#good for my slowly deteriorating mental state

[mogpomparadox]

I think blocking people liberally is good for your online experience actually.

[itsruki]

To feel something

Dom!Kanto!Mikey x Sub!Virgin!Reader

MDNI! MINORS DO NOT READ!

Masterlist:

a/n: well what am i supposed to say. it happened again. i will say that it needed 3 drafts to even come up with a halfway decent plot and I AM STILL NOT SUPER HAPPY WITH IT. i might write a few more about Mikey with my other drafts. anyways. hope you like it.

Synopsis: Mikey sees a girl at the club who looks completely out of place. Because of his deteriorating mental state, he wasn't really feeling much of anything, but since when he looked at her, he felt something, he decided that he wanted to chase that feeling.

Trigger warnings: afab-reader, dub-con, mentions of unprotected sex, fingering, Oral F, mating press, petnames: Peach, Sugar, Gorgeous, little girl, good girl, baby, princess

word count: 3530

He was at the club. It was already fairly late, and his executives were already fairly drunk. He himself was still relatively sober. He never really liked parties or clubs, but it helped to numb his brain. Mikey's cold eyes were looking down on the dance floor from the elevated balcony of the VIP area. He sighed. He felt nothing. It was all just emptiness. His dark, cold eyes just kept on staring into the large mass of people, dancing and dancing. That's when he spots you. You seem out of place. You were wearing a dress. Furthermore, you look like someone else picked out the dress and forced you into it...it's almost...endearing. He blinked…..he felt something…...his breath quickened…..he wanted you….he needed you….he needed to chase that feeling in his chest. He swiftly walked past his subordinates and the crowd on the dance Floor before he reached you. You were sitting at the bar, with your glasses on your nose, and a look of utter horror. He sat down in the chair next to you. You glanced over at him a few times. You looked so young. "You want a drink?" he asked. You almost squealed when he talked to you. "Uhm, I don't really drink….." You stare at the counter. Your cheeks are turning slightly pink. Mikey looked you up and down, his eyes empty and his face expressionless. He ordered himself another drink and began to lazily drink from it. 

"You aren't from here, correct?" The question caught you off guard. You slowly nodded. "W-what makes you think that?" you replied shyly. You placed a streak of hair behind your ear and began to fidget with your hands. "You don't look like a club person. Very out of place." he responded. His eyes were still fixated on his drink as he kept on drinking from it. You sighed. He was right. You came to this stupid club for your best friend, and now look at you. They left you for some random person, and you were now stuck here.

"Yeah" was all you could say. He gave you a hmm as he kept drinking.

Out of nowhere, he leaned over to you. He went right into your personal space. Your cheeks flushed pink as you stared into his expressionless face. "You wanna get out of here?" was what he asked. It felt like your brain had just shut down. Your eyes went over the features of his face. He was beautiful. The blond locks, the lips, and those eyes that make you feel like he is going to just devour you, like a wild Predator. Those eyes that make you feel like you will get sucked into eternal nothingness. "Yes" you responded without realizing it. He offered you a hand, and you both left the club. He brought you to his motorbike and gave you a questioning look. "Where to?" he asked. You gave it some thought. If you went to his place, you would have to be worried about being taken advantage of. If you go to your place, your roommates might get the wrong idea. You looked at him. You asked yourself why you were there with him in the first place but when you saw his eyes again, you forgot that thought again right away. "My place?" he asked and you were so in a trance that you just nodded. While you were on the road, it seemed to sink. This was where this was going. Your face burned red and you pressed your face against his back as you mustered up the courage to talk "Uhm... I never…..never done this before…." you stammered. "Huh? What? Biking?" he asked. If you didn't know better, you would almost think he was mocking you but his voice remained monotone "N-no. I mean…..going home….with a man and…." he smirked as he observed your expression in his mirror "oh…..is that so?....." that's when he realized. You are untouched. You, a little Virgin, right there on a silver platter for him to ruin.

He remained silent for the rest of the ride until he stopped in front of a house. 

On the side of the house is a small shack that he walked up to, and even though you were very intimidated, you followed him. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. You followed him and saw a normal room. There was a closet, a bed, a table and cushions to sit on. "Sit down wherever you want. I don't really care." he said, then sat on his bed and looked at you. His eyes were still cold, but there was a small smirk on his lips that made you blush.

"T-thank you." you said, bowed down a little, and then sat down on one of the cushions on the ground. You basically kneel in front of him since you sit on your calves.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, his eyes piercing right through you. You stuttered as you told him your name. "You can call me Mikey, Peach." your cheek flushed into a darker pink shade. He called you Peach. "How old are you, Peach?" he leaned back against the wall at his bed. "18…" you answered, and he hummed in response. You both stared at each other for a moment before you decided to say something, but you were interrupted when his phone began to ring. He sighed in annoyance when he rose from the bed and took the phone in his hand. "I will be back in a moment, Sugar." before walking out and closing the door behind him. 

Now you remained behind in the bedroom of a man you just met. You knew what was expected of this situation, and you were still contemplating if that was what you wanted to do, and while your consciousness told you no, your body didn’t want to obey. "Mikey…" you whispered his name. You wanted to feel it roll off your tongue. Something about this man was intoxicating. You weren't able to quite pinpoint what it was, but you knew that it wasn't good. It felt bad, but in the best way possible. It felt like he would grab you and drag you right into his nightmare. Your thoughts trailed away from you. You thought of your friend in the club for a moment and what she would think if she knew where you went and with whom. You thought about your parents, who only said yes because they trusted your friend, and you thought about all the work you put into being a responsible and good person. It felt like this man was the complete opposite of you. As if, while you tried your hardest to be good….he seemed like he never did. He was just himself...and maybe that was what you were craving. That freedom, that risk...

You snapped back when the door opened again, and he came back inside. On his forehead, you saw a vein poking out, which made it obvious that whatever he had to handle over the phone, was not to his liking. You can't help but be worried. "Is everything okay?" you asked politely and he looked at you with an unreadable expression…..suprise, maybe confusion? Regardless, it went back to the tiny smirk right away "Nothing you have to worry that pretty little head of yours for, sugar" that made you flush again. "U-uhm okay…. I'm sorry for prying" he chuckled and shook his head. That chuckle hit you in a way that you didn't expect. It made your blush turn darker and caused a weird, warm sensation in your abdomen. Your breathing quickens, and you had to avert your eyes. That chuckle….it was….menacing. It was charming, dark and had the feel of a villain in a story. The villain that would kidnap the princess and torture her until the end of eternity…...and you loved it with every fiber of your being.

"What's wrong, sugar? Am I making you nervous?" His smirk grew, and you knew he was mocking you. You repositioned your glasses in a feeble attempt to keep your composure. You pulled down your skirt a little. Even when you weren't looking at him, you knew his eyes were looking right at you, and that made that warm feeling in your core just grow hotter and hotter. It was almost unbearable. You almost felt dizzy as you looked back up at him. He walked back over to his bed and dropped himself on it. He leaned against the wall again and then petted the bed next to him for you to sit with him. You stood up with shaky legs as you felt something warm run down your leg, and for a moment you thought you peed yourself, but this was a different feeling. He saw everything, and his eyes grew even darker and his smirk even wider. He held out his hand for you to grab onto, and once you took it….it was over. You were stuck. Fallen under his spell. This dark lord...this sorcerer had you all wrapped up. He pulled you into his lap so that you sat in front of him, your back against his chest. Your brain is all fuzzed up. "You are such a tease, sugar. All about you responds to me as if I'm all that's on your mind~" he whispers into your ear. You felt his breath against your ear. He pressed his nose into the coo of your neck. Your breath is only coming out in shallow and quick huffs. His hand wandered to your thigh. "You would probably not stop me, regardless of what I do to you, right, sugar?" You felt like a doll in his hands. He was right. There was no fighting back. Every time he touched your skin, it felt like he left behind a burning sensation. You gave out a small whimper. "I can smell how wet your are already~ didn't even have to touch you yet~" his fingers ran up your thigh until they reached under your skirt. Your cheeks turn darker. "Cat got your tongue? That's okay~ that's how I like them the most. Obedient and quiet until asked to speak~" you whined as he draws circles around your inner thigh. "I'm so mean for teasing you, huh? You want me to finally do it? Touch you?..... I feel like no one ever touched you like this, huh, sugar? I can't wait to ruin you~" His fingers reached your covered pussy, and you threw your head back on his shoulder and closed your eyes. This was new. It was new, and it felt so wrong and taboo. He was drawing lazy circles over your covered bundle of nerves, and all you could do was lay there in his arms, at his mercy, moaning and whining for that sensation. 

"Fuck, sugar, you're already drenched, and I barely even did anything to you~. makes me want to eat you out so badly. I will devour you, little girl~" he grabbed onto your Panties and pulled them off your legs before holding them in his hand and pressing them in your face for a moment. "Here, can you smell that? It's all you and how much you crave me~ take a deep wiff for me, princess~" then he throws it on the ground. His hand found its way back between your legs, in your skirt, and began to rub up and down your folds, spreading the slick of your juices. Your brain left the building ages ago. Your body is only acting on instinct. His other hand kept your body upright against his chest. He chuckled when he slowly pushed his middle finger inside your tight hole, which caused you to moan out loud and squint your eyes shut. "Keep those pretty eyes open, baby... I want to see them…..fuck...you're so tight...I only put one finger in, and you already clenched around it and barely let me move~"  he began to pump his finger in and out while rubbing your tiny clit with his thumb. You slowly opened your eyes and tilted your head to look into his eyes as he kept fingering you. "Don't forget to breathe, sugar. I wouldn't want you to pass out before we reach the main course." All you could do was nod at him. When he slid the second finger in, your hand found its way to his arm, and your fingers dug into his skin. You felt the veins on his arm and his muscles. It didn't even bother him that you held on to him like that. He began to lick your neck before giving you a firm bit on it. You whimper and whine as he kept pumping into you. You felt a knot bundle up in your abdomen, "ahh, ahh- I'm….I'm gonna-" he interrupted you. "Let it happen, sugar. Do it." and with that, you shouted as you released all over his fingers.

Your vision turned blurry, and your breathing was out of control. He pulled his fingers out of you, which caused you to whine. You saw how he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean of your juices. It made you moan. He then gripped the back of your neck and forced a kiss on your lips. It was fiery, hungry and desperate. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he dominated the kiss with his experience and power. When he let go of you, a line of drool connected your lips. "It's time for me to eat, sugar~. I have a sweet tooth, and you are just the dessert that I want to feast on~" he grabbed onto you and placed you on the bed. He grabbed onto the zipper of the dress and slid the dress over your body. Leaving you with nothing but your bra. "Let's get that off too~" and with that, your bra found the ground as well. He spread your legs and pressed them against your chest to open you wide for him. "Fuck….and nobody ever got to see this before? Fucking shame….but I guess it's good~. This pretty pussy, gonna be all mine~" You were still too delirious to even realize what was happening until he gave you a long and drawn out lick from the bottom of your folds to the top, until he found your clit. He gave it some firm licks before wrapping his lips around it and sucking on it hungrily. Your hands found his hair and pushed him deeper as you moaned and shouted his name. "So fucking delicious~ I could die eating you out. Fuck…" you saw him palming his election through the fabric of his pants and groaning against your cunt, which runs shivers down your spine. "Keep those pretty eyes open, gorgeous. I want to see you cum in my mouth." His tongue invaded your hole, and you felt the feeling in your lower body build up again. Your grip on his hair grew tighter, and he noticed that you were close, so he used even more force behind his tongue. One of his hands began to rub your clit while he licked your hole. There was no holding back anymore as your legs started to shake uncontrollably as you shouted his name and cum all over his face. He straightened his back and sat up. He licked his lips, but all your juices were still running down his jaw and chin.

He pulled down his pants, just enough to reveal his large manhood. His cock was huge. It was huge and girthy, with a pink tip that was oozing out so much precum. It was intimidating and he could see your brain work through your eyes. He gave your pussy a firm slap, which made you whine out. He leaned back down to capture your lips In a kiss before wrapping his hand around your neck. You felt his hips rub against your abdomen. There was no stopping him. "Fuck. I wanna go easy on you but there is no way I can hold back, sugar~" and with that, he held your legs back against your chest. You could feel his tip rubbing against your lips. You couldn't hold back the moans at all. Your eyes were tear struck from all the overstimulation. "Can't….to much~" was all you could bring out bit you saw in his eyes that there was no stopping him. Your glasses start to fog up a little through all the heat in the room. He took off his shirt and threw it across the room. "I hope you are ready, sugar, because I can't wait anymore" and while you were still startled over how quick everything just went he pushed it in, in one motion. A sharp pain pierced through your body and made you scream out. Tears ran down your cheeks as you cried in pain "Out! Pull out! Please stop!" you sobbed and begged but he didn't stop pistoning his hips back and forth. Instead of stopping, he leaned further over you and placed his hand over your mouth. His face finds the coo of your neck as he breathed heavily before speaking "shhhh! It's gonna be feeling good, sugar~ just bare with me, babygirl. Fuck….I can't stop….fuck fuck…" he kept on thrusting into you "it feels so fucking good, sugar~. You might say no but your pussy keeps sucking me in~" He gave your ass a sharp smack, which made you cry more and more. After a while, the pain slowly replaced itself with ecstacy and pleasure. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders before he finally let go of your mouth. No more screaming but moaning left your mouth. He locked his arms under your knees and angered your hips in a way that he hit even deeper than before. Your mind completely blanked off. He took off your glasses and put them aside as he kept thrusting into you. You swear, you could feel him in the back of your throat from how deep he was. He bullied your cervix with every pump of his hips. The knot in your stomach is building up again and you moans grow more and more erratic. A white ring was built around the base of his cock. He kissed and bite your neck, giving you hickies. "Do it, sugar. Cream all over me~" again that chuckle. You lost it and came all over his cock. 

He didn't stop. He continuously kept fucking into you. "Fuck, I'm close, sugar~ you will let me cum inside? Right? Fuck, I know you will be a good girl~" 

After a few more thrusts, he shot his cum deep inside of you but kept on moving to push it extra deep. After a while, you felt that he didn't stop moving, and that gave you the shocking revelation that he is still rock hard.

You looked up into his face. Your eyes widened in surprise when you see his expression. His face had no smirk on it anymore. No nothing. It was just a look of determination. It looked like his mind blacked out, and it's only acting on some sort of dark impulse. His eyes are dark, piercing right through you. He stopped talking and only grunted and growled like an animal. This was different from before. Right now, you are his prey, and he is the hunter. You felt the next climax approaching and held onto him because you felt like you would fall apart If this kept on going for too much longer. His hand found its way around your neck again and kept on pressing down. Chocking you, and making you fight for air. You came all over him once more and felt like you were on the brink of losing consciousness before you heard him shout out once more before he shot another load of hot, sticky cum inside your used hole.

Finally, he slowed down and eventually stopped. He collapsed on you and panted. You felt him tremble on top of you. Something seemed wrong. His face shifted to one that could only be compared to that of a child. He was scared. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight. Holding his head in your chest. Your hand tangled its fingers with his hair while the other hand was rubbing his back. 

His arms slowly wrapped around your hips. His cock was still buried inside of you, but he was not hard anymore. He held you tight, and a silent sob was audible. "There is no way in fucking hell that I will let you go. You are mine now. You hear me??! Mine. You were made for me…….mine. Only mine."

In a way, this felt like sealing a deal with the devil himself, yet you weren't afraid….rather it felt like pure bliss. 

This man could ruin your life, and you were okay with that. 

"Only yours." you breathed out before passing out.

You fell asleep with a wide smile on your lips, and the man who claimed your body was on top of you.

It felt good. It felt right, and you knew that he would never let you go anymore….and that's alright with you.

Taglist: @ilovetwodmen @m4nj1ro1 @thestringsoflife @cockonoi

©itsruki reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers and their babies (including partner's pregnancy)

TW: no?

Characters: Jedidiah Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt

Ps: English is not my native language, so sorry for misspels ♡

Jedidiah Sawyer

• Jed spent all his free time with you; he always felt very comfortable in your company. Therefore, when your condition deteriorated sharply, he became worried. Frequent migraines; morning vomiting; refusal of some food that you, as a guy knew, loved very much; swelling and bad mood. Sawyer was seriously scared and immediately let his mother know about it; Verna always understood her son without words.

• When the woman talked to you, she mentally made some conclusions, but she didn't say anything to you, much less to Jed. The only thing she gave you some instructions to ease your condition: less housework, loose clothes, rest and the absence of human meat in the diet.

• After a while, when your belly became a little more noticeable, Verna talked to you about this topic, but asked not to bring Jedidiah up to date; Sawyer mom didn't know how the boy would react to this news.

• When the deadline was slowly approaching, she personally sent you to the hospital. Thanks to the connections of her new man, she was able to provide you with a place in good conditions.

• Jed was very restless. Why did you leave? Are you tired of him? Was he rude or did he hurt you? Please come back, he will definitely try harder, he will be a good boy!

• After a relatively easy delivery, you were in the hospital for a week. Back at the Sawyer house, you were greeted by a terrified Jed. He came out of the basement, painfully looking at you with his eyes-coals and twisting his fingers. His whole body showed uncertainty and fear, he was afraid to let you down, that you would leave again. But inwardly, Jed was so glad you were back. You're not leaving him anymore, are you?

• "Jed. This is our baby," you babble, gently looking at the child.

• Only now does the guy notice the bundle in your hands. Baby? Your baby? Your common child. . ?

• You hold out the baby to Jed, and Verna helps gently lay the baby in his arms. Jed can't believe his eyes. In his arms now lies a little snuffling miracle, his child, no, your child, the fruit of your and Jed's love. And is it really true? Jedidiah begins to gently sway from side to side, as his mother once soothed him during nightmares. He looks at the wrinkled little man with eyes full of love and all kinds of tenderness.

• "You're gonna be a great dad, Jed," you say, kissing the guy on the cheek.

• Only now does he understand your past state. You didn't leave him, you just went to the hospital! All the time he couldn't do anything, you were carrying your child, fighting for his life.

• Jed looks up at you and you see his copper eyes filled with confidence and readiness for this responsibility. He won't let you down. You will be wonderful parents. Together.

Bo Sinclair

• Bo notices that you've been getting more and more nervous and short-tempered lately. Usually after dinner you sit on the sofa with him and coo softly, laying your head on his chest; now you immediately go to your shared bedroom and fall asleep or spend the rest of the evening there, at least when Bo comes into the room, you will already be asleep, curled up in a duvet.

• Usually Bo does not take into account someone else's mood and puts himself first; because of this, you have frequent conflicts, which, in most cases, end with your hysteria. With this outcome, the man hugs you and presses you to his body, stroking your back and apologizing countless times. Still, it's hard for him to get used to the fact that someone else in this house has a fickle character.

• After a couple of weeks, he begins to notice the plumpness of your lower abdomen. He thinks it's cute. Therefore, with your subsequent proximity, he certainly bites your soft flesh.

• In the third month, he already begins to think about your condition. You spend most of the day in your room and only occasionally go out to your brothers, usually to cook a meal and also quickly go upstairs with a full plate. It's not like you! Without your presence, the Sinclair meal turned into a simple quick swallowing of food; no one else enjoyed the meal; there were no jokes, stories, advice and other nonsense that had annoyed Bo up to that point. Now he just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.

• You ask Bo to go to the city with you, to which he actively agrees, and you buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy. Even though you already knew the answer, you wanted to show it to Sinclair. Two stripes. "That's what it turns out. . . Am I going to be a father?"

• The man is proud, very proud and incredibly happy! With the available money, Bo starts buying neutral furniture for the child and various things for you (up to some snotty magazines with cute actors' faces).

• Bo gave you full access to his closet: after all, you've always loved his clothes, especially big T-shirts, which can now make it easier for you to dress with a slowly growing stomach.

• Bo fulfills your every whim. No matter how stupid he is, a man understands that carrying a child is a huge job that requires a lot of effort, so now you are deprived of almost all the responsibilities (he threw off cooking to Lester, and Vincent considered a man who, with his love for beauty, will be able to clean this house wonderfully).

• He doesn't stop teasing Vincent: "Ha, freak! Have you seen that? Have you seen that?! I'm going to be a father, damn it! And you continue to sit and rot among your empty paintings!". After that, you scold Bo and calm Vincent down. "Vinny, this will be your nephew. I'm sure you'll make a good uncle." This significantly affects Bo's self-esteem.

• When Bo finally picks you and the baby up from the hospital, he doesn't let the baby out of his arms for a good five hours. He gives up immediately after he hears the shrill howl of the baby.

• With all his dislike of strong noise, he becomes a good father. At least he knows how to feed a baby, although otherwise he should learn.

• As soon as the child takes the first steps, Bo begins to tell him about the city, in particular about the museum. The kid just looks at his father as if he's crazy.

Thomas Hewitt

• During your pregnancy, Tommy's favorite way to show his support: he picks up your body and puts it on his lap, pressing his back to his chest; his head is buried in the curve of your shoulder and neck; his hands cover your palms on your voluminous stomach.

• Both before and after pregnancy and childbirth, Tommy carries you in his arms. He tries not to leave you alone for more than half an hour.

• You have to give birth right in this house, the nearest city is very far away, and the old man Hoyt does not want to shine. Fortunately, it all ends well.

• Thomas looks at the little man in your arms for a couple of minutes. Flushed, wrinkled skin; clenched fists; kicking feet; squeezed eyes and a piercing scream. This child is literally from one and a half of his palm!

• Hewitt quickly gets used to the smallness of this creature and cradles the child in his arms with uncharacteristic tenderness and caution — Tommy treats the baby like a crystal vase, which, with a little pressure, will burst, crumbling into thousands of small fragments. Although with his superhuman strength, it probably would have been.

• Tommy watches you breastfeed with fascination; it makes you blush a little. A man with unprecedented zeal and interest looks after all your manipulations in relation to the baby. In the end, after a while, he also begins to perform these actions well.

• "Tommy, I need to go out for a while. Luda-May needs help. Can you babysit with [baby's name]?". He nods. When you come back, you see Thomas snuffling on the bed. He put one hand under his head, the other covered your child, who, apparently, followed the example of his daddy and now also drooled on the pillow. Such a cute scene.

• Who would have thought that a Texas maniac with a chainsaw is capable of such tenderness?

• When a child turns two, you stop putting him in the crib at night, and put him between you and Tommy. Hewitt clasps your hands together and covers the baby with them, creating an improvised barrier.

• Thomas turns out to be a very attentive and caring father. He treats the baby carefully and tries in every way to please him/her. Besides, when the three of you are alone in the room, he takes off his mask! The kid feels his father's face curiously.

• The man is still worried that his illness may manifest itself in the child.

• Unexpectedly, but your child and Thomas' favorite game is hide—and-seek. It looks especially strange when a man two meters tall and wide enough in girth is trying to hide.

• Yes, when your baby turned four, Thomas taught him to human flesh.

• The best toy? Daddy's chainsaw!

Okay, it was something a little strange, but I hope you enjoyed it <3

[ojbrush]

hfjONE spoilers ahead !!! dont read if you havent really seen the show

heres a Link to the show if you are interested, its really good! and i reccommend watching it :3 and with that, allow me to ramble. Canonically, Airy views Liam as a friend. Being desensitized and isolated from communication with others for more than 13 years fucked up his perception of people, meaning he thinks of Liam's actions toward him as friendly, as that's basically all he's ever gotten since. Hostility. He views Liams hostility and yelling and aggressiveness and attempted murder on him as signs of friendship. He doesnt realize Liam doesnt like him whatsoever. He doesnt realize that that isnt what friends do. Friends don't try and kill you, friends dont attack you with only hatred just oozing out of every word they say, every action they take. But he doesnt realize that, and which results in him helping Liam even after his attempt at murdering the guy. Regardless of the way Liam treats him, he still helped Liam by giving him a cast for his broken leg, and giving him bedding.

Airy even gave this guy crutches as well, just like before when he broke his leg. Hes mentally unwell, hes apathetic and doesnt seem to care about most things from being isolated and desensitized to everything. Disassociating when Liam yells at him, derealizing CONSTANTLY. People in the fandom view him as a heartless monster whos deranged and only wants to spread pain and suffering, which is also LIAMS view on him. But thats not true.

(as Liam yells at him, he just stares blankly. No real reaction and movement during the time Liam's voice is raised. He finally responds once Liam says "end this, now." with a bunch of apparent hesitance.) Hes just a guy in a world where theres absolutely nobody but him, isolated from contact with other people, desensitized and forgetting who he even was before. He doesnt realize his actions are wrong, and he doesnt realize that when people are being hostile toward him, they do not like him. He does realizes people were scared, he said it himself. "Once they were on the planet, they all seemed pretty scared, so..." (as said in ONE 17: You move, I send.) He doesn't completely ignore peoples emotions, and tries to make it better for them. But he doesn't realize the way he's doing it is wrong. incorrect, a bad way to fix things. Besides, after creating ONE, the contestants were nothing BUT hostile toward him; so he doesn't know anything else. That's all h'es EVER known. Of course it is warranted, and he very much deserves the hostility. Kidnapping people and keeping them to compete in his gameshow against their wills, but he's more than that. What he did was wrong, insanely wrong, but he didn't know that. It doesn't excuse his actions, but it sure as hell explains them. Airy isn't an insane, deranged kidnapper. He's just a guy who's been isolated for too long, and doesn't understand the difference from right and wrong, and he doesn't understand basic human emotions other than his own. Lack of empathy, if you will.

It's just a sad case of isolation and a slowly deteriorating mental state in which results in the suffering of others due to someone (Airy, in this case) slowly becoming someone they dont even recognise themself.

After all, i bet this man doesn't even remember his own name. this was just a senseless ramble i am so incredbily unmotivated for art right now so take me and my insane rambles </3

[itisbop]

Can you tell me some of your head cannons for the retropolis trio?

Ask, and you shall receive!

Bull

- He was the founder of the Gang!

- He and Pam were married, but a little after Jessie was born, they divorced. This is a key reason why he's not as rowdy as he used to be.

- He went to culinary school and got a degree.

- In order to get his life back together, he decided to open a diner.

- Everybody knows he still can't get over his and Pam's break up and jokes about it with him.

- In this AU (my take on the lore more shall be explained soon), his exposure to the gem's radioactive materials still causes him to go bananas like we see in CCTV, but it's more gradually and slowly. Pam, being part of Spude, soon noticed this and realized that their relationship was as good as over due to his deteriorating behavior. Thankfully, it seems that his mental state didn't fully deteriorate as he still has some sense in him.

Crow

- In this AU, Crow used to be human! However, prolonged exposure caused him to start turning into a crow. It was a long and painful process.

- He and Lola used to be part of a gang. They got lost in the park as it seemed to have kept expanding and changing as the traveled. Somewhere along the way, they found an alive Poco.

- He and Lola were taken away shortly after Poco's death to be experimented and observed. The park wanted to see if they could catch key symptoms that were causing all these werid changes within' park employees and visitors. Safe to say, he doesn't like the park.

- He eventually got out and was found by Bull. Bull was nice enough to give him a place to stay (same for Bibi, you'll see soon.)

- He, Bo, and Mr.P are all step-brothers. They had the same mother but different fathers. He is the youngest while Bo is the oldest.

- He is the sole reason why Mortis survived out in the west.

- Speaking of Mortis. They're good friends (No Time To Explain Trios, my beloved), but GOD do they fight a lot. Spike is tired of it.

- He and Bibi are roughly the same size. They share a motorbike

- He's insecure as hell. And understandably. You'll definitely think of yourself differently with such drastic changes to your body.

- Bull, Bibi, Janet, and Bonnie are at least 110% sure he has a crush on Stu. Stu is clueless.

- Somehow, he and Mortis can't stop ending up in the same places together. Retropolis? Mortis is for some reason there. Mecha Squad? Oh, hi Mortis, I guess you're part of this now.

- It wasn't as obvious in Brawlywood, but Mortis did persuade Crow into trying to act. He enjoys it.

- He and Piper are friends!

- Amber and him are friends that the others are afraid by the fact they hang out. Their trios think something might burn to the ground due to the both of them (or freeze).

- Leon looks up to Crow. He wants to be a ninja and believes Crow is one (although he's not). He wants to be "as cool as Crow" as he puts it.

- Crow and Shelly hate each other's guts. Shelly's pissed that he can commit crime while she can't cause she's stuck with the sheriff. There are other reasons, but that's just ONE.

Bibi

- I don't really have a clear idea of how the park changes her, but as for backstory, this is what I have. She was bullied for a long time for being deemed "nerdy" and liking "nerdy things.". However, one day, the bullying was taken too far. On a trip to Starr Park, her bullies managed to strand her somewhere in the park, and she got lost. Distraught and completely broken, she went to Bull's Diner (the closest place for her), begging for any type of help. At that point, she didn't want to return home to where the bullies were. So, just like Crow, he took her in under his wing.

- She's a huge fan of Melodie! (I thought the Melodie and Bibi ship was cool, but it personally wouldn't work with the hcs I have for Melodie, sorry).

- She's one of the only people not to be completely creeped out by Colette. To a degree, Bibi sees a little of her geeky self in her.

- This goes the same for Brock!

- She'd play Ninjala. No questions needed. Look the game up, and you'll see why.

Overall

- The Retropolis Gang are the Rivals of Ranger Ranchers for obvious reasons. (Spike barely helps Colt and Shelly though anyways and he could not care less for the beef).

- Barley is their therapist. They don't why or how, but he's good at advice.

- They do have a reputation for bullying some of the other brawlers. Especially if their name is Carl.

- I like to think that a lot of the more criminal stuff happens behind closed doors when the diner's empty. When it's open, they disguise to seem just like any ol' regular diner.

- The Arcade Trio regular comes to visit even Rico fucking hates all of them.

- The Undead Trio is visit lots too.

And that's it! If I have more, I'll share it with ya'll!

[becauseplot]

Still feel is one of my fav fics ever and it made me so happy to see more stuff from this AU! Your post-osnf headcannons are sooo good!! Actually im a big fan of your ordem headcannons in general tbh

If you dont mind sharing more on it...Can you maybe tell us a bit more about your ideas for the effects the symbol left on Thiago? Like, is he still connected to it or to Santo Berço somehow?? I find this consequences stuff really interesting and id be cool to hear more about it

Aw thanks!! I'm glad someone's getting some enjoyment out of my rambles <33

I can go a bit deeper, of course! Warning for the fact that this does get pretty sad and heavy, sorry :(

So Santo Berço really is gone. Equipe E destroyed it. The effects that Thiago is now dealing with are essentially mental scarring: a mix of normal human PTSD with a paranormal "flare" to it. The Symbol has seared itself not just onto his back but onto his mind as well. His dreams of the Symbol are due to trauma and the fact that, just as he suspects, he was never meant to escape it. It is stuck with him now. Anything touched by Death cannot go back to the way it was before, after all.

I kind of like to think about his mental state in terms of Ordem's "sanity" system as well. He recovers plenty of "sanity" while in injury recovery, since he's given time to rest, away from stressors. Eventually, he starts to do work for the Order again, but he quickly learns that he can't handle stressful, paranormal events like he could before (systems-wise, he has a permanent de-buff/disadvantage in the sanity checks) and missions---even the short one he starts out with---just put too much strain on his body. So, he winds up becoming part of the Order's cover-up team, helping fudge official reports and write up those "logical explanations" that Veríssimo sometimes references.

It's a role that's...much easier on him, after everything he went through. He does notice a pattern between his stress and the frequency of the Symbol dreams, so it's much better this way. He will, on rare occasions, help his friends out in the field with intel gathering (perhaps encountering a Horror on the way, which is never fun), and with he gets to serve as a sounding board for Liz's investigations, both her personal ones and the ones she does with the Order.

There are...other effects of the symbol. That he doesn't like to talk about. He's taken a sickly comfort in swirling designs, ever since he woke up in that hospital; back when he dealt with the nightmares on his own, before Liz and the others knew about them, he used to go to bed with reminders to himself ("Your name is Thiago Fritz, you live in São Paulo with Liz, she's in the bedroom upstairs...") written on his arm surrounded by swirls in the hopes they might calm him down enough to think and read it. He ponders his father's pocket watch more than he should, taking solace in the even, steady tick of time moving at the right pace as much as he does watching the second hand go around and around. He finds himself tracing circle after circle after circle with his finger when he's lost in thought or anxious about something...

He finds himself taking comfort in it. The Symbol. The thought makes him feel ill.

Over the months between osnf and opd, his mind slowly starts to deteriorate. Anything touched by Death cannot go back to the way it was before, after all. The frequency of the dreams has always been correlated with his stress and thus fluctuates, but on average they start to get more frequent, and the more intense ones happen more often, and it slowly gets worse, and worse, and worse until---

---he "zones out" one day, thinking of the Symbol. Thirty seconds, nothing much, it must just be on his mind. Then, he starts to fully disconnect from his surroundings, in his own head, pondering the Symbol for a minute or two. The white void starts to creep into his vision sometimes, reality losing meaning and definition, for several minutes at a time. Minutes turn to an hour, two hours, more, if no one is around to pull him out of it.

Thiago, as much as he hates to admit it to himself, is very, very tired. His mind and body are worn out, abused, overused. The thought that he's been living on borrowed time ever since Santo Berço comes more often than he'd like. At the worst of times, he feels like he's orbiting and closing in on some final, finite point. But he'll never tell his friends this because he knows it'll scare them because fuck, it scares him too. (Though, the times where it doesn't scare him are...even worse.)

[thelordofgifs]

tfs essay? tfs essay. Today I would like to go on a lengthy lengthy ramble about Maedhros and Maglor’s relationship in the third arc and literally nobody can stop me.

Dedicating this to @and-the-times-we-had both because I promised an essay in an ask game thing and because you have been the most encouraging enthusiastic kind reader since literally part 1! 💕

Spoilers up to part 30 below the cut.

One of my favourite things about the third arc of tfs – i.e. parts 21-30 – has been examining the dynamic between Maedhros and Maglor, which following the events of part 19 and 20 has actually changed quite significantly from their dynamic in canon, in my opinion. (It is, it turns out, possible to take one of the most codependent claustrophobic relationships in the entire book and make it even worse.) This is mainly because Maedhros stabbed Maglor, and they’re both rather traumatised by the whole incident. Maedhros, in particular, spends all of part 19 having a breakdown about it and then an identity crisis in part 20:

But he always thought – he always thought he was, if nothing else, beyond reproach as an elder brother.

It was only ever a delusion. Amrod and Celegorm both died because Maedhros failed to protect them, after all.

But this is different. He has killed Maglor himself – no need for metaphor. He held his little brother with one arm and drove a blade into his side with the other.

Who is he, if not that? What is left of him if Maglor is gone – if he cannot be Maglor’s protector anymore, because Maglor is dead – because Maedhros killed him?

Although Maedhros does find the strength to do the right thing in part 20 – he finds Maglor in the cave, and asks him to stay – he finishes that section of the story with these questions unanswered, and spends most of the third arc quietly grappling with them. The way I write them, both Maedhros and Maglor define themselves very strongly by who they are to each other (PSA! this is not healthy!) and Maglor, too, bases a lot of his identity on the fact that Maedhros needs him, and has needed him since Angband. It is, I think, the only way he can attempt to atone for what he thinks of as the worst thing he ever did: leaving Maedhros there. Curufin, who is very stupid and also occasionally very smart, points this out to him when he tells him, “You don’t know who you are if you aren’t someone he needs,” – a line which rather haunts Maglor, later, because he doesn’t really have a way to refute it:

You don’t know who you are, said Curufin, if you aren’t someone he needs.

But I am, Maglor thinks now, with Maedhros’ head resting on his knee, I am, I am.

(part 22)

and

You don’t know who you are if you aren’t someone he needs, said Curufin.

What does Curufin know about anything? Maglor asks himself angrily.

(part 25)

And it's true! Maedhros does need Maglor. He tells Maglor so via ósanwë in part 20, and Maglor clings to that knowledge all through the third arc, as Maedhros' mental state slowly deteriorates, and he relies on Maglor more and more heavily. But Maglor is still scared! He's still defining himself far too much as Maedhros' Support Person:

“Will you not reach for me?” Maglor says, desperately.

What will he do, if Maedhros walks away? What good is he, if Maedhros does not need him?

(part 29)

So! basically. they aren't very normal about each other. But, importantly, Maedhros starts to realise this! He realises that he asks a lot of Maglor, and that Maglor is unable to deny him anything ever, and that Maglor is absolutely terrified by the prospect of Maedhros not needing him anymore. So in part 22:

“I ask so much of you,” says Maedhros, “and you keep on giving it—”

Maglor begins the painstaking work of unravelling the messy braids he has scattered through Maedhros’ hair. “I will,” he says, “I always will;” and Maedhros shudders.

those last three words are important: and Maedhros shudders. I tried to keep a fairly consistent theme running through this arc that Maglor keeps telling Maedhros, in words and actions, I love you I love you I love you, and the more he says it the more upset Maedhros gets: both because he doesn't think he deserves Maglor's love after he stabbed him, and because he is beginning to realise that this relationship is deeply deeply codependent. (I deliberately avoided Maedhros' POV for most of the arc, both for suspense reasons and because being inside his head would have been... upsetting, so a lot of this had to be subtextual, but I hope it came through a little bit!) So we get weird exchanges like this one:

Maglor stares at his fingers. "It isn't the right answer," he says. "I don't know if I can explain why. Yes, that Silmaril does not belong to Thingol, and yet..." He looks up at Maedhros. "But I will ask her, if you command it."

Maedhros takes a sharp step back, and then another. "No. No!" His face is white. He takes a breath and smiles, with noticeable effort. "I am not your lord any more, Káno. Himring is fallen. You need not take command from me."

and this one:

“All right,” he says. “I will not fight if you do not wish it, Nelyo. I know your heart will be easier if I am safe.”

But when Maedhros steps back to look at him there is a flash of wild despair in his eyes. Maglor cannot understand it.

(Maedhros: please please please do this thing for me

Maglor: I don’t really want to but for you anything

Maedhros, internally: WHY ARE YOU DOING WHAT I ASKED YOU TO DO THIS IS TERRIBLE)

When the idea of Maedhros willingly going to Sauron first came to me, I was both intrigued and rather intimidated by the obvious question: why on earth would Maedhros do this when he knows how deeply it will hurt Maglor? I think the answer I settled on is quite satisfying – he is doing it because it will hurt Maglor, because Maglor’s forgiveness causes him extreme distress and he wants his brother to hate him instead. This is why he keeps telling Maglor that he does not deserve to be forgiven, and that Maglor should hate him; and Maglor keeps trying to reassure him by telling him that he does forgive him, and will never hate him, and Maedhros keeps getting more and more upset by these reassurances. I don’t think there’s anything Maglor could have done differently! It is the very fact of his love that is hurting Maedhros, and it’s not like he’s just going to stop being weirdly unhealthily devoted to his brother. That’s been the cornerstone of his identity for coming up on five hundred years, after all.

Anyway, Maedhros is beginning to understand this, and in part 30 sums up the situation pretty concisely:

That, of course, is the problem: that Maedhros needs Maglor, and hurts him by needing him so, puts shadows under his eyes and an anxious cast to his sweet melodious voice – and that he cannot stop taking from him, and Maglor will never stop giving it.

Will you not reach for me? Maglor said, his voice jagged with fear; and so Maedhros reached. He always reaches. Because Maglor needs Maedhros to need him, and so they bind themselves ever tighter to each other, and it cannot – it cannot go on like this, not when Maedhros looked upon the person he loved more than anything and readied himself to kill him.

Maedhros needs Maglor, and Maglor needs Maedhros to need him: the root of the problem. They're both perfectly aware of this situation! But Maglor is... honestly not that concerned by it, whereas to Maedhros it has become untenable, both because he doesn't think he deserves Maglor's devotion and because he can tell the dynamic hurts Maglor.

("Will you not reach for me?", for the record, is the third arc's equivalent of part 19's "Ask me to stay and I'll stay" - both lines that Maglor says to Maedhros, desperate attempts to get Maedhros to reaffirm that he needs Maglor. In part 19, Maedhros' response is to tell Maglor he cannot do that, and then in part 20 he does ask Maglor to stay. This sequence of events reverses in parts 29 and 30: Maedhros does reach for Maglor in part 29, and then decides not to in part 30. You only ever had to ask – but he doesn't.)

... You can love someone very deeply, and understand them better than anyone else does, and still hurt them terribly, I think.

[a-really-good-lawyer-abandoned]

Something I never see people talk about (which could be because I simply haven't come across it) is how rough forming a new hyperfixation can be, especially a core hyperfixation.

I've loved Star Trek for years. But for whatever reason, it wasn't until a couple years ago that something in my brain *clicked* and it became a new core hyperfixation.

In some ways it was better than past such hyperfixations because there is so much Star Trek out there to consume, between shows and films and then the fandom content because this fandom has been alive and well for over 50 years, gave birth to modern fandom.

But that didn't change the fact that, for the ensuing six months, it consumed my life - and not in the fun, tongue-in-cheek way we say 'this fandom consumes my life', like semi-hyperbole.

When I say it consumed my life, I mean it was near non-stop hyperfocus for months.

My apartment was constantly a mess, same as my sense of time. My sleep schedule was constantly erratic. I was often dehydrated, had frequent headaches, often found myself shaking from all the adrenaline surges. I dropped fifteen pounds almost without noticing (weight I shouldn't have dropped).

I was always drained, always disoriented, always distracted. It didn't feel good. Really, it felt distinctly bad, and I felt completely out of control to make it stop. If I made myself ignore the media and fic and fan art and all of that, it just meant I sank into myself, got lost in my head for hours on end.

After the first two months it began to gradually, slowly ease up, and when I hit around six months it stopped feeling like I was being dragged along and started to feel the way I want when it comes to hyperfixations - it was fun, mood-boosting. Engaging with it improved my mental health, instead of causing it, along with my physical health, to deteriorate.

That was probably the worst 'epsiode' I've had, but I've had them several times. The one when I developed the Daredevil hyperfixation thankfully lasted only two months, same as when it was FMA:B and BBC Merlin, and...three months, I think, for Star Wars? The one that got closest was Smallville, my first fandom hyperfixation, though I imagine some of that had to do with it coming out when I first had regular internet access. That one was maybe four or five months, and was dragged out by the fact that I was in high school so I was 'forced' away from it all by the anxiety of college applications and AP exams and all that fun stuff.

I love having these things. They've been good for me, for my emotional welfare - have helped me survive so much. I never regret that initial rough aspect, not that I've ever had the power to do things differently.

But it is rough, and one of the aspects of neurodivergence I've had the most trouble explaining to neurotypical people. They see it as simple obsession or addiction, something that I fell into and need to take steps to pull myself out of, rather than something that my brain just does at the drop of a hat and which won't stop until I go through that process. Trying not to, trying to mitigate it, just ends up dragging that process out. It can't be reduced or bypassed. It's just part of how my brain works.

And people trying to interfere with that, to 'fix' that by making me pay attention to other things, giving me tasks, whatever it may be - it does nothing to change it. If anything, it makes the whole thing much more destabalizing, in ways that can have major consequences for my state of mind, and I've had the experiences to prove it.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but I just...wanted to put it out there. I think there can be shame attached to this reality - shame I've felt, and which I've come to recognize originates from neurotypical social expectations and a lack of understanding.

If this is something you've dealt with and have been shamed for, I hope this post can give you some comfort. It isn't a failing, isn't deviant, isn't indulgent. It just is, and you aren't bad or broken or weak because of it.

[blueepink07]

Checkmate

Posting this fic here too! But you can also read here.

Summary: Yuno notices a pair of crimson eyes staring at her match of chess with Mahiru. Scared that her older friend might remember the latest event in which she was attacked by the same pair of eyes, she swiftly leads her to Shidou's cell with the excuse that Mahiru needs to take her medications. However, when Yuno comes back, the same prisoner that disrupted their game demands another match with her.

"No fair… You are too good at this, Yuno! You really have to teach me, too!!"

"And… Checkmate!"

"Sure!! Let's put the pieces back together and I will teach you some tricks!~"

"Right! But… Where was the queen placed…?"

"Mahiru…" Yuno couldn't help but laugh, noticing her friend mistaking the queen’s place for the king's.

It's been a while since they stayed like this, relaxed and cheerful, despite the circumstances… Kotoko's attacks prevented Mahiru from moving much, forcing her to spend the days in her cell, without an occupation. Although Yuno was frequently checking on her, she grew worried, noticing that with every passing minute, her mental state was deteriorating, so the requested wheelchair felt like a rescue from this monotonous routine.

Exactly, when the two friends were finishing to set up the table, Yuno spotted a pair of crimson eyes staring in their direction. The same pair started to approach them, the high school girl's heartbeat slowly increasing with each step. She wasn't scared for her… She was worried for Mahiru, who hadn't still felt the presence of the other person. How would she react seeing the prisoner who hurt her just a while ago? What's Kotoko trying to do? She can't beat up anyone during the trial, but what if…

No, Yuno, these are just assumptions! The best thing you can do is to avert Mahiru from noticing the taller prisoner and get her to leave the chess table.

"Mahiru… I think it's the time to get your medications. Let's first go to Shidou and then we will continue, ok?"

"Ah… but I had thought there was still some time left until my next medication…"

"I understand why! We had such a fun time together, so it's only natural. Here, let me help you!"

"No!"

Yuno's flinch didn't get unnoticed by Mahiru, who, with an apologetic smile continued:

"I don't want to be a bother… You spent so much time with me… With this wheelchair I can move by myself… So, really, Yuno, I will be fine…"

"It's still annoying to move with that, isn’t it? You still haven't got used to… This. Don't worry, for me it's not a bother! I have nothing better to do, so let's go!"

Yuno didn't even wait for Mahiru's response, helping her instead to move as fast as possible, directing the wheelchair at an angle from where she wouldn't be able to see Kotoko. Her heartbeat started to slow down as she was approaching Shidou's cell, knocking on the door.

"I think I will retreat for now!! Don't forget about the match!"

"Ah.. Yuno?!"

"Sorry Mahiru… I should go back to see if everything is clear now…"

Yuno felt more confident when she came back, if not she became curious of what Kotoko wanted from them. She wasn't even surprised to see her sitting in Mahiru's place, staring at the chess table.

"Kotoko… Do you want to play chess too? Although I don't think that's why you came, right?"

"Actually, that’s why I'm here. I've noticed that you are quite skilled at it, so I thought it would be good practice."

"She hadn't even hidden the fact that she watched us for a while. But I guess she had no reason to, considering that she now thinks she is Es's partner."

"I'm surprised! I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be the type to play chess for fun!"

"I play once in a while… It’s relaxing actually, it also trains my mind and helps me keep myself more… composed."

How much Yuno would want to throw the chess table to a corner and leave. Keeps her relaxed, huh? What a lie, Kotoko's hesitation tells everything. The way her voice, usually powerful, has been slightly trembling at the last word.

She is after something, that’s for sure… Yuno heard before that the strategy you use when playing chess can tell a lot about one's personality. Is this Kotoko's attempt at trying to learn more about her, while making herself vulnerable? After all, this game of accumulating information can be played by two.

"Okay~"

"I will begin first, if it's alright…"

"Sure, go on!"

Making the first move… Usually the one who begins has a slight advantage. Is Kotoko not that confident about her skills…? However, the first two moves are usually the same regardless of who you play with. As expected, Kotoko moved the pawn that guarded the king. The muscle memory worked in, and Yuno, too, placed her own pawn with two slots.

The objective, in the beginning part of the game, was to make an opening for as many pieces as possible in a short time. Kotoko seemed to know this too as she started to move more pawns to make room for the pieces that were worth more points.

Just a few moves in the game, and Yuno could already tell Kotoko's style of playing. After quickly disposing of the pawns that kept the other pieces in place, the raven haired girl started to consider every move an opportunity to attack. Aggressive, but precise, fearless, no matter the consequences. If Yuno would take into consideration the latest events, she would think that this is how Kotoko usually plays. But… Something feels off. Kotoko analyses before she acts. Her moves right now are too reckless, the difference in points being quite large, Yuno having a considerable advantage.

Has Kotoko figured it out already…? That the way Yuno plays during their match is different from her usual style? The highschool girl likes to trick her opponents at every given chance, while also putting herself in a position that might mislead the opponent, creating a false sense of stability that would cause them to advance in the danger, becoming a victim of her tactics. However, with the possibility of Kotoko wanting to learn more about her, it forced Yuno to take a different approach. Instead of using tricks, she decided to play safe, maybe too calm and boring for her liking. Not attacking much, but having a good defense, while slightly predicting the opponent's moves.

Is Kotoko trying to push Yuno to her limits? Yuno is not a fan of long matches, and considering that Kotoko plays in offense, while she plays in defense, it will take some time until one of them wins.

To succumb to boredom and let Kotoko's strategy actually work, or continue this charade…

It will be easier if she would just stand up and leave… After all, Kotoko is not someone she would like to spend time with and she should really check on Mahiru.

"Hey, Yuno. You seem deep in thought, are you actually paying attention to the game?"

"Hm~? Chess is about strategy, so it would be natural to be deep in thought. Or is this your way of acknowledging that you let me win?"

"Hmph, let you win. What nonsense. I think you are the one who treats me lightly. From what I've seen, from your other matches, you could have already won by now."

Since when did Kotoko start to spy on their games? It's scary how easily she can make herself unnoticed and claim so much information.

"How sweet! An admirer!"

Surprisingly, Kotoko didn't comment about her reply, instead her face turning into a frown.

"Your skills at chess are really impressive, my only objective was to have fun with you."

"... Really? After everything that happened, what made you think that I will forgive or forget. I don't think I have to spell it out for you, why does no one want to sit next to you though."

"Then, why did you accept my request? I know that you aren't afraid of me. Were you scared that I might have hurt Mahiru? Do not think that your action didn't go unnoticed."

Why did Yuno accept the request… To gain information about the prisoner in front of her… Who was now watching her with the same crimson eyes that a few minutes ago, caused her heartbeat to be increased. Would it be a smart move to answer honestly? No, her intentions should be hidden for now. Who knows? Maybe if she will do this more times, she could figure out better what is the deal with Kotoko. And the next time, she would make sure that no one would be injured by her anymore. To predict Kotoko's next moves. Like in chess.

"Hm… I wonder! You are the only one with whom I haven't still played with, so I suppose I was curious about your skills! Especially, since you said that chess is relaxing…"

"Ah… The small competition you had last week. You won, didn't you?"

"Haha… Yes, but I'm wondering if Shidou actually let me win. His skills are truly impressive."

Kotoko's face showed little to no emotion, but Yuno could tell that she didn't believe her lie at all.

"Still, you should have played fair with me. Anyway, I'm done here. Next time, promise me to give me a great match, okay? I want to see more of the real Kashiki Yuno."

"..."

With Kotoko's departure, Yuno was left alone with her thoughts. "Next time… huh?" Her motive is still… unclear. It's not like Kotoko likes her very much, the feeling is mutual, so what does the raven haired woman want to achieve?

"Yunoo!!~"

"Mahiru!"

"See, I've told you that I can manage on my own!"

"Did Kotoko leave, because she noticed Mahiru approaching…? Would she be really so considerate of Mahiru's feelings, or is it pure coincidence?"

"Ah… Are you okay…? You seem spaced out…"

"Oh, yes! No worries! Let's play, shall we? I can't wait to show you some cool moves!"

"And maybe I would not be the first one eliminated, next time, from the competition!"

"That’s the spirit!"

All Yuno's worries about Kotoko's motivations dispersed as soon as the new match started. With a small, soft smile, she began explaining to her friend some of the easier tactics, as Mahiru was pretty much a beginner. Yuno couldn't help, but laugh seeing the eyes that were watching her with anticipation and curiosity. It is the first time, since Mahiru was injured, when her older friend displayed genuine happiness, her beautiful eyes seeming to regain their sparkle that she adored so much.

[sealrock]

been rotating my sadboy hector in my mind like a hot pocket in the microwave for a while, here's a very long random lore dump in no particular order as I write up his backstory:

like gaia, hector doesn't remember much of his past. he's not sure if his name is even his real name, but people tend to accept 'hector wormwood' despite his garlean origin well enough

his memory is spotty and he can't go into detail much, but he can recall his nameday, living in a place with bright blue roofs (terncliff), a white room, and that he had a twin sister who died early in his life. he can't remember his parents or the life he lived before he 'woke up' in the middle of the dravanian hinterlands

he met andromache on the road and joined her group of adventurers (yves and tauvane). the four of them took on odd jobs and hunted down monsters for the clan centurio. he would later be romantically involved with her and have a child (paris)

his third eye is usually hidden behind his bangs, and he doesn't like to talk about it with others. he doesn't know why, but he experiences negative emotions when someone points out his third eye

he's very withdrawn and skittish and is intimidated by others to the point that he'll freeze up if someone tries to take advantage of him. which happens often

he likes horticulture and cooking. when he lived in the west shroud hector had a beautiful garden of flowers, vegetables, and fruits

he doesn't remember how he ended up in eorzea, he just knows that he's running from something

at some point he picked up a rusted sickle to defend himself with, but he's not that good at melee combat

he's extremely short for a garlean, standing at 5'4. yves liked to pat his head and call him 'mouse' despite hector's embarrassment

he doesn't like being around other people, bad things always happens to others whenever he's around, usually death. hector blames 'the shadow' that's been following him for as long as he can remember (the shadow is halmarut without a human vessel, not that hector knows this)

the shadow is something that hector is most afraid of, even though the entity has saved his life countless times. this was halmarut's plan in making hector isolated and totally dependent on them

similar to gaia and her time/darkness skillset, hector has shadow-based abilities a la nier that are seemingly psionic in nature, and deadly to boot. garleans can't manipulate aether, but how hector can be able to apparently summon dark aether is a question even he can't answer. he hates using his powers because of its malevolent nature and will apologize to those he has to fight

he has terrible and horrifying nightmares and hallucinations because of the shadow. sometimes he'll be found on the floor in a ball or crying

besides the shadow, hector is followed by the 'spirit' of his dead sister, she speaks to him at times and hector appears to address no one. this tends to creep people out

andromache and yves can't see the shadow, but they feel an menacing and oppressive presence hovering around hector at times. but paris could actually see the shadow and shared their father's fear of it as a child, especially at night

hector hates the feeling of being stared at, people who tend to stare tend to not have good intentions. he feels like he's being watched 24/7

hector has a near 1:1 counterpart shard on the first that halmarut attempted to possess. the joining was unsuccessful, however, and the shard ended up going mad because his soul was damaged. he was killed by andromache and paris during the events of shb

when halmarut's influence began to overtake him, hector's mental state slowly began to deteriorate when paris was a child. hector began to remember a life he never had and a dream of a burning world. the straw that broke the camel's back came when andromache, who already left him because of his descent into madness, wished to take paris with her and away from hector, leaving him completely alone. the resulting mental breakdown was what halmarut needed to possess him

[victoriously-wicked]

Wishing Only Wounds the Heart…

I wrote this one shot within the last 24 hours (wow that’s impressive by my standards). I came up with the prompt myself. It’s from Glinda’s point of view. Anyways, hope you enjoy. PROMPT: HOW GLINDA IS COPING AFTER ELPHABA’S “DEATH”, AND HER PERSPECTIVE ON WHAT HAPPENED THE DAY SHE LOST HER BEST FRIEND.

A heaving sigh escaped my lungs as I entered the palace, returning from the most recent public gathering. The instant the doors closed behind me, I allowed my smile to drop, returning to my ever-persistent state of depression.

Keeping up the façade was a challenge at first, but over time, it had become somewhat of a reflex. No Ozian was ever to see how my mental state was slowly disintegrating with each passing moment. 

Showcasing the truth, my misery, would only evoke suspicion from the citizens therefore, whenever I find myself in the public eye, a plastic smile I weld unto my face.

It was best this way. It was safer too. But there was a time not so long ago, where these smiles weren’t so forced or disingenuous, where sadness was an emotion I hardly experienced.

My state of mind hadn’t begun to deteriorate until the depression took over. And the depression didn’t start until that fateful day, when everything I ever cared about was taken from me. 

What made things worse was that everything was all my fault. 

Sweet Oz, how I wish I could turn back the clock.

I wish I’d had the courage to disprove the rumours.

I wish I’d had the brains to take back my words prompting her sister’s death.

I wish I’d had the heart to stop the witch hunters.

I wish I’d never made that promise to her as not to clear her name. 

But most of all, I wish she was alive…

                                                           ~~~

The haunting silhouette of her shadow fades, and her cries subdue. A deafening silence washes over, and I hear only my own shuddering breaths against my palm.

Frozen, I find myself unable to move the trembling hand from my mouth, or wipe the tears rolling down my pale cheeks, until a sudden gust of cold wind blows through the castle, and shocks me out of my transfixed state. 

I stumble out from my hiding spot behind the drapes. 

“Elphie?” I brokenly whisper.

No response.

I feel my stomach drop as I reach out to pull open the curtain, longing for nothing more than to be met with the familiar green tint of her emerald skin.

The curtain opens, and there’s nothing.

The room is empty.

Through my tear-clouded vision, I notice a familiar object on the floor. It takes less than a moment to recognise what it is as I reach down, and gently pick it up.

The hideodeous hat. Her hat. 

“Oh, Elphie!” I sob, clutching the limp brown piece of cloth to my body, allowing myself to completely break down, finally accepting the events of which I had just unknowingly witnessed mere moments ago.

Elphie had been killed. 

She’s gone.

I’ll never get to see her again…

                                                         ~~~

“Miss Glinda?” came the voice of Chistery, flying overhead in the hallway before perching on the diamond-encrusted chandelier. 

It was seconds after Elphaba had parted for good that the two of us had formally met. Seeing his gentle soul, which he had no doubt mirrored from Elphie, I made it my goal to help him the way she had tried to. I’d taught him how to speak. The day he’d finally managed to form a complete sentence without fail, I knew Elphie was proud, despite not being there to witness it.

“Is something troubling you?” Chistery asked, flying down from the chandelier to the floor.

Chistery’s words brought myself back to reality, and I vigorously shook my head in an attempt to snap myself out of the memories from the dreaded day. 

Thankfully, Chistery was aware of my emotional struggles so understandably, hiding my sudden bout of tears from him was not a problem. Silently nodding at him, I wiped a fallen tear from my cheek and made my way to my room.

Despite its grandeur and spaciousness, I constantly felt confined within these bedroom walls. It simply didn’t compare to the coziness that had come with the previously shared dorm room with Elphie; one of the very few fond memories I still clutched onto.

After removing my tiara, wand, and ridding myself of the suffocating gown, my gaze wandered to my closet. I eyed the quoxwood doors and momentarily hesitated, before deciding to open them with a creak and reach in, pulling out the familiar cone-shaped object from the hidden depths of the wardrobe.

‘I thought you might wanna wear this hat to the party tonight!’

The words of my formerly happy younger self rang in my ears, as I brought the tattered thing to my chest. One of the last things I had left of her.

I couldn’t bring myself that day to simply leave it in Kiamo Ko. I had initially tried to, but doing so felt as though I was leaving a fragment of myself behind. And I was broken enough as it was.

It was the only thing that sparked a sense of comfort within me. The incredibly faint smell of her scented oils still lingered on the fabric. It felt familiar. It felt comforting.

As I did every single day, I clenched my eyes shut and sunk to the floor, rocking back and forth on my knees, with the hat pressed tightly against myself, my endless river of tears soaking the headpiece.

“Elphie please, I need you. I’m broken.” I weeped, gently stroking the matte material of the hat.

“I wish you would come back to me.” I whispered.

Almost instantaneously, a creak from a floorboard came from the other side of the door, followed by a barely audible knock. Snapping my head in the direction of the door, I let out a sharp breath and arose.

It couldn’t be…could it?

Slowly, I approached the doorway, the most minuscule smile twitching at the corners of my mouth, and turned the knob until it clicked. Trembling, I gently opened the door. 

“Miss Glinda, your presence is requested regarding a matter of dispute between the citizens.”

It was a guard.

My barely-visible smile dropped, and my heart somehow managed to sink even deeper than it already had.

I assume he noticed my switch in demeanour, for his emotionless face morphed into that of concern.

“Your Goodness? Are you alright?”

“I-I thought for a second that she was…” I had began to mumble, before letting a small sigh escape through my nose. Plastering on my false smile, I looked back at the guard.

“Of course. Tell them to expect me in a clock-tick.” I replied, nodding my head before closing the door.

After hearing his footsteps fade, I turned to rest my back against the door, and found myself sliding down the wood. It wasn’t until moments later that I even realised I was sobbing once again, hugging my knees as I sat, broken on the floor. 

Not all wishes come true, I suppose…

And SCENE! So yeah, did you find that sad? I thought I did a pretty terrible job at it. If you’re confused about what exactly happened, go to the replies section, I’ve written a ‘brief’ explanation.

[branches-in-a-flood]

This is gonna be a small novel to organize some of my personal life thoughts. By no means is anyone expected to read this, I'm just posting to the interactive diary here.

I have allowed things to continue to deteriorate with partner one. It's been almost like an acute on chronic injury. It’'s been less than it was for years, but I had accepted it and was operating like it was what I wanted for the most part. It was what I wanted for a long time. I was so wrapped up in my career that I didn't have time or energy to do more typical romantic relationship things. We saw each other every few weeks and it was. It was fine. It wasn't enough at first but I sucked it up and became perfect for my life.

Work and mental illness and chronic illness all became too much for me last summer. Relationship (rightfully) pushed back as I focused on surviving. Partner was supportive, gave me as much space as I needed. I thought space was what I needed. We talked less and less. We rarely saw each other. I tried to be happy with that, and I was sure I was. I'm not social after all, and if I wasn't sick then I was too depressed to be good company. A few times I broke my own rules and asked for them to come over. Most of the time they couldn't. Other plans. With other partners. Also having a day of no spoons. (Though they did come over sometimes. It didn't seem to help much, and I didn't put my finger on why. Possibly still haven't.)

I left my old job. Couldn't handle the work load and stress anymore. I also started therapy. Slowly, over months, realized that I do want more of the stereotypical romantic relationship things. Or at the very least to see partner one more than monthly. They agreed that we need to see each other more. We talked about doing more kink scenes. Kink was actually one of the things that brought us together years and years ago, and it had fallen out of our relationship. In the past five months we have done one scene. It frustrates me beyond words. I have never felt so safe with a partner; a partner who seems to not want to do anything with me anymore.

I started drawing away, unconsciously at first. I talked to my therapist about how I was feeling - surely I'm being dramatic and stupid. But they encouraged me to, obviously, talk to my partner about it. I had. I did again. Partner stated that they still feel we have a romantic attraction, though it fluctuates because we are both neurodivergent adults with full time careers. And I can't fault that answer. I can't argue with it. I told them I needed time to decide if I wanted more or less. (Despite having already asked for more. Having more agreed to. And receiving less.) They said they’re happy for me to figure it out either way.

Talked about this with the therapist. Therapist assassinated me by asking if I wished my partner had put up a fight instead of being passive and accepting of what I was saying. Explained that I don't want to be with someone who wants to leave, and my partner is very similar. Neither of us want to make anyone feel compelled to stay. But there's always that fantasy of the undying love that you'll fight for, even if it's only a fantasy. Reality is not as heroic. Through our session realized that I am more ok with letting the relationship go than I am with fighting for it again. I tend to only ask for things twice before moving on, and I had asked for more time and attention several times.

The week after that session I stopped messaging my partner first. Just to see what would happen. I know it's an immature game, but I was curious. Several days would pass between us communicating. In my head we’re already done. I was no longer spending my time anxiously awaiting a response to whatever message I had sent. (One of the things that put more weight on the “give up" side was when I sent a several page analysis and ramble of Fall For Me that was left on read. Zero acknowledgement at all.) So I stopped caring. Then stopped sending messages that weren't simply daily updates on work or good morning texts.

So if my mind is made up, why can I not talk to them about it?

We've been together for the better part of a decade. We started dating when I was still with my abusive ex. Partner one was pivotal in getting me to see the situation and leave. They gave me a place to stay between semesters when I was otherwise without a roof. They helped me deeply explore BDSM in a safe environment. They helped me heal from previous trauma. They have given me so much more than I have given them.

And I want to leave.

It doesn't feel fair to them. But I don't feel anything anymore, and that isn't fair either.

I know it will be a calm, well-reasoned discussion. I know he’ll handle it well when we talk. But I still panic when I think about it. I don't want to hurt them, but that's obviously going to happen. I feel like I'm going to get into trouble when the conversation happens, which is such a. Such an unfounded and juvenile thought?

(But I also thought the last two people I broke up with would take it reasonably. In one case a knife and the sheriff became involved. In the other I was cornered and demanded to pay money I didn't have and had not borrowed. So I'm sure at least a little of the issue lies there.)

Each day that goes by without at least telling them that I want to talk is adding so much stress and guilt that I have the whole thing built up to more than it is. But what do I say? How can I tell someone who has been so caring and kind and has taken such good care of me, that I just don't feel love for them anymore? I do still love them deeply. Academically. Platonically. But not in a way that would sustain this relationship. And they don't deserve that.

[sockeye-run]

Up early on a Saturday (it's my Friday) again. Usually I get to work early to open the cafe for breakfast service so that our bee pick up customers have a coffee and hot food option on site; a lot of them drive for hours to pick up their nucs and packages, even from out of state. Just coming from north Texas is basically out of state by sheer distance alone lol.

But today is BuzzFest, our annual summer festival about all things bees. We have the American Honey Princess visiting from Iowa, multiple other apiaries and honey producers vending and doing demonstrations, honey tastings and trivia, educational demonstrations, food trucks and arts and crafts and games (including a bouncy castle and a water slide!)... It's expected to be a big event, hopefully nearing 1,000+ customers between 11-3 today.

I'm assigned to retail, so I'm lucky enough to get to stay in the shade and AC. I've been told that when in retail, you just stand behind the register all day, no time or space to do anything else. You have to force bathroom and food breaks for each other. I'm not too worried, I've worked many a high volume, high chaos event before. This is just my first experience with it at the farm. We've spent all week as a team prepping for it, and it should be great. I wanted to make kolaches for my coworkers for a morning treat, but I stayed at work so late yesterday and was exhausted when I got home last night and decided not to stay up late baking lol. I'll grab some from the bakery down the street and try to make everyone a latte or something at work instead.

Because of the absolute disaster that has been this years bee pick up season, everything has been pushed back at least two weeks. Usually BuzzFest, which is the same weekend every year, signals the end of the crazy bee season, but we still have orders going into June. I was kind of looking forward to the break, but it seems we're not quite there yet.

The kids have some family events planned for the beginning of June, so we're getting them a week or so later this year for summer break than usual. We want them to have fun with their free time, so we're cool with it... Plus honestly, I'm hoping it will show good faith for December when I have to ask to keep them longer for an event with my side of the family 😁 my grandma is slowly deteriorating from rheumatoid arthritis and parkinson's, and my mom wants all the generations to be able to spend another holiday with her while we can. I want the kids to be able to participate in my family too. And, it'll let me get through the late bee season with relative ease, I suppose. I'm not gonna lie, I take on a lot of the caretaking responsibility when the kids are around usually, but now my husband has to step up for once lol bc I'm busting my ass full time and won't have the mental or physical energy left over most days to do all I normally do for everyone. He's already suffering the experience of doing regular weekly chores alone and taking care of the dogs all day lolol.

We're also anxiously and concernedly waiting for word on the debt ceiling crisis. They've extended the decision date to June 5, but we won't know if my husband will stop receiving paychecks soon or not, and it's crushing everything with stress pressure. He makes more than me in his military retirement and we depend on his income for survival; I can't support us alone. If they cut military support and punish the average voter for no goddamn reason, per usual, we'll suffer significantly. He's even warned his ex wife that if things go south, we may not be able to afford having the kids visit for summer. We won't be able to feed them. We've already unsubscribed from any extra services like entertainment and delivery and such which we deemed not absolutely necessary, just in preparation. We've re-budgeted and cut out any possible extra spending and reduced allowances for gas and food. I'm hoping it's all a stupid pissing contest like it was about a decade ago, and things will somehow turn out okay. Hope beyond hope.

Time to go work for those pennies baby lol

[saijspellhart]

Wow things have been crazy,

Finished out my first week full time at my new job. I’m still nervous. And it’s still a bit overwhelming. But I’m learning and improving.

We had a pipe burst under our house and we were without water for nearly a whole week. Couldn’t shower, flush toilets, cook, nothing. Broke as fuck, and trying to get by without water is… very stressful. Had to buy jugs of water from the store to wash hands and ration it for other uses.

We managed to get that pipe fixed, but there is still a pipe in my shower that is busted and leaking. And honestly just a million other small home repairs that we cannot afford but need.

Got some family drama/stress happening. My eldest brother is being stupid about his diabetes and I’m worried about him.

Friend drama happening. (I don’t want to get into that. But is better now.)

On top of all that, still got my medical problems I’m always dealing with. I’m chronically and incurably sick. Got an autoimmune disease, coupled with mental health problems. Which means even my best functioning and most active days, are still the bottom of the barrel days for normal healthy people. But I’m trying so very hard.

Suffice to say, I’m dirt poor, barely scraping by, and there is a mountain of stress smothering me.

Which is why I’ve been quite absent, and not updating anything. I feel like an understuffed plushie, with seams made of cotton candy, and I’m slowly coming apart and struggling to hold my pieces together. But there’s not enough stuffing in me either so I’m lacking any structural support. So I just fall limply on the ground and come apart.

But there is good news

I made new friends at my new job. Real in person friends. The last time I had an in-person friend, who lived close by, I lost them to cancer. So this is huge for me. I’m extremely excited and happy. And I hope to spoil these new friends rotten. -tentatively have my fingers crossed that it’s good lasting friendship-

I won’t be dirt poor anymore! This new job will effectively triple my previous income. And it won’t be as physically demanding or exhausting as my previous job. I won’t risk another back injury like the one that had me bedridden for nearly a month this summer. Plus new job comes with benefits, vacation time and stuff. And the hours match my husband’s work hours better, so we aren’t struggling with opposite schedules anymore.

My husband and I’s sleep schedules finally align.

I will be able to get treatment for my illness again so my body does not continue to deteriorate! Huzzah!

We fixed the burst pipe under my house so I have running water again!

We’ll be able to afford small home repairs, and take the steps to return our house to a more liveable state. This will give me a more mentally positivity living conditions.

Eventually I’ll be able to see my therapist again. (Yay mental health love and care)

I’ll be able to afford some clothes, (it’s hard to find clothes from a thrift store when you are big and very tall.) shoes, gas for the car, car repairs, finish getting my drivers license, basically all the small things I did without because… very poor.

Just… there has been so much going on. And it’s been everything I have to hold myself together.

Thank you to everyone who has been patient with me. Thank you to everyone who has been so friendly and supportive. Thank you to everyone who helped me out when things really went to shit for me. (So many of you came through and leant a helping hand.)

I feel like I’m finally reaching a point in my life where I can put some stuffing back inside, and begin stitching myself back together with some proper thread.

Thanks, you beautiful people.

[acadianideals]

fuck it i’m gonna talk about my theories on feral ghoulification.

it depends.

two ghouls locked in the same dull small room, in the same situation, both will eventually go feral— if one doesn’t kill the other first. their bodies will deteriorate, their condition will worsen, radiation contained in the room will slowly eat away at them.

let’s say out of the two, one fought. kicking at doors, slamming their body against walls, fighting and fighting to get out. they would grow weak from the effort. tired. eventually they’d become so weak that they’d have to just give up, and let the radiation slowly eat away at them.

the other one of the two stays seated, calmly, against the wall. they watch their friend fight, and they almost want to say it’s useless. their breaths are torn and ragged, but at least they’re even. they are conserving their strength, conserving their energy, and so becoming feral is a much slower process. they’ll no doubt try to fight it. and maybe it’ll work for a bit. maybe it’ll prevent a total downfall for an hour. for a day. but eventually, they’ll find themselves unable to fight, and will fall victim to the same situation as their friend.

now, that’s just if they can’t go anywhere, or do anything. ghouls who are living a life much like their human counterparts can be fine. in areas where the radiation is tame, they can flourish. and although they have the gift to withstand it, even though normal exposure may actually help them heal, too much of anything is never a good thing. there’s a limit, a cap on their tolerance, and this limit depends on a few things. the area they’re in. their physical state, their mental state, the state of the people they surround themselves with, the amount of radiation they were exposed to for the initial ghoulification. and radiation may slowly chip away at them, it may damage their flesh, it may spoil their minds, but going ‘completely’ feral is incredibly unlikely from something so minimum.

tldr: if ya sit around doing nothing you’re as good as gone

[bix-bom]

This tim/masky ass song

The song sort of presents like an uncontrollable creature of the dark, starving, hungry, confused, living off of primal instinct. And yknow what !!! Masky/ Tim core !!

Here r more silly thoughts and analysis on this song and why it makes me think of tim and his oh so hated proxy other. vvvv

Time stamp [2:24-2:38]

"I hover two centimeters over your body.

I'm dripping. I'm dripping.

I'm dripping with dementia (You can not believe).

I'm excited and not in a good way.

I'm steadily spinning.

I'm spinning. I'm spinning.

Way too slow for you to perceive"

Those lyrics give off that sort of desperate, confused, scared, uncontrolled feeling that I imagine Tim feels. Not knowing where Tim starts and where Masky ends, not knowing if there is an end, or even a separation of the two. "I hover two centimeters over your body." Gives off the perspective of Masky dragging people into his acts, and all of the people Tim blames himself for hurting (Jay, Brian, Alex, Sarah, Jessica, Seth, etc.).

I think the next line "Im dripping with dementia you can not believe." Is like a perfect way to explain that fear i mentioned in the first paragraph, that fear of Tim losing himself or even finding too much of himself. That dull ache inside of him, telling him to let it take control, unsure of how to stop it, unsure if thats part of him or the operator. Hes his own sleep paralysis demon, his own night terror, his own monster under the bed, but he still cant tell if its actually him or not. Like dementia, forgetting his actions, or rather Maskys actions and only finding remnants of previous events, having to piece together a puzzle with multiple missing parts, dementia-like suffering paining his body.

"Im excited and not in a good way." Anxiety, clearly. Fear, deep fear, a fear so hand-shaking it nearly presents itself as excitement, and maybe for the creature inside of Tim it is. These constant conflicting feelings inside of him from a persona he cant even remember the actions of fighting to be freed from the poor headaching man it lives in.

"Im steadily spinning. Im spinning. Im spinning. Way too slow for you to perceive." I think this line can allude to a lot. Tims slow-fast decline as things got worse while working on set, his deteriorating mental state, the thing inside of him clawing its way out as Jay keeps pushing further into the story. I dont think anyone really noticed his pain, and for a while nobody knew Tim = Masky, so that line can easily allude to that. Another thing it can allude to is Tims past and his ever growing urges that reside in him still. Nobody knowing a thing about him or his childhood, but it all slowly unravels itself for everyone to see, but nobody noticed right? They all just thought he was another cast member victim to this whole thing. He was just another unfortunate member right? Yes he was but hes had a past with the operator hidden for a long time, and when it revealed itself it went unnoticed for too long, until it was too late.

Maybe ill do more of this kinda stuff some time if i feel like it but right neow the melatonins kicking my ass and i have GOT to zonk out.

I should really make a playlist. Making a tag for these kinds of posts as we speak.