makes you happy.

It's fighting to save another, for no other reason than they need saving, and you have the ability to save them. And you're furious too that it took this long for a good man to not use you, but actually wield you, let alone for good. And you're grief stricken that it's not a man, but a child. And shameful that it's your fault he wields you. But through all that you're happy. You're so happy you could just start

(In the middle of the fight, as Rappa and Ghost Puppet are fighting, the Ghost Puppet opens its mouth and, for the first time in 200 years it’s heard)

laughing

(It laughs and laughs as the fighting slows, everyone distracted by the laughter, a few glances to Phantasm show that even they're frozen at Ghost Puppet's laughter. But not for long.)

(The fight resumes, but now with an eerie laugh track, as even when Rappa throws the Puppet through no less than three walls, it doesn't stop laughing. It's only as Izuku makes his way to Eri's room that Ghost Puppet's laughter peters off.)

As Izuku reaches Eri's, and as Ghost Puppet quiets, he throws a look to it. Its empty sockets stare back.

Izuku takes a moment, two, before turning back to the door to Eri as Ghost Puppet retreats back into him. The time for quirk analysis is later. Eri comes first.

(I have no idea where all that came from, this supposed to be like one paragraph talking about how Ghost Puppet would evolve and then a second paragraph that was the bit about GP laughing I typed out on my phone at work and then it exploded. Clearly Ghost Puppet possessed me to write about it.)

(Also I'm not even sure if this counts as just ask, this might qualify as a AU fic, even though it might not fit with your idea of GP's character.)

(Also sorry if there’s formatting stuff I had to take screenshots to save and copy/paste into a note to save it from tumblr’s ask box.)

:D

[darlingdaisyfarm]

ok so this was SUPPOSED to be just a scene in my fic but now idk if i should make it a one-shot bc DAMNN

i was just writing & building up this scene in my fic and then my brain just fucking broke. because. WHAT IF

so imagine bursting into Ford's lab (pre portal) bc you need to find Ford’s journal (for the plot). u know there’s something in there, smth about shutting the portal down and u can't let Bill get his hands on it

but the second you see Ford you know it's not him because of his posture & intonation of voice is wrong too. when he finally turns to face you his eyes are yellow

Bill finds it hilarious, he thinks ur nothing, weak, dumb, not even worth worrying about so he just. lets you in

he’s leaning against the workbench, throwing out some "aww, you came all this way for me, sweetheart?" just bullshit, probably trying to get under ur skin but you don't take the bait, don't even look at him

and then you just start smashing his shit and BILL FREEZES. genuine panic for the first time. because you're destroying everything they worked on. ur hands sweep across the workbench, smashing glass, overturning notes, sending stacks of delicate calculations flying

“HEY” you don't stop, grabbing the nearest equipment and throwing it, sending a monitor crashing, the screen shattering into a mess of exposed wires and ruined circuits.

Ford (Bill) panics like “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, OKAY, RELAX, SWEETHEART, LET’S NOT—”

“HEY, THOSE TAKE TIME, Y’KNOW—”

you don't give a fuck bc you need to find that damn journal while Bill is trying to dodge the chaos, scrambling to grab whatever’s left, floundering.....

so when your back is facing him Bill lunges, wanting to attack you BUT THEN BUT THEN BUT THENNNNNNN you whirl around with Ford's journal in hand and Bill stops immediately because there’s a memory gun pressed right between his fucking eyes!!!! (well Ford's eyes but you get me)

for the first time Bill actually feels threatened. but no no no he doesn’t let it show, he won’t let it show. instead his lips curl

i haven't figured out what he's going to say yet, still working on dialogue but maybe something as:

“ohhhh, baby, ya don’t wanna do that.”

“what, you really gonna do it? really gonna erase your precious genius from his own mind? gonna wipe out every little memory he’s ever had? everything you've ever shared?”

“oh, c'mon, u really wanna erase ALL that? all that brainpower? all those little memories? what was it, your first date? your first kiss?”

and all of that while he takes a step forward, coming closer until he's right in front of you. he leans in. presses you back against the workbench

“you really wanna lose all that? cause lemme tell ya, dummy, he won’t remember a damn thing about you.”

ur finger twitches on the trigger and Bill is like “aw, don’t feel bad,” while wrapping Ford's fingers around your wrist. “you humans and your little attachments. it's cute, really. adorable, even. but c’mon, sweetheart. we both know you ain’t gonna do it. you don’t wanna hurt our lovely brainiac. deep down, you know he'd never forgive you”

“Ford would rather forget me than be your puppet.” you say

anyways

im still thinking about how i should write this scene. it can be two ways

1. you grip the gun tighter and Bill tilts his head, his grin widens and then that freak leans forward until the barrel of the gun slides past his lips. “y'know, Ford's got a real sensitive gag reflex.”

2. Bill leans in and presses his forehead against the barrel. “go on, sweetheart, pull the trigger. pull that trigger and poof! your little nerd loses everything.”

anyways bill cipher you are a whore that's all i wanted to say

[ur-mousey]

Cross My Heart and Hope to Die~

-Yan!Andrew Graves x F!Reader x Yan!Ashley Graves-

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

Part 1, 3 (coming out soon)

chapter two The Doll prt 1

summary A doll's presence is all it took to cause a ripple effect to occur. warning familial neglect/abuse, quarantine trauma, hunger, implied cheating

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

Porcelain dolls have eyes that notice the insignificant details. They settle on a freckle four cm to the left and a quarter inch above your cupid's bow. To anyone but the doll, it would go unnoticed. So, when one peeks at it through its glass confinements, its eyes won't meet them; instead, it'll linger on that minor imperfection. That fracture in a supposedly perfect mold. However, no one's face is prettier than a doll. Once they've noticed all that makes you human, then and only then- will they turn their gaze to the tacky florals patterning the walls.

Mommy had dressed you as such.

Then she yelled at you for seeing the wrinkles gathering around her brows. Adding with age and multiplying with substances.

Daddy left and it meant that Mommy blamed you for driving a wedge within their relationship. Father never wanted a girl. He reminded you each birthday he was present that only lesser men spawned pussies. You never shot back a retort, finding buttercream swirls more appealing than his face.

Then Jared ran away before you turned twelve. He loathed your doe expression. He wanted to cram you into a box to look at forever. The desire to snap your legs to keep you like a wingless bird ever-present in his thoughts. You were so pretty that he tried bruising your flesh to make you undesirable. But, it fueled his preadolescent hormones.

That's why Jared fled. His conflicts were written on torn-out pages of your favorite books, haphazardly strewn under your pillows.

By fifteen, all Mommy had was you and your porcelain eyes.

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

You tensed over the checkered tile floor, which you've stared at all morning. The A/C whirled down the hall, sputtering out of sync; it hardly worked, and no repair man could be called. You toed at the roughed-up edges of wooden planes, meeting the kitchen flooring. You traced purple scribbles from a marker long discarded with the heels of your feet. You chuckled at your balance seeming off. Your stomach ached, but nothing could be delivered.

The last you've eaten to satiate the tiniest bit of hunger was a can of tomatoes warmed on the stovetop a half day prior. Unfortunately, it was split among three -the Graves siblings and yourself.

You paced on tip-toes from the sink to the front door -barred on the outside. You used to peek each morning through the peephole for a sign of life besides the security guard making his rounds. And each time, there was one pair of footfalls on the water-drenched carpet.

These days you felt like a marionette, stumbling through the motions on uneven limbs. Your right side lifted higher than your left, and your arms splayed parallel to your hips as if you held onto the wire strings itself. If you hopped off pointe, you felt limp and discarded. Worn out. As though the puppeteer decided a doll of more novelty deserved to breathe life.

And if you ever did stop moving then the TV's saccharine buzz would meld into your pores as it spoke its static language. Foreign if not for its monotony over your life. It reminded you that death remained your last resort.

You wouldn't survive this.

"You're up..." A voice startled your reverie. It was lithe and wooly in the air with hints of sleep attached to each syllable. Leyley stretched over the couch's mustard arm. "That burns calories." She gestured flippant at your display.

"Your point... We'll die anyways," You chewed on your inner cheek.

Ashely faced away. Any snide remark wrangled tight to her chest.

She shrugged, "Who's Andy on the phone with?"

You glanced over at Andrew, the only member of this dump who was fortunate enough to receive weekly check-in calls. "Probs it's Julia."

Who else could it be besides her? Julia this and Julia that. When the phone rang, Andrew pounced for the receiver, soaring head-first into her tales of a world outside. You had not bothered to listen except to the forlorn sighs breaching over the static. But your steps mimicked the rhythm of which he'd spoken -hushed and bothered.

Ashley wore a blank facade. Her pink eyes sparked devilishly against the paleness of her skin. "Oh?" She gritted through thin lips.

You brushed frigid fingers through your hair, which remained a hot-knotted mess. Leyley reached over pillows for the remote, and with speed, she muted the sound, before filtering through the television stations as if anything would pop up. However, she knew there was nothing but the news which had shut off an hour prior.

Andrew sneered at his sister. "Or I can try talking to them? But-- No or I mean yes. But that doesn't--... No, I'm not angry. I'm just--"

Pause. More shoutings of female rage sputtered over the receiver.

"No, I--... Can you let me talk?" Andrew snorted.

A female voice shrilled from the phone, "--'ve time to think---... just can't do it anymore."

"What else is there to say …Sorry?" Andrew stiffened. He pinched at the furrow of his eyebrow. "Although I don't see why I should be held accountable for--"

beep -- beep -- beep… CLANK

Metal smashed against itself as Andrew deposited the rotary phone back into place. "Who was it?" Ashley spoke. Her fingers stroked the gem dangling from her inked black chocker wrapped in a death vice around her neck.

"My ex-girlfriend. Apparently."

You hopped down, bare heels meeting the ground.

"Oooo, she dumped you? Why is that?" Leyley twirled her words together into a song.

A silence bloomed between the siblings.

The back tag of Andrew's sweater was flipped up, reaching toward the nape of his hair. "Why do you think?" He breathed out low.

"H-how should I know? Maybe… because you're a parasite-infested homebody, that's apparently perma-quarantined?" Ashley brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin above it. "Or, it's because she found somebody new? It's been a few months, buddy. Or maybe she didn't like you much in the first place."

"…Whatever you say, Ashley." Andrew dragged his feet to the balcony. The door slammed shut on this argument.

Leyley swiveled her gaze to you. "I didn't even tell him the worst of it. I could've brought up the fact that he's fucking you."

You puffed out a soft laugh. "It's because you tell me to."

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

"NOOOO!!!" Ashley welled. She had kicked her feet into the air, flailing them about like weapons with no aim. Anything and everything was a target in her blind fury. "I don't want her sleeping in my room."

You huddled on the top step to the second floor, head buried into the flesh of your arm. Andrew hobbled past your form with your bookbag in tow. You glanced at the rabbit toy nodding off towards the door. Its arm flopped over his shoulder.

Mrs. Graves tore sheets out of the hallway closet with haste. She had bags under her eyes and her groans were exaggerated. "Ashley! Stop. I told you, when she stays the night, she'll be in your room."

"No faaaaair-" The little girl drawled. "Let her stay on the couch!!!"

"And let that child have an accident on it? No."

"So, she'll pee in my room!" Ashley's cheeks pooled red with heat.

"If she so has to," Mrs. Graves rolled her eyes. "But, I assume she's potty trained..." She waltzed towards her daughter, depositing the linens over top of her head.

Andrew wrangled Ashley from underneath the covers. Her arms spun like broken windmills -knocking her fists against his head. "That's not the point!!! I don't want her here."

Mrs. Graves flattened the blankets out on the ground. "It's not about what you want."

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

Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo! Sorry to have this come out so late!! Hope you all enjoy, part three should be out sooner. Next chapter will explore more of this "sleep over"

@aika-starlight @snackpaxk @jimmycest @moriwori

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Luka analysis/ramble below

Contains Round 7/Final spoilers

Ya know, Luka must be such an incredibly hollowed out man with enough trauma to incapacitate a different human. Like seriously, he's the perfect representation for anyone stuck under the obsessive spiral of perfectionism and repression.

He's in his early thirties, and his only attainable achievements are being covetable human flesh and doing so well at music that any potential friends or colleagues he could have will die in front of him if he takes the time to do the only thing he's allowed to focus on—sing. The girl he loves and could never talk with like a "normal kid" (but it didn't matter then because she accepted him as he was) has traumatic flashbacks just seeing him. The knowledge that her existence is so highly illegal that any achievements he has made will mean nothing if he is seen loving her... That's heavy. And that's partially on the assumption he's seen the news as it's hard to miss. (It's hard to tell with his expressions.) The moment he sees Hyuna in Round 7, the facade and mimicry is gone. All that's left is the hollow and lonely man.

How many times has he seen people he may have liked, disliked, been curious about, hated, shared memories with- how many have died or been beaten before his eyes? How many times has he supressed the screams inside of him because he's not allowed to. He's a puppet off of the stage, strictly controlled and having his fate already decided for him as long as he can probably remember.

"His eyes are lifeless." "He's so cruel." "He's just manipulative." Tell me you can't get a clue without telling me you can't get a clue. There are so many things wrong with this man, and you're going to obsess over the fact that a victim still stuck in abuse has done "inhumane" things on a planet and in a universe surrounded by creatures that teach that inhumanity is the most normal response to have to human emotions. Do you even know how the brain works when stuck in a situation where you're constantly just surviving? I'll tell you because I have firsthand knowledge. You do anything to stay alive. Anything. If brainwashed, you will hurt people you love if you think it will save them/keep them safe. And when it's all said and done, you then further crawl into the shell of yourself with hope that the emotional/mental bombs don't put enough shrapnel into your fragile, hiding self to ensure you really don't wake up this time. Because then hurting the other person would have been for nothing. Because then you'll have failed the one goal you have—survival. Trauma changes how a human brain is shaped and formed. (It's a scientific fact; go look it up if you think I'm pulling your leg.) I wonder if that, on top of the insinuated neurodivergence, is enough to make the already born outcast and alien-proclaimed prince (meaning: he's above the other humans AND nobody can touch him on his throne that only get higher each new death near him) be considered "surviving" instead of the "thriving" people seem to think of him as doing. I wonder how much he'll have to go through before he's "traumatized enough" or "injured enough" for the fandom to have a crumb of empathy (or even sympathy) for him.

Even if you have dulled feelings or no specific attachments to others—being the indirect cause of so many deaths, watching blood splatter the stage in a competition so fierce that the surviving participant(s?) develop medical problems overtime, knowing this is your very bread and water and shelter but the ones watching and clicking buttons to ensure your survival see this as an event for pure entertainment and no true depth, having to live with no attachments because either you'll never see the person again or you'll never see the person again—this fucks up a person. Isolation is the reason people take the fast way out of this world. Isolation is the reason why people go mad. Isolation makes you beg the very air surrounding your existence to end you. Yet simultaneously, you want to live so bad, and you just can't understand why humans are like this because all of you should want to be dead by now, even if the voices around you speak of how you're the greatest and most privileged.

The first time around must have been terrifying. How did Luka feel winning something like that, achieving all the praise and great treatment as his body and mouth metaphorically dripped with still-warm blood? Did he feel like he fought and died a million times over? Was he cursing or tiredly resigned because winning means he has to do it all over again if your master wishes and his master is greedy? Was he thinking of Hyuna-A? Was the win so hollow and full of traumatic moments that he tucked it down once more because even for someone detached and bullied by his peers the entire ordeal had been too much? Was he rationalizing it? Did he feel like a sick bastard for his hunger for control on stage? I wonder how much he disassociates off-screen. I wonder if he ever stopped his habit of putting his mouth on things for sensory stimulation or if he just hides it behind closed doors to be publically presentable. I wonder if he's ever acted out, gotten punished severely, and never acted out again. When did Hyun-A escape? How much did he know about it? The only love he's been taught is the faux love between owner and owned. He's obsessed with control because he has no control over his life and the stage is the only place he gets it. Is it really so shocking that he declared Hyun-A as "his" in the past and wishes she'd let herself be owned by him? This entire thing is so fucked up, and I still don't know enough about this man to be satisfied.

Luka has been stuck in this loop of being a product that exists for public consumption for at least ten years, so please excuse him if he's tired and working on instincts to live and desire for control turned to lifeless (yet pretending to be full of it) and brokenly presenting art of which he knows/thinks the muse of will never see.

[jayktoralldaylong]

There have been crossovers with Interview with the Vampire and Sinners, and those are always fun to see. I love ‘em. 🥰 Mary and Stack with Claudia, meeting Louis and Lestat and competing for sexiest biracial vampire couple. There’s also just the fun scenarios of how it would play out if these very different vampires interacted.

Like, how would Smoke and Louis relate to each other as the ‘big brothers that failed’. Would they judge each other harshly for making the same mistake in different ways? How would Mary and Claudia connect on not truly belonging, with Claudia frozen as a youth and Mary who could never blend in with the culture that raised her. Just all those fun little conversations.

And I see people try to fit Remmick in one way or another, sometimes pairing him with Lestat, which sounds like a match made in hell in a way that’s somehow worse than every other dynamic in IWTV. There is just no way that would ever work. 💀

But you know what? Nothing made sense like when someone mentioned Remmick and Armand.

Oooooooooh.

Remmick and Armand. Now that…is art. I want to see those two characters interact because I love how they sort of reflect each other in a both really clean and really ugly way.

Cause Remmick is a vampire who is hundreds of years old. He is ancient. So ancient that he has lost the people he grew up with, the language they used to speak, the songs they used to sing, the places they used to go. All of that has been erased by time. All of the time that he’s existed works against him and he is alienated from his culture because it has slowly disappeared, evolved and changed while he is stuck either standing still or sacrificing the parts of himself that matter so that he can better blend in with the Americans, and this makes him lose more and more of his core identity until there is more vampire than Irish man left.

And then on the contrast you have Armand….who was betrayed by his culture (going by the show, not the books). I mean, his parents dumped him first hand on that human trafficking ship. They did not look back. They dropped him and they ran and he was bundled away. Assuming he was sold to an Indian brothel house, he was still young when Marius came and picked him up and trained him to be his pet. Unlike Remmick, Armand is old but he is not too far removed from his culture. He knows the language, he knows the people, but he has no attachment to it because he was never allowed to truly be a part of it. 🥺 What he became instead was an extension of the will of Marius, and after Marius, he became the extension of whatever it was that people wanted him to be, what they needed him to be.

A puppet.

Remmick is going about physically, pleading his case from house to house, changing his accent, his way of speaking, his posture, his story, his words. He is becoming so many different people at once in the same way that Armand keeps switching masks depending on which role people require him to play, and they’re both conforming to achieve acceptance, yet at the end, that acceptance crumbles because they are both also dead-set on remaining in control. 💀

They think the control will protect them. Armand manipulating Louis, Remmick destroying Sammy’s family one by one instead of just ASKING him to play music. 💀 And all their need to maintain control does is destroy the thing that they are so badly trying to cling to.

Two hands reaching out, trying to hold on to someone, praying that someone will hold on to them. And people try. People try to comfort them because they are so pitiful and so alone. But their grip is vice tight and their claws dig in because they are scared of letting go of any kind of control, because they know how terribly it hurt when they did not have control (Armand as a sex slave and Remmick oppressed by colonialism), and yet they’re so stupid that they don’t truly realize that they’re doing that same thing to others. And that is exactly why they keep losing.

[eijakushingomel]

Early Encounter || CRK

••••

Guys I got another idea—

OK. OK. So remember, there are many fics and ideas that the Beasts could see what their Ancient Hero counterparts are doing through their Soul Jams? And then of Shadow Milk gotten into Pure Vanilla's head and slowly corrupted him?

OK. OK. But what if instead of SM corrupting PV, it is PV who does that?

No. Not the Swap AU (they're cool in their own way, btw) but like PV tries to influence SM to be good?

It's just another excuse for me (actually) to do another parent!Beast, because the basic concept is like this;

•For some reason, the Ancients got their Soul Jams at a very young age. PV got the Light of Truth when he was seven, after he managed to influence a group of rebellious children to be honest to their parents.

•After several days of PV trying to get used to this weird-blue-gemstone-that-appeared-out-of-nowhere, he met this weird-blue-jester who acted and is a menace.

•SM on the other hand, after a long thousand years trapped inside a tree with only the void and his cardboard puppets as his companies, felt a connection from the outside world. He learnt quickly it was from his other half, his Soul Jam that was ripped away from him.

• It had been deactivated for so long. To feel such familiar energy activate and pulsing in life means one thing — the Witches had chosen someone to wield half of his Light of Knowledge.

• Obviously pissed off, SM was so ready to meet this guy who got his power. It took him a while to properly connect to his Soul Jam and this... successor of his through mental link.

• He was so ready to mentally beat up the guy who got his Jam. But instead of seeing any old lad or gal (since he thought the Witches would choose someone with a keen understanding of knowledge and magic — an experience mage or scholar), he saw

Aaaand things went on afterwards.

•Of course, manipulating a child wasn't beneath him, so he tried to control PV. Maybe the kid could cause chaos on his behalf. So he tried to lie to the kid that he was a great scholar from a far away kingdom—

...buuuuut got brutally denied by the Light of Truth itself.

"Nah, don't trust this guy, kiddo. He's the reason why I got called as the Beast of Deceit."

"..."

Shadow Milk pointed at the floating gemstone. "You can speak???"

♧♧♧♧

So yeah. It's just the first part. But I really want to make this parent-child relationship between the Beasts and the Ancients.

SM tries to manipulate PV to commit crimes, but somehow, every time he tries, PV turns it into a therapy session. It's kinda funny when you see an old creature that already existed since the beginning of Earthbread receive emotional advice by a seven years old.

SM tries to scare PV away when he gets too annoying by shifting to something scary. But PV is like — aww, it's okay, Mr. Shadow Milk. My teachers told me that the ones who try to hurt people are the ones who are hurting themselves.

Then SM and the Light of Truth are concerned for PV's survival instinct.

So am I, now that I wrote this.

SM tries to tell lies to PV like the Deceit he is. The Light of Truth tries to refute him several times but stops when PV is able to discrediting the false by studying. PV doesn't take offence when SM tells lies about something. Instead, he takes it as an opportunity to study and earn more knowledge on the way. By using the deceit, he tries to gain knowledge to see the truth.

SM is peeved for the first time. But as time goes on and SM has nothing to do but literally stalking the kid, he finds some sort of entertainment in them.

It becomes a game. SM tells lies to test the kid, PV tries to encounter using facts and truth, and the Light of Truth as their referee.

SM is slowly getting attached to the kid without knowing. And seeing the young PV animatedly go on another rant about this new thing he learns, it bitterly reminds him of what he used to be. Back when the Fount of Knowledge was a title of divinity level and everything good. But young PV is also not like him. He's eager and honest. And unlike SM, who told lies because that was what the cookies wanted to hear, PV tells the truth no matter how harsh it is.

Of course, with PV's characteristics, he tries to be gentle with it. But the best medicine is always the bitter one, and for someone so young, PV seems to understand this concept.

Maybe that is why he is chosen by the Witches to be the new pillar of wisdom. To be the one who seeks knowledge (just like SM) and decipher lies (unlike SM).

PV is the same yet different. Maybe that is why the Witches see him as fit to be his successor.

And yadi yadi yada redemption cause I'm a sucker for this parent-child relationship.

There have to be loads of going on, and I can't say for sure if any Beasts fully redeem themselves at least until all Ancients reach adulthood. Maybe they just got softer for them?

Mystic Flour, after getting to know Dark Cacao, still sees apathy as the only salvation for the world. But for him, she tries to hold back from Thanos snap everyone just so he could prove her with his so-called resolution.

Eternal Sugar sees no worth in happiness. But Hollyberry shows her that perhaps there is something that is worth being passionate about.

Burning Spice is still thirsting for destruction and havoc, yet sees amusement in Golden Cheese's greed.

As for Silent Salt, well, silence was his main choice. But perhaps, a little freedom isn't as troublesome as he thinks.

I know I'm making this for fun, but to change some dudes and dudettes who literally ruined cookiekind doesn't seem like something that could be done in a couple of years. So, at the very least (and probably the most), the Beasts still think their choices (apathy, deceit, etc) are the better choices. But they will acknowledge that perhaps there are other choices as well.

A story of where the Beasts learn to see other paths (and be reminded of who they used to be) while also raising future heroes.

I can just imagine Burning Spice tries to give Golden Cheese fighting advice while she is battling some Monster Cakes.

"No, Cheese! You gotta pull your arm back— lower! LOWER!"

"OH MY WITCHES, SHUT UP!"

"Watch out for the sneak attack on the back— URGH! Why did you born with two arms only?!"

"AHH—"

And Mystic Flour occasionally tells Dark Cacao to give up.

"Just give up."

"..."

"That cat won't let you pet it just give up."

So yeah. Then PV and White Lily meet at the Blueberry Yoghurt Academy, and they both find out their Soul Jams kinda related to one another.

"So you got also got a random cookie inhibited your mind?" With only PV who could see SM, he could feel the blue Beast lightly hit him on the head.

Through WL's wine eyes, she sees SS standing behind PV with dark aura looms all over the black Beast. A normal side to see. It means SS is genuinely curious about PV.

"Yeah, pretty much."

[monsterritory]

You made me an enjoyed of the idea of clingy c!Dream.

I blame you for this /pos

(Gooood. Spread the bowspam propaganda farther)

Clingy? Oh, no, that's not clingy.

That's Possessive Dream. Tommy is His Puppet with which he can do whatever he pleases, anytime he pleases. And if he wanted to, he would ~ Totally ~ drop Tommy and get himself a different puppet... he just doesn't wanna. [visualize Dream crossing his hands with an annoyed huff]

Cause Tommy is a pretty good puppet and he's already here and Dream already sunk so much time and effort into corrupting this one, do you know how tedious it would be to start over with a fresh victim?

So Dream will keep Tommy, but just so you know, he's Totally Not Attached To Him.

Attachment is something that could be used against him after all... He needs to be safer than that. Can't have that happen again.

(Deep down Dream also just has a very poor idea of what love is supposed to look like and he's afraid of doing things Wrong and Not Deserving Of Being Loved Back. But he found this loophole: He can't be "Not Loved Back" if he never labels what they have as Love to begin with. He doesn't need Tommy's opinion or word or consent. He just needs wants Tommy.)

Meanwhile, Tommy doesn't think much about his feelings in this. Just because he doesn't think much in general.

He'll act bratty and uninterested and push Dream away. But if Dream were to leave, Tommy... wouldn't feel relieved.

Deep inside he's terrified of the idea of Dream loosing interest in him. (Much like he did in canon). He doesn't have a strong support system. Even his best friend kinda moved on to Boring Things like Being Married and Raising A Child.

Dream's attention isn't ideal, but it's the only one Tommy gets.

If he's not loved by Dream... is he even lovable at all? Dream is Bad and Evil and Everything Dark And Twisted Ever, and if even That Monster didn't want Tommy around, would that mean...

...that Tommy's just not good enough for anyone?

They exist in a fucked up balance.

Chase and Run, Push and Pull, Yin and Yang, forever circling each other. For if they stopped, there'd be nothing moving them forward. Planets don't stop circling Stars, neither will they.

[iyamaggies-blog]

Paralysis

Some Sasori smut yall! I still haven’t finished shippuden but I’m much closer! I started writing this when I first started shippuden and just finished it now so sorry if it starts off stronger than it ends 😅

“You look pathetic.” Sasori sneered as he looked down at the woman before him. Your eyes met his, shimmering with defiance and unkept anticipation despite your vulnerable position. Kneeling on the floor in front of him you wear nothing but his akatsuki cloak open to reveal your naked front to him. “It’s beautiful.” He murmurs opening up the chamber on his abdomen and allowing the thick cable cord and stinger to slither out

“You think I’m beauti-ful?” You taunt, voice catching at the sensation of his cool metal stinger dragging against your wet cunt followed by thick taut cable.

“I think you’re mouthy.” He retorts as he continues to drag the thick cord between your sensitive folds. The cord begins coiling around your body applying firm pressure while coiling up your torso, trapping your arms, and inching up to gently constrict your neck until that impressive venomous stinger lingers outside your lips expectantly.

“Open” he commands. You hesitate, keeping your lips closed and attempting to tilt your head away slightly only to feel the pressure around your neck and torso tighten. Like prey caught by a deadly constrictor. “You don’t want to keep me waiting.” He reminds you. Sasori was infamous for his impatience…… You open your mouth and that formidable stinger pushes past your lips to press down on your tounge. Your panicked eyes dart up to his when sour liquid pours out of its tip, overflowing your mouth and dripping down your chin. “It won’t kill you.” He clarifies.

“Although this is exactly how I’d pose your

puppet. Capturing your filthy desperation forever.” He smirks. You begin to grind down on the coil between your legs desperately seeking frictions until he suddenly retracts his cord completely. The shock of the sudden loss has you tumbling on to your back, body suddenly feeling heavy. “Sasori…what’s..?” You attempt to question, but your words are clumsy and slurred.

“A special poison I made just for occasions like this. I don’t want your squirming to interfere with my work.” Smirking he kicks your legs further open and peers down from directly above you. He wastes little time attaching sturdy strings of chakra to your arms puppeteering your hands slowly down your chest to pull and tug at your own nipples. The progressively rougher attention causes you to gasp and pant. “Hush.” He manipulates a hand back to your face shoving your own fingers in your mouth to silence you while your other slides down your body to your pussy “let’s have a look at you.” He mumurs. His expert puppeteering has you spreading the lips of your sex, legs wide and knees bent, fully displaying yourself for him. The position is vulnerable and humiliating in a way that makes your whole body spark with arousal. His stare is lidded and unwavering while he towers over you in a heavy but comfortable silence. Laying there unable to move your limbs you bask in his undived attention. Sasori always had a way of making you feel special. Particular, picky and precise he is quick to change or adjust any preceived defects or flaws, but right now in this drawn out moment he stands there unmoving looking at you in pure adoration. A small

smile tugs his features before he briefly abandons you. Stepping over you and out of your range of vision. You can hear rustling at his workbench before his footsteps

return. Chakra strings removed, but unable to fight off the poison’s paralysis, your body remains frozen just how he left you. He now stands at your shoulders, directly above you. Gaze towards the ceiling you make eye contact with the lenses of a camera as he begins snapping photos. After one or two clicks of the camera he walks back around to stand between your thighs. A couple more photos before he kneels down and begins adjusting you. He pulls your now drool soaked fingers out of your mouth, a trail of spit follows coating the outside of your mouth as he lays your hand gently beside your head. he snaps another photo, a portrait of your face, before gently wiping your lips clean with his fingers. He leans in and gives you a chaste kiss but remains hovering above you while his fingers gently caress your jaw line. The two of you stay like that for a moment, his mouth inches from yours when he whispers “You’re so beautiful like this…”

He pulls away to shift his attentions downwards. Sitting between your thighs he gently sets the camera down. Pulling a small bottle of lube from his pocket he generously pours the contents over your spread cunt. Not that you need it with how drenched you feel. You hiss at how cold it feels against your flushed skin.

His fingers spread the lube around the outside of your cunt before pushing the tips of his two fingers just past your entrance. He slides his fingers in and out of you just up to his second knuckle, the pleasure

Is instant and electrifying but you want more you need more! Your body still feels heavy but you manage the slightest buck of your hips making him chuckle. He continues his teasing ministrations as he speaks. “Desperate thing aren’t you? Your body stricken with paralysis but you still find the strength to beg for my touch.” He plunges his fingers deep inside of you in slow calculated thrusts his other hand lays on top yours as you keep yourself spread and he uses his thumb to play with your clit. You cry out at the onslaught of pleasure but his eyes stay glued to his work. His thumb draws quick tight circles over you clit while each purposeful stroke of his fingers brushes against that sweet spot inside of you. All you can do is lay there and mewl while Sasoris expert fingers push you closer and closer to ecstasy. Sasori was generous with your pleasure. As a man who valued efficiency he reveled in how quickly and thoroughly he could break you. You cry loudly as your orgasm hits you. Sasori doesn’t give you a moment before he’s moving you again, knocking your hand away from your spread sex and sliding your one leg onto his shoulder as he leans forward to hover over you. Both of your arms lay limp beside your head as you gasp and whimper from the excitement. “Be quiet your disturbing my work!” He barks at you with a harsh smack to your thigh.

You hear a wet squelch when his fingers reenter you. His pace is much faster this time. Truly bullying you onto the edge of another fast approaching release.

You wail and squirm around his fingers when your pleasure finally peaks. Your movement weak and subdued as you soak his hand. He repositions you much gentler this time turning you to lay face down on the ground and lifting your lower half to stand propped on your knees. He tosses the end of the cloak over your hips to keep you exposed and lingers behind you for just a moment. Softly stroking your skin he gently spreads your ass cheeks apart to examine the mess he’s made of you before standing. It’s hard to see what he’s doing with the way your face is pressed against the floor but then you hear the familiar sound of his camera

Click

“Moments like this will be different when I finally get to turn you. Your puppet body won’t be as sensitive. But we can always look back at these together”

Click

“the perfect image of this intament moment forever.”

Click

“Everlasting beauty.”

[a-shadow-thinker]

I think there was a misunderstanding on some point.

First of all, the fact that the Mind Flayer is ultimately the big bad of ST doesn't in any way take away the human dimension of the story, on the contrary it strengthens it and brings a more original dimension.

It reinforces it in the sense that if you look at things with more finesse in a second reading plan, the Mind Flayer embodies through its actions on the human characters, a personified projection of the fears, of the psychological suffering which lies dormant in our unconscious.

He's the pivot point which will bring the human characters who are impacted by his actions, to express this human aspect, this human aspect laid bare which will face its trials by showing all its beauty just like all its horror.

He's a spotlight that will highlight humans, show their abilities to demonstrate bravery, strength, to grow, to show compassion from our heroes.

There is nothing problematic for the Mind Flayer about being the big bad in a human story, it's through the emotions of your human characters, their story, how you appeal to the public through them you will tell this human story.

It doesn't pass through its antagonism, but through its characters who live this adventure, with whom the audience identifies and feels this humanity in them which echoes theirs.

You tell a human story through the emotions that your human characters make you feel, through their trials and how they will react and come out of these trials, how it will impact them and finaly you, the public, what you feel inside in echo of your own humanity.

For Henry, yes he can be completely forced to do these things by the Mind Flayer.

As you can see in ST VR, the Mind Flayer distorts Henry's psychic reality.

Others have previously carried out relevant analyzes on this subject.

Which leads to something very insidious, a distortion of reality for Henry, in what he feels and experiences, what he wants, leading him to think he is in control

(to be able to better control him, what a perfect puppet is the one who is unaware that she is being controlled, no risk of resistance and rebellion),

making him believe that what he is doing is right, leading him into dead ends where he has no choice.

I use this example often, but it’s the one that sticks so well.

See Kylo Ren, Palpatine whispers, torments him since he was in his mother's womb ! All his life he has had dark thoughts, that he is a horrible person, that he hurts others, that no one likes him, etc...

At the beginning the character rejects his ideas, refuses to believe in them and attaches himself to the light.

But events caused by Palpatine will force him to believe his dark ideas, events which will isolate him and lead him to think that he can only be a bad person and that his place is in darkness.

You have a very similar pattern with Henry, his dark thoughts were perhaps already latent, but the Mind Flayer blew on him, blew on the embers intentionally to force him to do what he wants, to make him vulnerable too to his manipulations and make him think these horrible things.

The Mind Flayer clearly exhibits predatory behavior.

I am convinced that season 5 will show us since we will explore Henry's memories in the 80s, Henry's suffering for the loss, his sister in particular (someone pointed out that Holly's kidnapping was due to fact that he has not mourned, that he is in this delirium of taking her for his sister), that he never wanted that and that all of this is the work of the Mind Flayer who used this instability/weakness to manipulate him as he pleases.

In the scene where Henry scares his mother with the spiders you clearly see young Alice's foresight about this "you're not Henry".

that too, from a human point of view, is strong and resonates with many people.

Depression, autism, loneliness, abusive grooming, the dark side of the human spirit, etc...

It's in exaggerated form in the fictional framework of the show, but we clearly have these human aspects highlighted.

This goes back to what i was saying above, don't just see the Mind Flayer as "a monster/supernatural creature" but as a metaphor for the dark iceberg of the human psyche.

And that’s understandable.

It honestly has a lot more personality than a basic human, especially in a fantasy series !

I also think we have 2 plots to distinguish :

You actually have the human with all the political/military intrigue with the Russians in particular, but you also have the "magic" intrigue, the quest of the hero from the famous initiatory tale on El's side (with Will probably also in the S5 in view of what is teased about the character)

And with the DnD inspiration and many things relating to adventure in the show, to fantasy, you clearly have the hero's initiatory journey in addition to the human dimension.

But both complement each other anyway...

After all, isn't a hero defined by his human values ?

[rileyav]

OF COURSE I'M FUCKING CURIOUS PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME

ok!!! so!!!

i am assuming you have read her backstory

holy shit this is gonna be long.

there's a couple fun things about her that i actually did not decide!!! the DM has a lot of influence over a lot of the specifics in her backstory and even i don't know the full details which is why some of it is vague.

one of those things is that she literally glows when she's happy or has heightened emotions, and when she has incredibly negative emotions it causes lightning storms

because of this detail i decided to give her freckles that show up when she blushes

Xander also has them (: the bigger freckles make up the Gemini constellation! kinda

so basically she is obviously a character in a tabletop so she has stats. there's fighting, power, evasion, weapon, mind, body. she is a mind+power build! also keep in mind i know literally fucking nothing about tabletop shit. the first two times i did any tabletop shit was not only over 10 years ago but i also played call of cthulhu which apparently is "cock and ball torture" according to people i've talked to about this which is probably why i did not have as much fun as i should have with tabletop and did not pursue it much further LMFAO

the first ability i leveled up for her were her Gemini Psionics which is control over electricity & telekinesis. her hobbies and interests are not included in her backstory, but basically, she considers herself an entertainer. think like... spiritually a bard, i guess? but as a hobby rather than for combat. singing, dancing, lightshow using her electricity powers. kinda like this:

so since Xandra did not start the game in her OWN hive i didn't actually make her a room to showcase her personality LMFAO but uhhh i am working on it now! but it's not done. but here's a snippet of a corner that is finished:

Xandra is all about connections with other people. all of the friends on her little wall there are people she has literal threads of fate attached to. she is also, for some reason, inherently connected to the stars and to fate! i don't really know why yet though.

she also has a motif with marionettes/puppets/puppet strings. another theme with her is control and choice. she advocates for people to be able to make their own decisions, their own choices, while simultaneously it seems like she is a force that takes other people's choice/autonomy away from them? i'm not quite sure about the details yet

currentlyyy unfortunately she has madness lvl 2 with marionette syndrome, which makes her feel like her choices aren't really hers. not sure how to get rid of that yet

she's (obviously) a Gemini/Goldblood so some other traits about her are feeling several things at once (even if conflicting), feeling things to an EXTREME, duality, multiplicity, etc etc you get the idea. she has an inferiority/superiority complex, and doesn't know if she's a good or bad person.

she also really likes drinking.

in terms of personality, she is (or tries to be) incredibly formal, but loosens up after getting comfortable with someone. she is typically poised and graceful (mechanically) but very reactive.

this is the abandoned jadeblood room she stays in! before the game starts and before she receives the disc, she hears voices coming from the tvs in the walls. one of them is actually an alternate universe/"worldline" and explains that she's in his house, but in a universe where he just... isn't there anymore for some reason. it's actually two voices and one of them she gets along with and the other she ends up... not getting along with very well. at the end of the conversation they give her some ominous advice to "break her own heart"... and uh. damn it. MAN. you'll see

so the beginning of the game. basicallyyyyy the ideaaaaa is that she joins with people she doesn't know. the game just takes a bunch of strangers and puts them together. so a random indigoblood starts talking to her (she does not like highbloods very much) and dropping a bunch of bullshit in her really small room and telling her shit so she's just really annoyed right off the bat.

her cruxite artifact was a golden heart given to her by a glowing golden goddess!

so clearly uhhh!!! she fucking spikes it on the ground LMFAOOOOOOOOOO because she was told to idk

honestly i'm looking back and fuck dude. the cruxite artifact basically determines the tone for your game and i'm like . shit dude. something bad is gonna happen because of this being what i decided to fucking do. god damn it. anyway that will probably bite me in the fuckin ass later, whatever.

she also gets a vision from Lil' Xandra of herself, on her knees sobbing and crying during a lightning storm, which is something that is 100% GOING TO HAPPEN, I THINK? I'M NOT SURE THOUGH?

anyway

this is her planet, Land of Luck and Charms.

so many things happen here. it is the most poppin' planet in the session. everyone loves being here!

her denizen is Fortuna!

i need to draw another pic of her but here's a doodle of her general aura. she is so fucking cool and awesome and she LOVES XANDRA AND XANDRA LOVES HER. Fortuna is Xandra's goddess, she gives her good dreams, they have a great relationship

and below is Zeusephesprite!!! made from Xandra shocking her kernelsprite and then throwing one of her crystals at it because she didn't know wtf it was

the DM gave each of her crystals a greek god associated with it and so ZEUSEPHESPRITE WAS BORN! unfortunately Xandra didn't meet her for a while in her game and when she did Zeusephesprite nearly fucking annihilated Erron because he opened the door to her hive first

Zeusephesprite is super protective of Xandra and DOES NOT LIKE ANY OF THE MEN SHE BRINGS AROUND.

EXCEPT XANDER.

she likes Xander.

anyway Lil' Xandra

she is basically a little puppet who is alive and has organs and can give visions of what will happen in the future at the cost of not being able to undo what will happen. if Xandra is sad, Lil' Xandra is super sad. if Xandra is mad, Lil' Xandra is SUPER mad. you get the gist

i could go on about so much but honestly i'll leave it here for now

if you wanna know about her relationships lmk

i could also tell about how her and Xander met

i also have some stories written about her and some dreams she's had

there's so much LOL

[nynyhaha]

Machi and Shizuku — How to treat human remains

Both of the beautiful Spider members cause death with their abilities,increasing the number of corpses.But what do they do with them afterwards?

Despite being in the same organisation and doing crimes together their approach to corpses is very different.

I’d even call them polar opposites.

Machi is known for killing and healing people with her threads,but what matters here is her skill on restoring dead people to look better.

It’s made clear that she came to master nen Threads in that exact context.Kinda tragic,actually. We don’t see her trying to restore anyone to their original beauty so it’s unknown to what extent she knows Renkos craft,but since she wanted to learn it we can assume she knows quite a lot about it.

A personal headcanon of mine is that she took it upon herself to arrange the flowers for Paku’s “grave”

Look how sad it is :((

Meanwhile Shizuku,well…cleans up.

Being sucked into a vacuum like dust just to disappear in its void seems like a bad way for your body to end.I mean,what is a corpse really worth?

Is it not a puppet?🖊📖🕷

But if corpses were just puppets there wouldn’t be people like Machi and Renko.

If Machi had no emotions towards Hisokas corpse she’d just dispose of it or call Shizuku.But she fixed it up.

Because people care about the dead,their bodies and their wishes.

Treating corpses as humans allows one to spend a bit more time with them,to keep them alive a bit longer in their mind.

The importance of human remains being buried properly is also why Kurapika is so relentlessly searching for the eyes of his kin.

It’s why we can judge Chrollo’s moral state by his treatment of corpses and see that there’s clearly something seriously wrong with the way he sees people.Which isn’t just a Chrollo issue(Check out my Neon Nostrade post)but a broader problem in the HxH world.

Machi and Chrollo started out in the same place.

Horrified at how their friend has been dehumanised along with other kids of Meteor City,they vowed to take revenge and reverse this trend.Now they themselves kill people without batting an eye.

What started out as “we are humans so see us as such,even in death we have dignity”

turned into “human corpses are just like puppets and we can use them in any way that fits us.”

Surely,Pakunodas body and even Hisokas are very different than those of dead mafia men.That’s just how it is with close people.

So..what is it? a) human remains are to be respected

b)corpses are just empty shells,they’re inanimate objects so they don’t matter

c)corpses might have meaning and personhood attached to them but we will only honour that with those we care about/those who deserve it

It must be a mix of b and c by now.Hypocrisy is a big theme of HxH.But in the general view of the Spiders, Machi included,human lives rarely matter and their dead remains are even less important.

Young Machi might’ve been horrified by Shizukus ability,I mean,imagine Sarasa’s kidnappers “cleaning up” her body in such a manner.

But now Shizuku and Blinky are very useful to the troupe and everyone appreciates them.

Shizuku is a troupe member that’s rather unsettling to me because of her innocence and young age(19).She’s calm and we don’t see cruelty or bloodthirst in her.Even out of the women in the troupe she seems the least threatening.Yet her ability is very bleak and shows acceptance and indifference when it comes to horrible things.

She takes Chrollo’s orders seriously even if that means letting him die.She’s one of the people that appear normal and could live a normal life. Or so it seems.We know nothing about her past but she must’ve had a reason to join the troupe.She no less passionate about it than Machi.

Oh,if only we knew how and why she developed her ability!

I don’t think that would be a happy story tho,haha.She even reminds me of Chrollo a bit,that mix of apathy and pleasant calm demeanour just has something to it.

Machi seems to have a bit more “rage/fire” in her.She’s closer to seeing corpses as people even now.But despite the differences,the Spiders get along.

So it really depends if your corpse will be patched up by Machi or deleted by Shizuku.