#i dont know if having a time frame in mind makes it better or worse. im just sad

[wynterskies]

More talking to myself

[cheonstapes]

HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

But request time gurl!😘😌✊, so what about a nerd!Miguel\dom x nerdygirl!reader LIKE IMAGINE THE FLUFF AND THE SMUT THERE BOTH BE A BLUSH MESS but I feel like Miguel would take the lead and show he dom when doing it like dont blame me! 😭✊ like he still nerdy Miguel we all know the sweet boy but let make the nerd that friend s with the popular group and have a girlfriend who is nerdy!reader and which is a very shy person then Miguel is.

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

@cheonstapes: thank you sm lovelie🩷🩷 apologies it took so long but this was so fun to write and i love your mind. i hope you enjoy beautiful! also tumblr keeps fucking up my italics and bolds so im gonna add them on later!

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

who would’ve guessed the two biggest nerds on campus would’ve gotten together — especially when it was because of your shared interest in genetics. but to miguel’s friends, it was so sweet — a little cringe, but sweet. seeing that it had already been a year since you two started dating, the two of you not being able to hold a conversation without stuttering and blushed profusely was quite concerning.

every time you looked him in the eyes, your heart would suddenly beat a million times faster — face flushing, hands trembling as you try to come off as calm as possible. it was so embarrassing, you could cry just thinking about it. he had such pretty eyes hidden behind those thin frames, didn’t make it better that he would stare into your soul every time you talked.

but miguel wasn’t any better — in fact, he was worse. his whole friendship group being the talk of the college helped miguel to open up more, the persistent attention meaning he had to adapt to being surrounded by people. the incessant staring? that’s him trying to make himself less nervous by making you more nervous so you would stop looking at him so he could admire you without you realising — long, i know. but he loved how sweet you were, the way you were so deeply in love with him — just like he was with you.

walking out of your biology lecture, he speeds up walking to catch you on the othwr side of the room — gently slipping his hands into yours. you tense, looking up at his handsome face before relaxing — “ah, m-miggy!” he smiles so softly, wrapping his beefy arm around your waist. “hey, pretty — you finished for today?” his fingers squeeze the fat of your hips, pulling you into his chest as he leans against a nearby wall.

he always knew how to make you so fucking nervous, staring down at you like you were the centre of his world — which you in fact were. “yeah! i was just gonna go back to my dorm and study. would…well, it’s ok if you’re busy — but do you, maybe, wanna…” god, why is it so hard to ask your boyfriend to hangout! he knew what you wanted to ask, he just wanted to hear you say it. “do i wanna what, hm? i mean — i don’t have any plans later either, i was thinking of going to pete-“

“no!” a brief flicker of slight panic takes over your face, you refuse to be that much of a mess to the point where you can even ask your own boyfriend out. “i mean, would you like to come my dorm tonight? t-to study, obviously.” amazing job, girlfriend, amazing job. once again, he wore that stupidly handsome smirk — fingers kneading the soft flesh of your waist. “study? of course, babe — why didn’t you just ask?” prick.

miguel always said he found it easier to study when you were right next to him — as in, resting in between his legs as your head lay on his chest. “did you get the answer to number 8? i think i missed that lesson…” you tilt your head, looking up at him. you looked so cute with your little glasses as you studied, a small pout on your lips as you tap on his leg for him to help you out.

he was thinking a lot of things right now, and none of them were the answer for number 8. before he met you, miguel was always deep in his studies — head buried in a textbook every night. but now you’re his, he can’t think about anything else. the outline of your chest against your tight shirt, pert nipples straining against the fabric since you insist you feel better without a bra — he wasn’t a perv, but damn if you were making him feel like one.

“u-uh…i think — uhhhh…” he was really fucked. your cute little giggle and the way you shimmied around to sit on your knees, hands clutching his cheeks. “migs, you’re burning up! you ok?” he was no ok, not by a long shot. despite having so much attention on him simply because of the people he’s friends with, miguel was still very much a virgin. yeah, he’s jerked off before — but that was only after he met you. your entrance into his life awakened a part of his brain that he thought was forever stored away — and he did not know how to deal with it.

sex was something the two of you were yet to talk about, 2 years into the relationship and it was like you were kids about to have their first kiss. there were lingering touches here and there, but oh how badly he wants to feel your sweet pussy around him. “can… i touch you?” he could barely register the words that came out of his mouth before he takes in the way your face changes completely. the heat radiating from your cheeks could melt the arctic, that was the one thing you weren’t expecting to hear. at all.

of course, you were a virgin too — all in all saving yourself for miguel for when the time comes. you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. he looked so depraved already, panting softly — hair tousled from when he was laying down, you want him so, so bad. “u-uh, yeah — go ahead!” you didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but miguel didn’t care — a hand immediately trailing up your plush thighs, toying with the edge of your panties under your skirt. “you’re…you’re so pretty.” he could feel his hands shaking, heart pounding in his chest — the warmth of your skin and the small moans leaving your lips were fucking with his head.

the tender skin was so sensitive, causing your thighs to tremble under his touch. he didn’t expect you to be so sensitive. fuck, did he want to tease you for it, but he couldn’t talk — not when he was already about to bust when you haven’t even touched him yet. “mmm — m-miggy.. please..touch me.” you could tell he wanted to, he just didn’t know where to start. his fingers ran up your inner thigh, teasingly running over the small wet patch on your cute panties.

he felt like a newborn learning how to walk again, the rugged rhythm in which he was working your little clit showed how inexperienced he is — but you didn’t care, especially not when you yourself couldn’t even notice his lack of technique. he fully pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them to the side — there was a sharp in take of breath from him as he stared at your bare cunt, his bulge pressing harder aganst the mattress.

“g-god, baby, can… can i taste you, please?” miguel couldn’t believe how desperate he sounded, he had dreamed about eating your pretty, little pussy out for ever now, the thought of you denying him that now would break him. “y-yeah, fuck. please, miggy.” his tongue immediately latched onto your clit, swirling and sucking it into his mouth as his fingers probed your tight hole.

he knew you would need some extra prep to be prepared for taking him, so he made sure to make you feel as good as possible — he wasn’t about to let your first time be your worst. the fat of your thighs were tight around his head, holding him in place as he steadily fucked you with his tongue. for someone who was a virgin only 20 minutes ago, he sure knew how to work that tongue — your breathy moans breaking through the sloppy squelching noises of your wetness.

“migs…i — mmph!” the sensation was unknown but not unwelcome. a firm pressure in your tummy that felt like a dam about to burst all over your boyfriend’s face. miguel’s watched enough porn to know what that sound meant, reluctantly sitting up from his position between your legs to peer down at you — drooling cock bobbing between his thighs. he licked your arousal from his lips, shakily grabbing onto your legs to push them over his shoulders.

“baby, ‘m not letting you cum until you’ve had my cock in you — ‘s not how it works.” he felt like he was going insane, the sight of your pussy, so tantalisingly close to his length — the chubby tip poking against your entrance. you could only nod, you couldn’t argue with that — not when you’ve been waiting for this moment. upon getting your approval, he wrapped a beefy hand around his cock — smearing his pre-cum along your puffy folds.

he was so slow when he pushed into you, the sheer girth of him stretching your poor pussy thin. “fuckin’ hell, baby— s-so, so tight.” his strong hips pounded against your pelvis, your skin tinging a faint shade of red. your body was jostled against the headboard with every thrust, a thick rim of cream forming at his base. miguel was lost in the feeling of your cunt, drooling mindlessly against your neck as he rammed deep inside of you.

“m-miguel…!” the harder he fucked into you, the shakier your voice was — whiny moans and heavy grunts reverberated through your small dorm room. he couldn’t believe how good fucking you felt, your velvety walls gripping onto him like a life line. miguel was completely delirious, only letting incoherent mumbles — a bruising grip on your waist as he brings you back against his cock.

“ohhh, f-fuck…! iloveyou, so — shit, so much!” your pussy was so good, he didn’t even realised it slipped out — i love you. he really did, and in this moment — there was nothing else but the two of you, connecting so beautifully as you give yourselves to each other fully. he messily sucks on the skin just below your ear, simply grinding into your womb as his hand trails down your back — squeezing the flesh of your ass to pull you flush against him.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

you..you love him too? fuck. his hips stilled, gooey cum filling your cunt raw as he pours all of his love into you. miguel’s back heaved, his arms giving out under him as he falls on top of you — wrapping an arm around your waist as he carefully rubs your clit. his heart was soaring, smiling down at you as he fucked himself into overstimulation — determined to see you cum all over his cock.

“my pretty girl, you’re all mine — wanna see you cum. you gonna cum for me, yeah?” god, his voice was husky and deep — tickling your ear and sending tingles down your spine. your legs trembled, cunt spasming as it gushed out that clear liquid. it coated the sheets below you, splashing against his stomach — a low, gravelly moan leaving miguel as he filled you with his cum once again.

the two of you laid in silence for a beat, panting softly as he rested on your chest. one of your hands moved up to cup his face, picking up his glasses from your bedside stand — placing them on his face, albeit with wonkily but it matched that dopey grin on his face. “i swear to god, i’ve turned you into an animal, migs! you sure that was your first time?” giggling, you kissed his lips softly — nimble fingers brushing through his sweaty hair.

“guess i got a bit carried away, huh?” he sighed, softly rubbing your tummy. “‘s not my fault i’ve got the most beautiful, sexiest, most loving, caring, perfect, goddess of a girlfriend anyone could wish for.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

[eliima141]

Part two of Dragon!Price and Deer!Reader

Warnings!: nsfw, age gaps, breeding, two cock price, cubby/thick reader.

Im gonna try more fluff this time. :3

• Since Price is used to nesting and being around female dragons he would so try to get Reader to nest as well, mixing their cultures together.

• Price’s favorite positions are lazy positions. The two of you being comfortable together while he rams into Readers tiny little cunt. Making them easily cock drunk from how deep the angle was. Specially in spooning positions since he could have more control of your legs, being able to move them up and down to hit your gummy little spots.

•Price the type of guy to over do foreplay. Kissing Reader for at least 12 minutes before finally trailing kisses down readers neck and jaw, putting his giant leg between your legs to grind your cubby pussy against it. Taunting you as you leave a wet spot on the pant of his knee.

•Before he started courting you he was never much of munch. Yea sure he would give the laddies he did before you tons of pleasure but going down on them and lapping their folds with his tongue? He didn’t see the appeal. until Reader came into his forest, well How could he not? They were so sweet smelling and soft, even better is that they had a fat fucking pussy. Who in their right mind would refuse to be in between thighs like theirs? It was like trying to find a treasure between their thick folds, sucking on readers clit and tonguing her gooey hole. The satisfaction was unbeatable when he made Reader cum on his face for the first time. He was good with his cock and hands but being able to suck on Readers cunt was something new, like a new level being unlocked. Ever since then his beard has been getting more and more bleached every time he’s off of deployment. 141 teases him for it, his dark brown beard and mustache slowly getting streaks of red, orange and other colors into the mix around his mouth.

• Price can and will make you black out during sex, specially near his ruts, he gets more energy in to actually fuck you like a mad man. Gripping your hips before slamming you down onto his cock, readjusting and then shoving you into a mating press. And shit, his ruts are even worse, monthly ruts, lasting for about 3 days to a week. Since Reader starting dating price they had become a regular at the towns furniture store due to how many couches and beds they break on a monthly. The poor wall having dents, scratches and holes where ever they place the bed frame. Whatever at least they know what room to not put their kids in. Might as well sound proof the place due to how loud they fuck.

•Price has a breeding kink no doubt. First time he ever got to touch you he imagined what you would be like pregnant, such a tiny thing waddling around with a giant belly full of little dragon and deer hybrids.

•I dont think dragon price would be one to dabble in much aftercare. Washing your little body after scenting and marking you all over? Why would he do that? He already does his best to make sure you stink of his scent. Cumming in your lotion to have a tad of that scent, rubbing his scent glands over any part of you at any given second, when your not around spilling your clean clothes onto the bed, then instantly laying on them, making sure he it had been a few hours since he showered. But price would care for you, not leaving you cold and alone, cuddling you. almost whining when getting up to get you some fruit and water maybe some pain killers depending on the type of session.

[decodedlvr]

As long as I’m with You

Steve Harrington x You (short)

Summary: Steve wakes up to another bad night you’ve had this week

Warnings: hurt/comfort, talks of poor physical and mental health, doctors, suicidal ideation, medication use, drug use, chronic health issues, BPD if you squint, disabilities, use of the word “girl” x times, negative self talk, mentions of sex, angst, fluff~~

This is based off my own experiences and inspired by my pal Morgan’s version; feel free to check hers out

Tick tick tick

The clock strikes 12 and then 1, 3, 5am in the morning, no sleep no rest it’s an every day cycle. The same shitty cycle.

It’s a new year, but not a new you.

Sitting in your walker in front of the excruciatingly bright television screen, high as a kite, everything in existence running through your mind 100 mph, sometimes the weed helps the pain. Sometimes it induces it or even makes it worse. Right now it’s doing nothing for you. Looking over at your loved one sound asleep. You don’t want to bother him with your whines or crying. So you just sit there silence, tears rolling down your cheeks; while you watch some bullshit on YouTube.

Sniff Sniff

“Baby?”

Shit.

“..yea?” you say in a whispered tone

“Are you ok? what’s wrong?”

“Ah, you already know”, you’ve used that line probably over a million times

Steve comes along your side expecting a few dried tears, but his eyes widen when he’s sees the collar around your shirt bitten, snot dribbling down your mouth and throat, crouching down, he lies his head onto your thigh looking up at you, “Talk to me sweetheart”

“No.”

“Hey, I know you’re hurting”—

“GOOD FOR YOU! Congratulations you know I’m hurting, you know I’ve been hurting for fucking years. I’m glad you’ve acknowledged it unlike some people”you sniffle getting up in a hurry to take a piss as he follows with sad eyes leaning against the door frame

“I’m fucking tired, I’m so goddamn exhausted nobody will ever know what I’m dealing with!”, you say wiping your ass not bothering to wash your hands, “I can’t do anything I can’t run, I can’t jump, can’t go to the stupid, fucking grocery store without one of those motorized carts.. my back hurts, my fucking knees are throbbing, stupid fucking nerves won’t calm down FUCK! It’s not like I can get in the bathtub to calm my muscles down. Nothing is helping! No medication, no PT, no injections, no nothing! Why?? am I just resistant to any source of help or treatment? I-I can’t even lay in the goddamn bed to sleep. That’s all I have left is rest!! What is rest!? I don’t know what the hell that even is”

“I know baby I know”—

“NO YOU DONT STEVE, all you know is what you see. I wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy, my worst enemy to feel what I feel. That’s how bad it all hurts. The most evil, sick and twisted person in this world, I would never wish this upon. I just..”, getting dizzy you collapse on the bed sobbing into your own hands, then eventually into Steve’s shoulder as he rocks you, tears spilling from his own eyes—

“Nobody cares, nobody wants to help me. nobody cares unless I’m rich and can afford to give them any and ALL the things off my back, but I can’t. Even with the money you make it will never be enough to help the poor girl who’s too young to have any kind of issue. It’s “all in my head” I’m just fucking crazy. I could break my own neck and still be told it’s only from anxiety. Nobody cares just”—

“I care” he exhales

“It doesn’t matter if you care, all your care is useless, all your help is worthless to me because it gets me nowhere. Nobody’s love and care gets me nowhere. It’s nothing all but fucking false hope. Don’t you get that? None of you still to this day seems understand that. Stop praying for me to get better. It’s never going to happen. I can’t take it anymore.. I just wanna die! All I wish for is to die but, I can’t even have that. It’s like all of you want me here, to live and suffer for the rest of my life for y’all, it’s not fair, fuck that”, your trembling, body in fight or flight

“Don’t say that, you know I’d do anything to take your pain away”

“It doesn’t matter what you’d do because you’re not a doctor. You’re not a professional, you can’t help me get better.. sucks to hear but it’s the truth Steve..fuck”—

Steve’s really trying not to beat himself up over your words, he knows you’re in pain, it comes from a place of anger, frustration and fear

“I have all these pain medications I could easily take all at once, so I’ll never have to wake up in this position ever again. Why can’t I do it huh? I could end right here right now you never have to suffer again, but I just d-don’t; If anything, I’m the most selfless person for staying alive for YOU just so I can be alive but in pain all over again for YOU!”, your tone getting higher and higher in pitch

“I-I’m sorry.. I wish I knew the right words to say baby”, he’s trying his best to stay strong for you

“You’ve got to be sick of me, tired of me. All I do is cause more money to come out of your pockets, more exhaustion, more burdening, more crying, more everything bad for you. You already deal with your own shit. I do nothing but make your own mentality worse, hell you’re making your own self worse being with a person like me. A broken and useless excuse of a human being. You deserve somebody who can go hiking with you, go to the beach, travel with, who can do the bare minimum. Can’t even fuck you properly—

“STOP! Stop that right now” he shouts

You freeze because he’s never raised his voice at you, atleast not on purpose at such a vulnerable time

“I hate it too. You know it hurts me to know that you hurt and I’m sorry that I can’t take the pain away from you. My sweet, sweet girl I’m so sorry that nobody has given you the chance to hear your voice, to help heal you..but I’m gonna make you the same promise I make you almost every single night. As long as I’m with you, I will try my best with all my power to make it a little bit more bearable for you to be here, and I am so grateful that you are still here and choose to be here with me for us to be together. I know you hurt, but as long as you’re with me, I’m going to do my best to put a smile on your pretty face, beautiful sunshine of a smile because you’re my sunshine.. y-your smile gives me life did you know that?”

You nod. He tells you all the time

“I- I’m tired for wishing to feel ok for my birthdays, every Christmas. All the shirts and posters you got me for Christmas? I haven’t even touched them yet, you know why? Because the selfish person in me doesn’t give a fuck about none of it. The only thing I care about and want and NEED is pain relief and that’s too much to ask for isn’t it? Apparently wanting to be better in the world it’s too much to ask for”

“You deserve to feel better”, he says while his hand travels up your back to rub your tense neck, “You deserve to be free from all of this and I can’t give that to you. You’re not selfish baby you’re hurting. I love you for you. I knew what I was signing up for, and if I didn’t want that I wouldn’t be here right now with you. I know the sacrifices Ill have to make, the tears I’ll have to shed, the strength it’ll take me to pick you up when you’re down, but I fell in love with you, how you are, and who you are”

“Who are you kidding Steve, you don’t even know who I am. The real me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I wish you met me when I wasn’t sick then maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed out a-and.. and,” you start sobbing again, it’s all too overwhelming

“Hey, hey look at me, no. I met you at the right time. You need me just as much as I need you. You may not think you’re worth nothing but you’re worth everything to me. Yeah you have a good and bad days..—

“I’ve had nothing but bad days for the past few months Steve”-

“I know, I see it, I hear it and I witness it, I may not can feel it, but at the end of it all, you still love me. You’re still here. You still want to cook for me. You still get up to brush your teeth and I’m so proud of you for still trying to care for yourself. That’s the biggest job you’ll ever have, and it’s been a very hard job hasn’t it?

You nod, as he nods with you

“Yeah, it has, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you. You’re my girl, you deserve so much and as long as I’m with you, I will try every day, every hour, every second or minute, to make sure you know how loved, how great and how amazing you are. How great and amazing you’re doing for yourself and for me. How strong you are”—

—“im tired of having being strong all the time”, interrupting him

“I know you are. You are so strong for being on this earth, even when you don’t want to be. I wouldn’t ask for anybody else, you’re it for me always. Will you continue to let me try to make it better for you every day? To take care of you?”, he squats in front of you, cupping your wet cheeks, kissing your forehead

“But Stevie.. you know you’re getting your own hopes up because nothing you do helps either and I feel like a piece of shit for saying that because”—

“I know what you mean, you don’t have to be sorry. I understand you may not have hope but I do. All my Hope goes towards you and it always will. You are the most important thing in my life. I’m not gonna give up on you, on me or on us, ok sunshine?”

..”okay”, you repeat rubbing your temples

“Head hurt, darling?”

“yes”

“From crying too hard?”

You nod, looking away in shame, “It’s okay, I’ll get your Migrane cap from the freezer and i’ll set your pillows up how you like, just sit tight”, he says it standing then pausing at the doorway, looking over his shoulder, “I love you”

“luv you—

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you” he exclaims

“I said love you gosh.. shut up”, you barely crack a smile

That was enough to get him through the rest of the night.

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

Making ends meat

I had a bunch of small epiphanies today but I forgot most of them. But I remember one I had from Alastor today.

I was thinking what his life might have been if he was alive. Guy lived during an interesting and dangerous time period. He was born with only 45 states, and 3 states were added in his preteen years. Died knowing only 48 states.

Lives through Titanic sinking, WW1 in his late teens. Alcohol was prohibition is whole adult life. Woman got the right to vote, The great depression, KKK was huge and must been terrifying for Alastor is mixed. His mixed race may prompted the "face for radio" as public rather keep his mixed ethnicity out of view.

So I'm trying to picture what his life must been life. I assume his first murder was his abusive father or avenging Mimzy. Mimzy dying first in the 20's while Alastor in the 30's. I assume Mimzy died by abusive lover or a fan she rejected. Mimzy death kickstarting his serial killer "Dexter" style killing of selecting bad men.

But one thing I couldn't quite figure out was how Alastor got into cannibalism. I mean, sure Alastor not a solid frame of mind. But some of his behavior can at least be understood. Like, what point did Alastor was like, "You know what, I'm gonna eat this mother fucker." instead of disposing the evidence because I dont think its for shits and giggles.

Then it dawn to me why.

I assume Alasor hasn't been an active killer for too long in his life. I don't imagine him killing in his teens and right at the start of adulthood. I say about his late 20's, so started murdering in the late 1920s-his death of the early 1930's. Which, makes avenging Mimzy death seem much more likely.

So his first few years of killing was just that. The cannibalism didn't start happening because....

wait for it...

The great depression. Alastor so detached and desensitized by his carnage by now. He killed multiple dozens by now. He was probably disposing the evidence by feeding gators or burying thinking how it was a damn shame to waste such fresh meat. He can't remember the last time he even ate meat that so fresh and enough of it. Then...the light bulb went on inside his head as he looked at the 200 pounds of fresh meat at his feet and his stomach rumbled with hunger.

I believe Alastor worked in radio until he died. He was too good at it be fired. He has the charmia and the voice. So he managed to keep his job. So Alastor wasn't worse off compare to his neighbors...but he wasn't well off either when it came to money. He was of mixed race when prejudice was spreading like wildfire, and considered almost patriotic. Alastor pay was substantially less then his peers at the radio station. As much as as he chided about that, he still have a job, a respected job, a job that was also his passion. He was better off than most.

...But money was still tight. It just not as tight for him compare to neighbors of the similar 'breed'. Money was spent on essential and making them stretch. A slab of desired cut of fresh meat, didn't make the essential list, nor its something that can be stretched well.

Now, Alastor has 200 pounds of fresh meat of every and any cut he wanted right at his feet. He was amused with himself when the thought first came. It was a ridiculous passing thought. Then he became disgusted with himself when...when the passing idea started to be considered seriously. He didn't indulge in these obscure thoughts.

But he kept murdering. Kept having to disposing those bodies. Such a waste! The thoughts keep floating in mind, making him curious... He inner voice is reasoning him why he should pursue into indulging these. The further into the Great depression with no end in sight, the reasons became so much stronger.

He took a cut of meat he generally enjoy off the body to try. His soul already damn with the body count he has. Can't really be damned more. He wasn't a cannibal for long in his life, but it lasted a handful of years before he came to his gruesome end.

...and that's my idea and reason how he became a cannibal.

[yoonyia]

ok guys, is anyone's favorite enderverse book children of the mind

because I'm reading it and it's just

bad

like the writing quality is slightly worse

like the wording and structure itself

but also I feel like im talking to an AI

it just remembers stuff wrong and then like rehashed everything ever so slightly but not in a subtle recon way its just flat out stating information that's contradictory

like in the first 2 chapters I nearly died of a stroke because miro said "long years spent with a crippled body" or something along those lines

and I'm sorry if I'm getting the timeline a bit wrong here

miro got hurt at the wall

then got treatment for a few days or months (let's say 3 months to be generous but it really just sounded like 4 to 6 days)

then he stopped getting better

and let's say he spent another 3 months being crippled with his family (which he didn't, he said he didn't but let's just say he lost track of time) then he left on a 3 week space trip then he came back and the time between when he came back and when he got his body back is probably about 6 months (or less cause the pacing of orson Scott's writing, if there isn't a wide jump in time over weeks usually goes rather slowly or like day by every other day)

so even being incredibly generous it couldent possibly have been years, plural

giving him what I think is an extra 6 months still only makes it 1 year

and I know that even a year can be long and it can effect you completely yes but the writing is making it sound like when miro got his body back he also got back his youth??? (which I guess is true cause he said he had the body of a 90 year old and there was stuff about Jake having the build of a 20 year old so when orsonscottcard is referring to youth it isn't just age) but it's framed as if he reversed several years of his life???

not so much in xenocide, in xenoxide it sounded like he's having the worst few months of his life and is being an angsty adolescent about it (which he is and boy is he justified for it)

but in children of the mind it sounds like he got jaded and was fundamentally changed to be miserable?

he was always not very happy I dont know where this sudden simplification of his character came from

all the characters feel like 2 steps removed from what they actually are (except for ender but I'll get into that)

valentine being so uncomfortable with this child version of her also feels off

like I get it, it's supposed to be weird but her first reaction and her continued reaction has such a disconnect that dosent feel like a development and more like a sloppy paste over that's being stapled on top of the old and holding on with hopes dreams and memory loss

because her reaction initially was "ender you poor soul, you kept with you the one thing no one in this world could ever be, perfect morality that you compared you me and everyone against it" and ofcourse she was weirded out but it felt more weird because she was perfect rather her being a val

like she felt sad about it sure but less betrayed and disturbed and more sorry? sorrow? disappointed? understanding?

and like that can develop into being disturbed sure but we don't see that?

and it feels out of character for Val to be so disturbed while saying she's not

there's so much telling

but like yes it's showing us she's shuddering yea but it's like shoving "she's scared" down your throat with people EXPLAINING why she would feel that way

I remember when I first speedran through the series that I felt the children of the mind was the weakest (mostly because I couldent remember shit from it) and while reading children of the mind thought the writing degraded starting from xenocide

but I think for xenocide the writing didn't actually get worse at all it was just a complicated book with a lot of moving elements that just makes it harder to write and read

and reading back on it it was done pretty well even while being a lot of things all at once, it felt like I was actually in the crisis situation with everything slowly pulling together

but children of the mind just feels wrong

like it was slapped together

it feels like it was orson scott card loosing interest in the story and doing all his favorite story beats and relationships he wanted to happen and rushing them in

but then he kept talking and found out he had more to say so it's just awkward

there's so much romance in this book that's such a sudden shift to the duo and partnership aspect when it so far have been

children in a school, soldiers

a family

a community of ramen

duo love interests???? (with a love triangle in there for miro??)

like the entire series so far have been focused more on the collective and how 1 person effects them

and as the books go on that one person gets less important then eventually he's not needed anymore which make the story less decentralized, WHICH SHOULD MAKE IT MORE EXPANSIVE BUT IT DOSENT it feels like we got to a point where the issues are so big and complicated that no one person can solve it and we have to give everyone the attention and then we're sucked back into a centralized perspective between like 3 groups

it feels like a simplification

there's nothing inherently wrong with it it just dosent follow the message or the flow or the plot of the other books

it kinda grabs you by the collars and shoves it into the plot of dirt and hope you don't realize it was actually sand before

before the issue felt real

even if one thing was solved there were a hundred other things that needed to be finished

and when smaller things or huge things get solved the tension eases a bit (which it should) but I feel like the urgency disappears

like there is still a time limit (rather artificial one but it does add tension to the story) where they can't take all the humans off of lustania before the fleet comes

but there's no impending doom there was before

yes there Is a shorter list of things that needs fixing

but there's also an ever closer deadline and the big problems that most people or worried about aren't solved yet

but the story dosent have the urgency to make it feel real

I love peter and Wang mu in an isolated bubble

but in the story they kinda go a bit off the rails and kinda deus ex machina things

and Wang mu dosent care about the people in lustania enough to share the impending doom and peter 2 is stressed out and miserable but he's that always so it dosent show a heightened sense of anxiety or tension

he was also born yesterday I feel like the book thinks it has to explore what he us before putting him in a proper contextual emotion or motive

which it does but it's but it could have been done better

it feels like a first draft

I'm working on the rewrite now because I genuinely want to (not make the story better persay) but atleast more consistent within themselves because it's getting disjointed

I dont know tell me your thoughts

[mummer]

hellooooooo smart person!!! i have two asoiaf questions to ask you. so i was reading adwd, the chapter with ellaria sand making her big speech (can i take the skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night?) which was literally one of the best monologues ever. but i think it frames justice in a bitter, bloodthirsty manner. the martells are completely understandably pissed off by the lannisters, is george saying in this instance, even though vengeance is good (emotionally), it’ll screw everyone over? and does this apply to the starks/boltons too? we have so many good speeches on war and justice: broken man, this one, bathe in bolton blood, the mummer’s farce is almost over, etc. but they do conflict. is that the point? justice is better not pursued? or needs to be thought out?

ALSO. your vibe is that you’re a theon enjoyer. so i was wondering where his story is. it’s about identity, yes? but who is he? he’s not a greyjoy, i don’t think, he seems so disconnected from that violent culture, but he’s no stark. i think he wants a family, but the north will never accept him as a stark. so what’s theon’s purpose? i’m so sorry for talking so much but i always love your answers

ok ok ok. anon ily. i might answer the theon one in a separate post if i have time; im gonna try to be as brief as possible but i am gonna put this under a readmore because you touched on uhhh probably the central question of the whole series lol! in fact you could probably write a phd thesis about violence and justice in asoiaf lol, but lets see if i can boil it down quickly maybe not clickbait???? (i lied, this got egregiously long)

ok ok ok some disclaimers up front. I personally am probably a bigger pacifist than most people lol, so this may colour my take somewhat. secondly spoilers but my answer is that i dont think the series actually has a solid answer to the question of retribution/vengeance. my favourite kinds of art are pieces that ask questions that can't be answered. and: is violence ever acceptable? can it be used as a means to a good/just end? <- is like, a hugely unsettled matter in the entire human experience. this is a question we all ask ourselves at some point. it's even more complicated and tangled in real life! is the death penalty ever okay? how can we wage just wars? how do we protest subversively? can people be rehabilitated? even: can we change? that's what politics are all about! the q of violence is something i am constantly thinking about and am still unsure of my answers! most people are!

what asoiaf does so well is pick at the idea of violence in about a hundred different ways and though a hundred different lenses. not all violences are equal! of course not! it is very clear about this, as well as that said violence is not always physical, is most often institutional. and justice.... well justice is completely incoherent in this world!!! the first chapter opens with the protagonist executing a man we as readers KNOW did nothing morally wrong! the thing with asoiaf is that there is always an added nuance to challenge you when you think you've made up your mind. someone shows a glimmer of humanity, or else descends into unexpected cruelty, or else complicates the narrative. there is always a 'but'.

for example: take robb's war for ned. he is trying to avenge his father, save his sister. okay, that's noble. that's just. you want to root for that. BUT: their warpath endangers hundreds of thousands of smallfolk, not to mention the thousands of innocents in their armies forced to fight one another and die for the sake of one man. how could that be worth it? BUT: tywin's army was desolating the riverlands anyway, so wouldnt it be a net good to defeat them? BUT: protecting smallfolk was never their priority; their 'justice' is only for the highborn; politically, an independent north would probably not be any better or worse for the peasantry. a tree of hanging women who lay with lions. "the north remembers", when it's first used on page, is not a joyous rally; it's robb reflecting bitterly that harrion karstark cannot openly forgive him for killing rickard, or risk losing face. rickard, who was killed for killing lannisters, because the lannisters killed his sons-- because robb waged war, because the lannisters killed ned! a poisoned cycle that can't end, an ideology defined by war, remembrance and loyalty as its own sort of sickness.

the thing about violence as justice in asoiaf is that it is never portrayed as revelatory. it's not... like... cool lol. did tywin deserve to die? idk, maybe. but this does not lift a weight off tyrion's shoulders. it doesn't feel like he won. this is something all characters must bear and grapple with. arya in particular is rich with this and that could be its own essay ofc. at its simplest, though, we have sandor. he killed her friend. a child. do child-murderers deserve to die? a lot of people in the world would say yes. but when he is at her mercy, when he is literally begging for her to kill him, she can't. it's too much. when dany orders the disembowlment of the slavers, she questions the choice internally. does torture have utility, here? what is it worth? ("But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood... Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.") again, i dont think the narrative has a straight or easy answer, which is why she's asking at all! if these answers were easy there wouldnt be a book. or things like jon's babyswap, which i consider its own kind of violence— but it is born from an unflinching desire to avoid worse violence. so... can it be just, then? theon murders the miller's boys. little kids. does he deserve to be punished? yeah, right? but then we are confronted with reek, and the empathy in the reader flinches, says: nooooo not like that!!!! and then feels bad for ever thinking it! so if he can change, did he ever deserve to die? when joffrey dies-- joffrey!!!-- there is very little catharsis to be found. ("He has Jaime's eyes. Only he had never seen Jaime look so scared. The boy's only thirteen.") the prose focuses on his purple face, his futile desperation to breathe. the way he looks like a child, because he is.

and then there are all the logistical, logical ends that need to be dealt with when seeking retribution. you got back at someone: great. now their family or allies or loved ones will get back at you, and on and on it will go forever until no one remembers the original injustice (see: the brackens and the blackwoods). now there is a power vacuum, or a counterrevolution, now the crops have burned and everyone is starving, now there are orphans. so... was it worth it? this is generally never the intent, but none of this can be sidestepped, either. a large point: no matter how justified in war you may feel, these consequences must still be borne. whether they are worth it in the end is your decision to make.

so we come to ellaria, with no clearer answer than what we started with. and i agree, it's one of my favourite quotes too. the endless question of: what do we do with what has been done to us? the violence has already been done, there is no way to bring someone back, there is no retribution. the victims are dead and so is their killer. and yet it is a hollow justice, because nothing has changed. women like elia are still bartered as political pawns and discarded. again, there is no coherent justice in westeros. it is only by chance that gregor died anyway. the systems of power are still functioning, and the aberration of that is felt. the sand snakes are grieving, but they are grieving the only way they know how. oberyn walked past obara's weeping mother when she picked up a spear. the only language in westeros is violence, the only power in blood. well, it's better than being powerless, right? .....right?

there is no good option. doran picks a side, having agonized over it for decades. this was not easy for him! the martells are understandably pissed off by the lannisters— of course— but... who is left to seek justice from? tywin is dead. robert is dead. aerys and rhaegar are dead. gregor is dead. amory lorch is dead. they could war against/kill cersei... i guess. jaime, maybe? myrcella? tommen? great, what would be the point? will their deaths feel good, emotionally, to the martells? or will they just feel hollow, like so many scenes of retribution in the series?

so i might favour ellaria's vision-- peace and submission, anything just to survive, to avoid hurting people. but this has its own very very obvious problems! pacifism is not a get out of jail free card lmao! "war will come, whether we wish it or not," obara says. it's highly possible this move would be seen as a sign of "weakness", and would only invite worse violences from the ruling power. again— the misery of this world is systemic, not individual. that's what feudalism is. that's what power is. it requires violence to maintain. but violence is also almost always required to challenge or protest it. so, ok. fuck. fuck! how can a world like this be borne? and how can we change it?

god i wish i knew!!!!!! — george rr. martin, 2011

[bellelovesyou]

B-SIDE EVENT WINNERS

Please DM me to claim your prizes!

First Place - @sakkurify

I wanna frame this mb and put it in my room omg omg. beomgyu has never looked better wtf i love him sm. This mb fit the theme so so well. You really went for the theme of the album and I love it so much.

Second Place - @i-kiioras

I really don't know what kind of search query you would have to find matching photos for this song. I gave you this song bc i knew only you could pull it off lmaooo. You actually blew my mind I don't even have words to describe it.

Third Place || 1 2 || - @wintaecafe/@silvrrz and @bunchofroses07

1 - I really liked the colors you used! The gif you edited is so so cute, I love the the cupid! It really adds to the theme of your mb so much! This mb looks like how mbs look in my head before I actually make them and they turn out 10 times worse lmaooo.

2 - When I say that I want you to put lyrics in the locs THIS is what I mean. Everyone was skimping out on the locs lmaooo. I want u to put the whole verse in the locs. Also i <3 yuta,,,,,, moving ON. This mb really gave off that skyscraper vibe so THANK YOU!

Dont forget to DM me!

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO JOINED ♡

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Fifteen

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Malpractice, Lying, Realization, Flashbacks, suspicion, Murder

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

“I've lost the plot. I'm the unreliable narrator of my own story.” Will sits across from HANNIBAL and DR.Y/N L/N, who stand behind a white line on the stone floor. Despite the defiance  Will showed Hannibal when he last visited, he is more civil. He appears wrung-out. Haunted. “I'm trying to place myself somewhere in the frame of my mind and I have no bearings. No landmarks to tell me who I am.”

“You have an incomplete self. We are who we are in the now and we are the sum of our memories. There are pieces of you... you can't see.” I say gently, Will chews on his words before muttering: “I'm afraid to see. I don't know who I am anymore and I'm afraid.” 

“Without remembering, you're seized by something imagined. It has the brilliant immediacy of a childhood fantasy and is just as real.” Hannibal says, Will hangs his head, trying to contain his emotions. “I don't know what's worse. Believing I did it or believing you did it... and did this to me.” He finally glances up at Hannibal, eyes brimming. I look at Will with a soft sad expression. I have to keep the act that i believe Hannibal is innocent in all of this.  But its hard when you know the person you care about most is hurting.

Reminds me of when i was young….Mother always said i was the little butterfly who knew too much. Thinking back to where and who i am now versus what i did and who i was then is deafening. Not because i was a teenager, because quite frankly i was a very emotionally and mentally mature person back then. But Because of my actions. I would’ve done anything to protect my Mother before i knew what she was really doing. Maybe thats why I grew attached to Abigail Hobbs….Because she reminded me of well Me. 

“Hannibal's not responsible, Will. And neither are you. We have to get to the truth of what happened. It's the only way you can move forward.” I lie, Hannibal is at Fault but will he ever admit it to anyone other than me and Will, Highly Unlikely.. Will forces himself to confront despite overwhelming emotion. “I felt so betrayed by you. All that felt real to me was the betrayal. I trusted you. I needed to trust you.” Will says to Hannibal, if i was him- lets not even go there. “You can trust me.” Hannibal says With earnest. Will winces, feeling the burn of wanting to believe Hannibal. “I'm... very confused.”

“Of course you are. Ideas and perceived experiences have the same effect on our minds as tossing a rock into a pond. It all ripples. Just dont throw the rock at the glass house of our hearts. It will shatter.” I say softly,  my voice barely audible. “Don't trust blindly.” Will nods slowly, understanding my words. He stands up and walks away, leaving Hannibal alone with his thoughts. “Let us help you, Will. Let me help you.” Will clenches, holding his feelings at bay as he admits: “I need your help.” 

He's finally overcome with the emotion and can no longer hold back the tears now running down his cheeks. I watch helplessly, desperate to make him feel better, deperate to hold him. But Hannibal, Hannibal watches curiously...

BSHCI - CELL BLOCK - DAY-

Will is led in shackles down the long corridor by a GUARD and a NURSE. Will's head is hung low, clearly still emotional from the confessional meeting with Hannibal and Y/N.

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

The door CLANGS shut and the guard and nurse step away. Will weeping quietly as the guard's

footsteps recede down the hall and end with a CLOSED DOOR. Once alone, Will's weeping ceases almost immediately. His face going cold and calculating... a game is afoot. And Y/Nis his player….

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - WAITING ROOM - DAY-

BEDELIA DU MAURIER lost in pensive thought as she waits. Finally, Hannibal OPENS the door. “This is a pleasant surprise.” Hannibal says with a soft urprised expression. “May I come in?”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY-

Dr. Du Maurier ENTERS, followed by Hannibal. She takes in the space. She smiles faintly, something clearly on her mind. “Please. Sit.” She doesn't. “I won't be staying long.”

“I'm curious. What couldn't wait until our next session?” Hannibal says as he looks at her with curiosity. “We don't have a next session. I'm no longer your therapist.” Bedelia says bluntly, she knows he can take the hit. Hannibal pauses, an imperceptible wound. “May I ask why?” Hannibal asks with a clenched jaw. “I reached the limit of my efficacy. I don't believe I can help you.”

“Are you giving me a referral?” Hannibal asks wry, “I'm not. I'm just ending our patient - psychiatrist relationship.” Bedelia says, uncomfortable in the postion he has put her in. “You tried to end it before.” Hannibal points out, he studies her carefully. 

“I'm grateful for your persistence with engaging me after my attack. However, in light of all that's

happened with Will Graham, I've begun to question your actions. Particularly, what you might do with Dr. Y/N L/N. And Particularly, your past actions with regards to me. And my attack.” She says calmly and within reason. “Did you share these questions with Jack Crawford?” 

“No. Nor am I going to. I would look just as guilty as you. And perhaps that's what you intended.” Bedelia says with fear softly entering her eyes. Though it might have always been there when it came to Hannibal. “What exactly am I guilty of?” He asks with a slight tilt of the head. “Exactly, I can't say. I had to draw a conclusion from what I glimpse through the stitching of the person suit you wear. And the conclusion I've drawn is... you are dangerous.” She says with trembling confidence. She knew better than to tell anyone what she knew he was capable of. 

“I'm sorry you feel that way.” She studies him one last time, then: “Please don't come to my home again. I'll show myself out.” She moves to the door, opens it. Before she steps through: “I'm resuming Will Graham's therapy.”

“To what end? Besides your own.”

“He asked for my help.”

“Then maybe you deserve each other.” And with that she leaves. 

BAU - MORGUE - DAY-

Roland Umber’s body lies on a slab. BEVERLY speaks across it to JACK CRAWFORD. JIMMY PRICE and BRIAN ZELLER are there. Me and Hannibal are there as well, silent and observing. “His name is Roland Umber. Has the same profile as the other victims. Lived alone, disappeared from home, large dose of heroin in his system.” Jimmy says as Zeller leans forward to see around Hannibal. “Only major difference is the eyelet punctures are all uniformly torn.” Zeller says as he indicates the torn punctures on Roland Umber's body.

 “This victim wasn't unstrung. He was ripped from his moorings.” Jack says with crossed arms, I stand beside Hannibal, calmly gazing at the body.“Whatever his imperfection, it was enough to aggravate the killer into tearing him down.” Hannibal says gazing at the body with curiosity leaking out of the essence of his soul. “He was discarded in a tributary four hundred miles away from anything that feeds into the dam where the first victims were found.” Bev says with slight confusion.

“Like dandelion seeds, casts bodies in every direction but his own.” Leaning forward, Zeller finds Hannibal is in his way again. Hannibal steps back and bumps into Beverly. I lean on the empty morgue fridges with arms crossed. This body is different, I dont think he was an Imperfection at all…

“We know they're dead when they hit the water. Their lungs are dry. But the buffeting in the current causes so many postmortem injuries, you can't tell them apart from the ones they got when they were alive.” Zeller says as Beverly gently guides Hannibal to a more strategic spot.

“There may be trace evidence preserved in the craquelure.” Hannibal points out, i think he likes playing the role of my partner, or more so the role of Will Graham. “The what?” Jack asks confusedly.  Hannibal points to a series of TINY CRACKS IN THE RESIN.

“It's French for the cracks that appear on an oil painting as it drys and becomes rigid with age. Cracks are not always weaknesses. A life lived accrues in the cracks.” I say for Hannibal, polietly dumbing it down. He gazes down upon me with a slight smirk. Like he was proud or amused.

 “Could be something in there. Fiber, debris, might help track where the bodies were before they got dumped.” Jack is still puzzled by:“What do the victims have in common?” Jack asks as Beverly displays the victims' PHOTOGRAPHS on a table. “What if it isn't what they have in common. What if it's what makes them... different.” Bev suggests. 

On the table, the victims’ PHOTOGRAPHS -- and Roland Umber's --are arranged as Will and I did to feature the victims as --“Each of these people has a slightly different flesh tone. It could be like a color palette.” Bev says, it causes me to smirk.  I know where she’s going, i with the confirmation of Will, created the fucking theory  Jack, Jimmy and Brian stare at Beverly, not sure where she's going. But Hannibal is. He nods, thinking.

“The color of our skin is so often politicized, it would almost be refreshing to see someone revel in the aesthetic for aesthetic's sake. If it weren't so horrific, We're supposed to see color, Jack.

That may be all this killer has ever seen in his fellow man. Which is why it's so easy for him to do what he does to his victims.” Hannibal says, “Which is why there will be a lot more bodies on his color palette.”

“A fascinating insight, Ms. Katz. It's as if Will Graham himself were here in the room with us.”

Jack turns his scrutiny from the photos to Beverly herself. “Yes, it is.”

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Hannibal stands over Roland Umber's body. At the back of the room, Price and Zeller are busy at work. Hannibal swings a metal arm holding a magnifying lens and asks: “May I?”

“Knock yourself out.” Zeller shrugs. His eyes drift back to the CRACKS IN THE RESIN-COATED SKIN. A notion floats behind his eyes and takes purchase. He leans in and very inconspicuously SMELLS the craquelure on the corpse’s wrist without drawing anyone's attention. His nostrils flare as he draws its scent. The craquelure is almost as if an alien landscape. Suddenly, the chemical compounds that create the scent become VISIBLE, forming TINY SPROUTS in the

cracks of the resin that begin to grow.

Hannibal stands upright after being bent over the body, looking through the magnifying lens. He considers the craquelure of the corpse and smiles almost imperceptibly

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

the THERAPY CAGES to find Hannibal running his shoe over the line of tape on the floor. Will sits on a stool in the belly of his own therapy cage. He has resumed his act of wounded bird and it remains authentic. “I've been advised to stay on this side of the white line.” Hannibal says with slight amusement. “Select patients have taken to urinating on the therapists. The stone you’re standing in front of? If it were wood, it’d be warped.” Will says with amusement in his own eyes. 

“I would argue, drawing a line might encourage a pissing contest.” Hannibal suggests with a soft smirk. “I'm not interested in a pissing contest with you, Dr. Lecter. Please. Pull up your chair.”

Hannibal scoots his chair across the white line and sits.

“You said the light from friendship won't reach us for a million years, that's how far away we were. I hope our friendship feels closer today.” Hannibal says gazing up at the Caged Will Graham.  “Friends have a symmetrical relationship. Psychiatrist and patient, that's unbalanced.” Will says, The power imbalance is something to always take note of when dealing with Dr. Hannibal Lecter. “There is a power differential between psychiatrist and patient. One that I'm well aware of, particularly with my own therapist.” Hannibal points out. 

“But we're just having conversations.” Hannibal smiles, seeing a glimpse of the old Will Graham.

“You threatened me with a reckoning.” Hannibal says, remembering the day Will Graham changed. “I did. I can't claim unconsciousness on that one.” Will says with a quick raise of the eyebrow. “You were searching for something in your head to incriminate me. I can only assume you didn't find it.” Hannibal says inquiring, but i don't think he really thinks Will could find anything at all. “Not much in there I recognize.”

“Whatever you remember, if you do remember, will be a distortion of reality. Not the truth of events.” Hannibal says, Will could almost laugh at it. “I'm realizing that.” Hannibal studies Will, inscrutable as to what he sees. “Beverly Katz has come to see you.” Hannibal questions with curiosity. “Yes.” Will doesn't say anything about Y/N because he wants her to be the least suspicious person at the BAU. 

”Does she show you pictures?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn't want Y/N to worry you're dwelling on anything morbid in what's to be a time of recovery.” Hannibal says, almost guilt tripping Will. “It's the only thing that feels normal.” Will admits truthfully. “The violence?” Hannibal asks with a slight tilt of the head. 

“The structure of understanding the violence. That feels normal.” Will says his cold gaze never leaving Hannibals. “You're missing pieces of yourself. Careful what you replace them with. What did you see in the pictures?” Hannibal advises. “This killer. He's not stringing his victims up. He's stitching them together. Every body is a brushstroke. He's making a human Mural. But Y/Nalso saw the same thing probably even more.”

“Why does he do it?”

“Y/Nsaid He's missing pieces, too.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM’S CELL - DAY-

Y/N and Beverly stand on the other side of the bars, holding an abridged file of photographs and forensic data. “Dr. Lecter has advised me against dwelling on anything morbid.” Will says with sarcasm, I roll my eyes and continue towards the bars. “I know you want to stop these  murders as much as we do.” Bev says to Will.“Reasons to stop multiple murders do occur readily to me, but I'm going to need something in  return.” Beverly stares at Will, curious what game he's playing.

“There are things you don't have. I can talk to the chief of staff.” Bev says thinking Will needs something materialistic. “Chilton?” Will asks with a raised eyebrow. “He's being very cooperative.” Bev says, boy if she only knew What Chilton really acts like whewwww….

“Of course he is. He loves when I have visitors. He's recording every word. He's gossipy that way.” Will says with obvious annoyance towards Chilton. “He’s always been that way. What do you want, Will?” I ask  Equally annoyed with the overly flirty and obnoxious Psychiatrist. “I'm wondering if you can get me the thing I really want.” Will says with curiosity “Try Me.” Beverly says confidently.  “I want you to ignore all the evidence against me.” “You're right. I can't get that.”

“How many more colors is this killer going to add to his box of crayons?”

“Say I were to ignore the evidence against you, what then?” Beverly asks calmly, “Strike it from your mental record. Start over. If I'm guilty, you'll find more evidence. If I'm not guilty, maybe you'll find that too.” Will says as he leans closer to the bars of his cell. “All right. I'll keep looking.”

“Good. Let me have the file then. I'll tell you what I think.” Beverly puts the file in a tray, slides it through the bars. “Do you mind if I do this privately?” “Yes.” She places the folding chair against the opposite wall, sits.

He rips the envelope open, leaving torn edges where the staples were. He shakes BAU PHOTOS out of a padded envelope. Shots of Roland Umber at BAU. Will glances at Beverly

through the bars and returns his attention to the pictures. Will focuses on the photos and he CLOSES HIS EYES. A long beat before the AMBIENT CELL BLOCK SOUNDS are replaced

as the DRONE of Will’s BLOOD FLOW presides. He OPENS HIS EYES, glancing down at the himphoto in his hands, of Roland Umber's wounds. He lowers the photo to reveal Y/Non a metal table. We are --

BAU - MORGUE (HEIGHTENED STATE OF WILL'S MIND)

The environment is wrapped in shadow and mood. Will now stands over Caroline’s corpse on a metal table, Beverly behind him on the other side of the glass wall. Will stares at the RAGGED WOUNDS WHERE FLESH TORE AWAY FROM STITCHING. “Skin isn't as discolored as the other victims'. Looks fairly well- preserved, all things considered. Why would I throw you away?”

 BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL (OMNISCIENT POV)

WILL’S GAZE to the ENVELOPE the photos came in. Its end had been STAPLED SHUT, but when it was opened and where the staples were removed, THE PAPER IS TORN. “Did Roland Umber have any priors with substance abuse?” Beverly watches Will standing in the middle of his cell, as if he's in the BAU, his back to her in the corridor. “He was in an outpatient treatment program for drug addiction.”

“Heroin?”

“Among others.”

BAU - (HEIGHTENED STATE OF HIS MIND)

Will studies poor Caroline, dead on the slab. What a cruel trick his mind is playing on him.

“Had a high tolerance for opiates, the overdose didn't kill him. He survived what was done to . He tore himself free. He ran.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY

Will finally turns to face Beverly and Y/N. “How did he end up in the water?” Bev asks Will, but i already knew the answer. “Killer didn't put him there. He'd have put him back in the mural if he caught him. Other bodies were dumped. Roland Umber got away.” I say as i look to Will. “Got away from where?”

“This killer needs someplace private to do what he does. A warehouse, a farm, someplace abandoned, upstream from where the body was found. It'll be close to the water.” Will explains, exactly what i was thinking.  “Thank you.”

“I'm curious. What'd Hannibal Lecter have to say about Mr. Umber?” Will asks causing me to softly snort out a chuckle. “He thinks the killer tore him down, dumped his body like the others.” I smirk and look at Will, knowing that we both know thats not necessarily what he thinks. “That may be what he said, but not necessarily what he thinks.” Will says basically reading my mind. 

FARMYARD - GRAIN SILO - DUSK-

A GRAIN SILO looms behind, a royal sentry in a bearskin hat. Hannibal, his CLEAR PLASTIC SUIT over his traditional three- piece, crosses the property. He walks along the field of corn, toward the grain silo. He approaches the silo and regards a steep METAL STAIRCASE on

its outer wall, leading to a silo opening twenty feet up. Hannibal sees mud clumped on the lower steps -- STILL MOIST. Hannibal turns his gaze UPWARD from the locked door and begins to climb the metal staircase. Hannibal reaches the upper opening. He steps into the silo’s upper catwalk.

GRAIN SILO - CONTINUOUS-

...the TRUE ORDER in the carnage on the silo floor. SEEN FROM ABOVE, the mass grave reveals its intended form and purpose: The bodies, with their variety of shades and positioning,

form a UNIFIED PICTURE -- the image of a huge, GLOWERING EYE.  A stern, unblinking representation frozen in resin and death. HANNIBAL Sees LIGHT come through the lower opening. A man -- THE KILLER -- enters with a lantern and a resin tank with a spray wand.

“Hello.” From the silo floor and behind the Killer who spins to see Hannibal in his plastic suit, watching from above. HANNIBAL with the utmost sincerity: “I love your work.”

FARMYARD - DAY-

A full-blown crime scene, populated by considerable local and state police presence. FBI PERSONNEL work amongst them. BODY BAGS have been lined up. Each pile flapping in the wind, weighted down with a heavy stone, ready to be filled. BEVERLY AND HANNIBAL approach the silo, navigating around the CRIME SCENE PERSONNEL and between waiting rows of body bags.

“You, Dr. Y/N L/N, and Will Graham are a good team. You gave us the "what" we were looking for. He gave us the "where." Corn dust in the craquelure.” Beverly says earnestly, “And Will's insight? And What does Y/Nbring to the team? “

“He didn't think Roland Umber was discarded. He escaped. We just had to go upstream from where his body was found until we hit corn. And Y/NGives us the Why…Her connection with others’ emotions along with what her and Will do with their imaginations….Shes the Triple threat…She can tell you the what, where, and why.” Beverly says with fondness of Caroline. Though Beverly does think that Y/Nneeds to take a break at some point. 

“We do make a good team.” They approach Jack Crawford near the silo and Beverly hands Hannibal off. Jack hands Hannibal crime scene gloves. “Dr. Lecter. Follow me. Might want

to prepare yourself. You haven't seen anything like this before.”

“I'm sure I haven't.”

GRAIN SILO - DAY-

Jack and Hannibal head inside, MOVING ACROSS the expanse of bodies like dunes of sand made flesh. Hannibal takes in the magnitude of the horrific display. Jack turns to see him staring, genuinely awestruck. “How can being human go so bad?” Jack asks the obviously rhetorical question.“When it comes to nature versus nurture, I choose neither. We are built from a DNA blueprint and born into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control.” Hannibal Answers.

“Praise the mutilated world.” Jack says grimmly, “I do.” Hannibal glances around, up into the ceiling, wondering: “What does it look like from above?” Jack hands him an iPad. On it, a DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPH reveals the human mural from above. It's very clearly an eye. “Fascinating.”

“This feels ritual. In the vicinity of voodoo. Is it human sacrifice?” Jack asks The stoic Psychiatrist. “I'm not sure if it's an offering, but it's certainly a gesture.” Hannbal says as he gazes at the Image.  “To who?” Turning to the human mural, Hannibal points to the CAUCASIAn MAN in the fetal position at the center of the brown iris, one leg tucked under the other as if it has been amputated at the knee. We will call him the REFLECTED MAN.

“The eye looks beyond this world,into the next, and sees the reflection of man himself. Is the killer looking at God? A challenge of equals? "I can be as terrible as you. I can take and I can create."” Hannibal Inquires, “Sounds like human sacrifice to me.” Jack says with a raised eyebrow. Jacks Mind is very black and white. If there is evidence that proves someone guilty, he doesnt even stop to wonder if there was a possiblity of that person being framed. “Not to appease, but to defy.” Hannibal says as he stares at the mass grave. “Is it an existential crisis?” 

“If it were an existential crisis, I would argue there wouldn't be any reflection in the eye at all.” Hannibal says genuinely, “Someone who could do this... are they likely to keep doing it?” Jack says as he looks at Hannibal. “This could be his beginning and/or his end.”

“You said he doesn't see people. He sees... material.” Jack says as he furrows his brows.“Those in the world around him are a means to an end. He uses them to do what he is driven to do.” Hannibal says inquisitively. 

BAU - MORGUE - NIGHT-

The HUMAN MURAL is an ENLARGED PHOTOGRAPH.  it's mounted on an easel between the bodies of Roland Umber and Reflected Man, side by side on tables. “No record of fingerprints. He was never arrested, never had a job that required any kind of security clearance or background check.” Jimmy says as he looks at  the  VARIOUS BODIES are present in the BAU, not only in the morgue, but in the hall, on tables, gurneys, morgue drawers. “Hopefully he's been to a dentist.” Zeller says as starts to take imprints of the body’s teeth. “Why am I looking at this man?”

“Stitch patterns on John Doe Twenty-One match Roland Umber.” Beverly says as she indicates the lateral stitches on both John Doe Twenty-One and Roland Umber; both travel similar lines. “John Doe Twenty-One was Roland Umber's replacement in the mural?” Jack asks confusedly, “But bigger.” Jimmy says as he indicates the leg, amputated below the knee. “Too big, really. Killer cut off his leg to make him fit.” Jack studies John Doe as Zeller, Price and Katz look on.

“He changed colors mid-brushstroke.”

"The eye looks beyond this world, into the next, and sees the reflection of man himself." There wasn't supposed to be a reflection. “This killer was having an existential crisis after all. How did he find his faith?”

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

Beverly Katz and Hannibal Lecter sit side by side, the personification of good and evil working as one. In the Middle is Y/N, The literal personification of Chaotic Nuetral. Will stares back at them, saying nothing. “Now you're just taking advantage. You're going to burn me out before my trial and then where will I be?” Will says Blankly.  “Can't afford to let you burn yourself out for nothing, but maybe for something?” Bev retorts with a soft smirk.  “What would Jack say?” Will says as he raises an eyebrow. “Jack Crawford's excellent administrative instincts are not often tempered by mercy.” Hannibal expresses with a light smile. 

“Clearly. If you brought him as a psychiatric safety net, I've fallen through that net before. Y/N might be a better fit for that role for me. No offense.” Hannibal nods, none taken. I smirk and contain my laughter. Beverly cuts through Will's BS.

“I'm devoting a lot of time to this mural, Will. It's hard for me to focus on anything else I've been

tasked to do. Could use your help.” Subtle, but perhaps not subtle enough for Hannibal. Beverly

walks the crime scene photos over to Will. Will, getting the drift, begins to flip through the crime

photos, studying each momentarily before moving to the next. I drag my chair closer to Will. 

“During the nineteenth century, it was wrongly believed the last image seen by the eyes of a dying person would be “fixed” on the retina.” As Will finds the overhead photo of the eye. “What would be the last image fixed on this dying eye?” He takes a breath, exhales, He grabs my hand and then closes his eyes. I know what i saw but- i can never be too sure. I close my eyes and squeeze Will’s hand. 

A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Y/N’s mind, keeping rhythm with her heartbeat. FWUM. FWUM. Her eyes are closed. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside her

head. It swings behind Y/N, wiping away Hannibal, Will, and Beverly. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings and the CORRIDOR outside her cell PLUNGES INTO DARKNESS. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings and the floor under his feet goes completely dark.

The picture of the HUMAN MURAL FILLS FRAME reveals Y/NSTANDING IN DARKNESS. As LIGHT SLOWLY ILLUMINATES THE FLOOR AROUND CAROLINE, REVEALING DOZENS OF CADAVERS. We are --

GRAIN SILO - DAY (Y/N’S POV)- 

Y/N stands amongst the mural of bodies, still holding the photo of the carnage in her hands. FWOOM. The PENDULUM swings and the photo disappears. FWOOM. FWOOM. The PENDULUM STOPS SWINGING, snapping into place as Y/Nsnaps into focus. she turns, taking in the bodies.

“I made you pliable. Molded you. Set you and sealed you where you lay. This is my design. A dead eye with vision and consciousness.” Caroline, a large speck of dust in the eye, stares upward, searching for what the eye sees. What the eyes owner Feels. Hopelessness. Finality. 

“I am fixed and unseeing... unless someone else sees me.” Y/Nglances down at the Reflected Man in the mural. “Someone else has. They were here.”

HANNIBAL - BSHCI - THERAPY HALL (OMNISCIENT POV)-

Hannibal stands with Beverly, watching Y/Nand Will. He smiles an almost-imperceptible 

GRAIN SILO - (Y/N'S POV)-

Y/N steps carefully over the bodies until...“One of these things is not like the other things. One of these things just doesn't belong.” ...she is standing over the Reflected Man. “Who are you? Why are you so different from everyone else? I didn't put you here. You... are not my design.”  Suddenly, a NOISE from above causes Y/Nto look to the ceiling where a SILHOUETTED FIGURE watches from above, his antlers rising majestically into the air.

Y/Nnow lying NAKED, her LEG  MISSING, her body CONFIGURED into the opening in the mural where the Reflected Man once was.

A NEEDLE SUDDENLY PIERCING Caroline’s forearm and pulling THREAD through, drawing the length through. She feels relaxed almost like a pliant material.  She looks from the SUTURES through her arm to the one wielding the needle. The LIGHT SILHOUETTES THE FIGURE... until it SHIFTS and we see it’s HANNIBAL LECTER, eerily comforting. “Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in His image?” Caroline, immobilized, with a dawning realization...She looks up from the photo. We are now --

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY. 

Beverly and Hannibal watch Y/Nand Will, waiting for them to draw a conclusion from their process. Y/Ntries to gather herself together, knowing Hannibal is watching her and Will closely. “The killer is in the mural.” Will speaks first, I stare blankly as i push my chair back to its origin. “What do you mean? Literally?” Bev says as her gazes goes from Will to Me. 

“We mean, the man you're looking for has been sewn into his own mural. This man.” I say gently, my hand goes to my hair. A comforting thing ive done since i was a child. My Dad used to play with my hair to comfort me when i was upset or stressed. Something ive taken to doing myself ever since the incident when i was a 16. 

“What happened to his leg?” Bev asks confusedly, “Whoever sewed him in... took a piece of him. As a trophy. Question is, who sewed him in.” Will says as he watches my actions with a worried look in his eyes. “He must have had a friend.”

RIVER - DAY-

Will Graham fly fishing. He casts his lure and watches it land with a small PLIP that breaks the surface of the river. He shades his eyes from the sun, his gaze falling to the water flowing around his waders. A PALE BODY DRIFTS BY just beneath the surface. Will startles as a KLAXON SOUNDS. We are --

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will stands in the middle of his cell. Footsteps approach from down the hall and a chair SLIDES on the concrete floor. His eyes follow the action, “I don't know you.” The figure steps into the light revealing Bedelia Du Maurier. She sits across from Will “My name is Bedelia Du Maurier.”

“You're Hannibal Lecter's therapist. What's that like?” She studies him, somehow identifies with him. “I've heard so much about you and Your Partner, I almost feel as though I know you both.” Bedelia says as she gazes at one of the topics of the many conversations shes had with Hannibal. “You don't.” Will says with a wary eye. 

“No, I don't, but I understand you better than I thought. I wanted to meet you before I withdraw.” Bedelia admits, she understands his wariness she herself too is wary of her decisions. “What are you withdrawing from?” Will asks curiosly concerned. “Social ties.” Bedelia says numbly, It wont stop what or whos coming for her but it will slow them down. “You're a psychiatrist. Isn't our sense of self a consequence of social ties?” Will Questions confusedly. 

“It certainly is in your case. It may be small comfort, but I am convinced Hannibal has done what he believes is best for you.” Bedelia says gently, she doesnt just mean What Hannibal has done to Will but What he will do to Caroline. 

“That's not small comfort, that would be no comfort.” Will says with slight sarcasm. “You can transform this experience. The traumatized are unpredictable because we know we can survive. You can survive this happening to you.” Bedelia says with shaky confidence. “Happening to me.” Bedelia steps right up to the bars.

“Step away from the bars. Ma'am, step away from the bars.” GATE KLAXON SOUNDS as a NURSE and GUARD ENTER the cell block. Will Graham joins Bedelia at the barrier of his cell and she whispers so quietly she may be only mouthing the words: “I believe you.”

A nurse and guard approach from down the corridor. “Okay. That's enough. Come with us.”

Will stares at her, a wave of emotion washing over him as Bedelia steps away, gathered by the nurse and a guard and escorted back down the corridor. He begins to tremble. A great relief

having heard three simple words he's needed to hear from someone other than Caroline.

BEDELIA'S HOUSE - FOYER - NIGHT

THE SOUND OF A KEY IN THE DOOR Breaks the quiet. LIGHT SPILLS in as the door opens. Not Bedelia but Hannibal who enters with a key of his own in his GLOVED HAND. The transparent plastic of his bespoke CRIME SCENE OVER-SUIT catches the light of a distant streetlamp. He quietly moves inside, closing the door behind him. THROUGH THE ARCH OF THE LIVING ROOM Hannibal creeps further into the hall and asks the darkness no questions.

 He turns to the living room as  to reveal almost every piece of Bedelia's furniture is beneath a clear plastic cover. All the furniture has been protected against dust for an indefinite period of time. He takes in the shroud over the chairs. He walks the room's periphery, searching for some sign that she isn't truly gone. Hannibal pauses and sees something on Bedelia's chair. A CUT-GLASS PERFUME BOTTLE Hannibal takes in the shadow of Bedelia's fragrance and picks it up, considers it for what it is: a memento of friendship. “You’re not alone, you know…”

GRAIN SILO - DUSK (FLASHBACK)-

The Muralist is lying, unclothed, in his own mural. He is configured into the space from which Roland Umber pulled free. A SHADOW cast by the gas lantern moves over him. HANNIBAL Is in his plastic suit, kneeling, the syringe in hand. “In The Resurrection, Piero della Francesca placed himself in the fresco. Nothing flattering -- he depicted himself as a simple guard asleep at his post. Your placement should be much more meaningful.” The Muralist's face, increasingly complacent, clouds over: “It's not finished.”

“I'm finishing it for you. We'll finish it together.” He trades the hypo for a LARGE CURVED NEEDLE and FILAMENT. Hannibal LICKS the tip to thread latter through the former: “When your great eye looked to the heavens, what did it see?” “Nothing.” Hannibal glances up to the roof of the silo. “Not anymore.” “There is no God.”

“Certainly not with that attitude. God gave you purpose. Not only to create art, but to become it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Your eye will now see God reflected back. It will see you.” Hannibal leans over and begins SEWING the man down. “When God looks down at you, don't you want to be looking back at Him?” Hannibal sews. Blood flows. And sews. More blood. Then, incredibly: “Yes.” As the narcotic takes hold, his life ebbing away, the Muralist recalls their agreement: “What is it you wanted from me?”

“Only this.” Hannibal stitches the Muralist into his own masterwork, making Will And Y/N’s forecast come to pass. A valentine. And just as Will and Y/N intended.

[alstroemerian-dragon]

thinking about the several month period where the survivors (plus the two who are already awake) work to 1) wake up mahiru 2) support her through healing and then 3) wake up peko

and how utterly Miserable that period of time has to be for fuyuhiko

(more under the cut because its another long one babey)

like. okay. heres a couple of disclaimers: this is a repeat, but i have not watched the anime. so if the character dynamics from it are your canon, just know i may not follow that. second, i… dont really think about mahiru that much. shes not really that much of a character to me, given what were given in canon, and the Casual Man Hating Mom Friend Lesbian (and i know she canonically has a crush on hajime so shes definitely bi or pan dont yell at me) trope just does nothing for me im sorry HOWEVER. in contrast to fuyuhiko, and in terms of what, in my brain, she does during the tragedy (which will probably WILDLY contradict literally everyone else’s opinions), there IS something in… her* arc post sim (that * will come back) that DOES interest me. bear with me

fuyuhikos ingrained belief system revolves almost entirely around the phrase ‘There is always a bigger fish.’ there is always going to be someone stronger, bigger, and more dangerous than you, so you have to work to be the strongest, biggest, and most dangerous you can in order to stay alive. along with that, he’s had very strangled views of what it means to be a Man shoved down his throat by most likely his father, so to him, being a man means being Big and Strong and Dangerous. but at the same time… he knows thats all bullshit. hes had other influences in his life, peko, his sister and, in my mind, his mother and other strong women high up in his clan, that have shown him the falsehoods of a lot of those claims. at the same time, he also knows, in the back of his head, that he physically can not meet those expectations for being a man. but… he is one. i think hes Solid in that. so it ends up all conglomerating and fighting in his head in a very confusing mess, which honestly has to be exhausting.

mahiru, by contrast, seems to have this very odd two-part system of beliefs, where being a man means being Confident and Strong and Protective, but at the same time, men are fundamentally Lazy and Stupid and Uncaring. women need to be protected by men, but also men are unnecessary. its… yeah its honestly familiar lmao. and some of this is the writers’ beliefs seeping in and some of it is bad writing but at the end of the day its what weve got.

so, to me, it really feels like the two of them would have absolutely hated each others guts during school. fuyuhiko is neither Big and Strong and Caring, nor is he Lazy and Stupid and Uncaring. he cares a lot, but not openly, or in a way that mahiru would easily recognize. hes an enigma in her eyes. and to fuyuhiko, mahiru is stuck in a frame of mind hes been fighting since he was a child, and as much as he’d try to be sympathetic, his anger has a tendency to get the better of him.

so… sato’s death would only have made this situation worse.

i dont think any of them knew he was responsible for her death. i dont think fuyuhiko told ANYONE aside from peko, especially since this would have been in their second year, after junko had begun sinking her talons into the entire class. how could he trust any of them? and he has to have known about her connection to mahiru, its the only way he could have found out she was involved in natsumi’s death. he kept it from her in particular, knowing she wouldn’t understand, knowing she would blame him, knowing it would just make things worse.

she probably doesnt realize the full extent of everything until… until after she wakes up.

im not gonna go too much into them as despairs, but lets just say that fuyuhiko… is responsible for a lot of bad things, even ones that happened to his fellow limbs. mahiru also did a lot of shit, but hiko i think is one of the only ones who hurt his so-called allies. and her cheery, fake, influencer-like attitude absolutely grated on him like crazy, resulting in a lot of screaming matches and even physical altercations.

so, when mahiru wakes up, her opinion of fuyuhiko is the lowest it could possibly be. hes an enigma, a stick in the gears, a man who hasnt yet shown his true colors and yet is also a violent, cruel dictator, fulfilling every expectation she has for the kind of man she expects the Ultimate Yakuza to be.

except he isnt. because by the time she wakes up, its been over a year and a half since the program shut down, and fuyuhiko is a very, very different person. and he doesnt have a low opinion of her at all. hes incredibly sympathetic to her situation, understands how much pain shes probably in, understands theres definitely a lot more under her surface beliefs that he doesnt see or know yet. thinks it was incredibly brave of her to stand up to him despite knowing he could be violent and dangerous.

and as the days go by, she sees that. sees him interacting with the others, sees him laugh at one of hajimes stupid jokes, sees him smile and roll his eyes at kazuichi’s physical affection, sees him lean on his cane when his leg flares up, sees him rubbing at the scars around his eye when they ache. sees how much respect he treats her with, how much space he gives her while not avoiding confrontations, because hes done running. hes been running for far too long, and hes done with it.

i think it takes a long time. weeks, maybe. months, possibly. but i think it starts to weigh on her mind, that she cant keep treating him like a criminal. like a weapon. cant keep ignoring his humanity in favor of the label of Violent Man that sits in her brain. and, additionally, interacting with the others, with hajime, with sonia, with kazuichi and sagishi. she starts to realize how utterly stupid the rigid gender structures that exist in her heard really are.

basically what im saying is i think mahiru is a he/him butch bi woman because i love to hit characters with the Cool Ass Gender ray. this is where that * comes back by the way thats why thats there because mahirus not a girl but also he is a girl but also hes not. hope this helps <3 also he and fuyuhiko are Worsties. they should eventually get to a point where they can both make jokes about the fact that fuyuhiko tried to kill him and can also have serious conversations about the sato and natsumi shit without devolving into unproductive arguing.

AND THEN PEKO WAKES UP FUCK THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT—

[chthonicgodling]

What’s the furthest Loki has gone to protect a kid or to get revenge on someone who’s wronged them ?

thank you!! (attention everyone I am right now accepting eLoki’n’kids questions, pre-Elysium, past-Elysium, current-Elysium— pls humor me ty ty)—

there’s two big answers for this! there’s an entire essay in here of COURSE. firstly though Lemme just — Mission Statement — a quote from eLoki himself!! From way back in (checks notes) …..oh LITERALLY just two weeks ago (wonder what that’s about) -

“My children, they prophesize to end the world, to bring about apocalypses[…] You know I’d choose them any time. Every time.”

so bearing that in mind what’s the furthest Loki would go to protect/avenge one of his kids? UHH

PRE-ELYSIUM FIRST — as we’ll recall Loki’s upbringing was [looks directly at the camera] and despite Odin’s direct series of one million cruelties against Loki’s first six children, Loki’s relationship with his own father was. umm. complicated. getting direct revenge on odin himself seemed impossible, though also held back by the confines of being conditioned to both fear him and somehow STILL crave some sort of approval from him— until uhhhhh Loki finally completely snapped and those confines vanished (rather — warped then vanished?listen…. Listen. Yknow. cmon we. all. know what happened then) lmao BUT that’s not what I’m talking about

Odin’s confiscation of first born Sleipnir was of course traumatizing but many years later, having Hela, Fen, and Jör ripped away from him — all at once — PHYSICALLY — with begging and screaming involved — was further traumatizing enough for Loki to snap for the first time. He easily could have slaughtered the field of armed guards who Odin had sent to tear away the kids (well, teens at the time) but had stopped solely because they’d threatened to harm the three of them. Okay, fine he’d “let” them go, so long as they wouldn’t be injured. They weren’t at least, just separated and banished far away.

So instead thoughts turned to retaliation - not upon Odin himself ever untouchable and despite it all, his own father (the Loki of today LAUGHING at this sentiment, he probably should have just fuckin killed Odin then lmao).

Loki in the action of spiraling paused thoughts of revenge by.. accidentally becoming pregnant with Vali and Nari, but when he moved with them and their mom Sigyn back into the palace, he was in a DARK place only made worse by the constant cruelties of the palace whispering about those three banished kids behind his back. What better way to get revenge then to rip away a son himself, make Odin feel what he’d felt????!

…..okay well. Despite it all Loki couldn’t bring himself to try to murder Thor (yet), who had nothing to do with any of this mess and was— ok I dont need to pontificate about their relationship we know all about that. Instead he fixated and obsessed upon the god Balder — NOT Odin’s actual offspring, but LIKE a son to the king and queen, universally adored by all, a second golden child to pose with Thor (forget the fact that Odin had two children!! Nope THESE were the two golden boys! AAHUHHGHGGH—)

As revenge for what Odin had done to Hela Fen and Jor, Loki killed Balder in cold blood, though secretly (he framed someone else). However— Odin, All-Seeing, All-Knowing, and now thoroughly irritated that his problem child was continuing to ~act-out~ — knew what Loki had done. and retaliated right back, murdering Vali and Nari mere days later.

sssighssss he hadnt been there to protect them - and there was no revenge that time. not right away. this was so completely shattering, utterly completely devastating, it broke him entirely. this loss— NOW THE FIFTH AND SIXTH IN A ROW, and the most horrifying of them all— was enough to shock Loki into numb and dazed acquiescence. stifled rage simmering quietly ever after, but dulled by grief and numbed horror.

…until several years later when Loki would find out he wasn’t eVEN ODIN’S ACTUAL FUCKING SON IN THE FIRST PLACE AND ALL OF THAT LONG SIMMERING RAGE WOULD BOIL OVER INTO—

ahem anyway two movies later

the second big one - was way back DURING Elysium canon - but years ago! after Loki had first ended up down there and taken steps to not be so supervillainy. He’d done the Memory Theater with the palace and they’d all seen the horrible beats of his past, both done to him and done by him. Tory got the spirits of Vali and Nari and returned them to Loki. Loki began to believe he was in a relatively safe place, with people who he could tentatively (under his breath and behind their backs) call his friends. He relaxed— slightly.

He had some fun escapades with Jesse and Laphi — ended up pregnant — panicked and vanished, returned with an egg, hatched baby Fjöer successfully, was assured over and over and over again that Fjöer was loved and protected and nothing bad would ever happen to him, not ever again to any of his children. Fjöer was one of them — LOKI was one of them — they were both safe.

Aaaaand then Fjöer was kidnapped.

Turns out that due to Loki’s previous list of crimes — specifically the uh, GIANT one in New York immediately preceding his Elysium entrance — the Underworld was chock full of shades, y’know ghosts who had DIED during that specific…. adventure. Ghosts who were real bitter about the circumstances of their death and real suspicious of the fact that known supervillain Loki was just hanging around now and — had created a little CREATURE to presumably do nefarious things with???? Several of those ghosts proceeded to haunt the upper world to give a certain,, government agency that I surely do not need to name, some TIPS about where exactly to find and locate this new secret weapon that Loki was harboring and— right under anyone’s noses— baby bird was whisked away.

When Loki found out Fjöer was gone he knew immediately who had taken him and didn’t bother to inform the rest of the palace or ask for help,, he was immediately so consumed with utter blind fury that he just hhh. lost his mind again and set off to fucking kill, and get his baby back. EXCEPT LOKI WAS WRONG??? ABOUT WHO HAD TAKEN HIM!????

due to some unfortunately timed misheard conversations mere days before, Loki blamed Fjöer’s kidnapping on, solely, a uhh one (1) Tony stark instead— he (and the rest of the avengers) legitimately had nothing to do with it, but it didn’t matter, as Loki managed to corner him alone and. left him quite literally on the brink of death. he’d stopped just RIIGHT before— as the smoke……. Blood……. cleared— realizing in horror what he’d done but also realizing in utter panic he was no closer to FINDING Fjöer, Loki did retreat to the palace ONLY then, AFTER attacking Stark. which Tory was. not happy about. …actually furious about. Well. he had tried to hurt his baby :( what was he supposed to do!!! no more would he be letting anyone get away with taking his kids from him!!!

**except Stark hadn’t DONE anything OOPS! Jesus christ well the summary aftermath of all that is - KEEP IN MIND all of this happened completely at once in a glorious horrifying cacophony of drama and chaos — Tory managed to track down Fjöer being ACTUALLY kept by SHIELD, after getting into a huge argument with an out-of-his-mind with-rage-and-panic Loki; Loki feeling INCREDIBLY guilty for retaliating against tHE WRONG PERSON but Tory refusing to let him slaughter the entire shield team; instead redirecting his energy to healing Stark back to liiife and retreating at Tory’s furious insistence—

Tory getting Fjöer back unharmed and negotiating Loki’s safety from consequence by agreeing to keep him in the underworld forever. This was then the direct lead up to Loki being imprisoned, then being pissy enough about that to take over the magic of the Undrworld which I have spoken about at length

IN CONCLUSION —

can’t get much further than any of that. fortunately everyone’s BEEN actually safe ever after so no more revenge murder attempts Loki!!!

fhHfgkg tHANKS FOR ALLOWING ME TO WRITE ANOTHER ESSAY ily

[vodika-vibes]

Post Order 66, part 4

The crew of the Starsinger, plus 2, are on their way back to Alderaan to pick up the kids, and inquire about the Rebellion. Conversations happen.

This was supposed to be the trip and Alderaan, but this got away from me. Again, I do all of my typing on my phone, so this is minimally proofread. And I might have jumped tenses. Sorry.

Tagging: @starrrgazingbunny and @thestarwarslesbian

If you dont want to be tagged, just let me know, and I won't do it again. Promise.

For the first time in 2 years, Dusk was grateful that his kids were somewhere else. And he was even more grateful for how long it took to get to Alderaan. He pretended not to notice that Cody was taking a very roundabout way back to Alderaan.

Fox needed the time. And so did Kanna.

But, he hadn't seen Kanna since the day they moved Fox out of the med-bay and into the room that Kanna would be using. He knew that Kanna would sooner cut off her own arm than let Fox starve, and he knew that Bee had been bringing them meals but...

He worried.

He finally had his ori'vod back, and he couldn't even speak with him.

Couldn't bring himself to speak to him.

Oh, he'd had the chance. He could have knocked on the door and asked Kanna for permission to speak to his ori'vod, but every time he came to the door and raised his hand to knock, he just froze.

What would he say? What could he say? "I'm sorry I left," or "I had no choice," both sounded weak to his own ears.

Dusk slumped against the wall across from Kanna's room. In spite of the fact that he hadn't seen much of her, having her on the ship was settling. But then, she'd always had that effect. He hoped it was working on Fox.

But then. Fox had always been a little softer with Kanna than anyone else. Fox used to get so angry when people commented on it though...so naturally they teased him mercilessly every time Kanna left.

Dusk's lips curled up at the memory. It had been ages since he thought about his brothers without feeling a pang of regret.

There was the sound of a door sliding open, and Dusk jerked when the slight frame of Kanna stepped into the hallway. "Kanna,"

She turned to him, and she smiled, "Dusk,"

"How is he?" Dusk asked, well demanded. Same thing really.

Kanna hummed, "Better than I feared, but worse than I hoped." She finally replied, "You could see him, if you like."

Dusk froze, "Does he...I mean, earlier he didn't-"

Kanna seemed to consider her words carefully, "He had his reasons, Dusk. It wasn't because he didn't want to see you though." Her smile softened, "He missed you."

"I...will I make anything worse?"

Kanna shook her head, "If that was even a remote possibility, Dusk, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Go. Talk to him." She paused, "Commander Cody is in the cockpit?"

"Yeah. He," it was Dusk's turn to pause, "He could use your specific brand of help, kid."

"He has it," Kanna promised, giving him a small wave as she brushed past him and headed down the hall.

Dusk waited until he heard Kanna slip through the door that led to the main part of the ship, before he pressed the button that opened the door to Kanna's room.

The first thing he noticed was that the room smelled like antiseptic, the second thing he noticed was Fox was sitting up in Kanna's bed, watching him cautiously.

Dusk stared at his brother, his mind blank for a moment, and then he spoke without thinking, "I knew Kanna would get you into her bed eventually." And then he slammed his hand over his mouth.

Seriously? He hasn't seen his ori'vod in two years, and that's what he says?

But Fox...Fox starts laughing. "She does tend to get her way, doesn't she?" His voice sounded rough, like he hadn't used it in a while, but he sounded so painfully fond, and Dusk couldn't help but smile. Fox tilted his head back, "Can't believe she survived. Closest damn thing to a miracle I've ever heard."

"She's always been tougher than anyone expected," Dusk offered, finally sitting on one of the chairs in the room, "Fox, I..." He hesitated, "I'm so sorry, ori'vod. I should have come sooner, I-"

"Why didn't you?" There was no heat or blame in Fox's voice, just Fox, looking for answers.

"...I have three kids, at the time one of them was just an infant-"

"Are they well? Happy? Safe?"

"I...yes? Of course. I spent the last two year making sure that they would remain safe-"

"Then there's no need to apologize."

Dusk stared at his brother, stunned. That wasn't what he expected.

"Your kids are Jedi, right? Kids you saved during the-...at the temple." Fox's stumble was blatantly obvious, but Dusk ignored it, "In which case you had every reason to stay away."

"Yeah. I guess." Dusk finally said, after he managed to find his words.

Fox regarded him for a moment, and then he settled back against the wall, "Tell me about your kids, vod'ika."

Up in the cockpit, Kanna settled herself in one of the jump seats, and she watched Commander Cody through her force sight.

He was hurting, they all were, with good reasons, but she was concerned. "Do you need any help, Commander?" She asked.

"...no offense, but I'm not sure how much help you'll be." He was curt, but polite. She could work with that.

She hummed thoughtfully, "I am a pretty good listener, if you wanted to get something off your chest."

Cody stilled, and for a moment Kanna thought he was going to yell at her. But instead, he seemed to crumple on himself. "Vader turned me into a Purge Trooper. I spent the last two years hunting down and executing people like you...why don't you hate me?"

Kanna smiled, though he wasn't looking at her, "I'm a Jedi," she said as if it was explanation enough, and, for her, it was. Plus, if I might be so bold, it seems you hate yourself enough for the both of us." Her voice was gentle, but he flinched like she had just brandished a pistol in his face.

"...I killed my General." Cody admitted, "Shot him right off a cliff."

"It wasn't your fault, Commander." Kanna said, "you were used, just like all of your brothers. I don't blame you, and your General wouldn't either."

She really should have paid more attention to battalions outside of the Guards, because she couldn't, for the life of her, remember who his General was.

He released a humorless laugh, "No, General Kenobi always was the forgiving type."

Kanna froze. Oh. Oh.

He thought-

Of course he did. The holo would have remained secret to anyone who wasn't Jedi-

Kanna exhaled slowly, "Commander," she said slowly, gently, as though she was speaking to an easily spooked child, "Commander, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi survived the Purge."

His head whipped around so quickly Kanna had to bite her tongue to keep herself for checking him for any sudden injuries, "You're sure?"

"He sent out a holo, to all Jedi, warning us against returning to the temple. I dont know where he is, but as of two years ago, Commander, he was alive. I swear it."

Cody slumped in his chair, "I didn't kill him." He breathed out, "he's alive." He stood suddenly, "Thank you. For telling me." And then he left the cockpit.

Kanna watched him leave, thoughtfully. She would keep an eye on him, just in case, but he did feel a bit lighter now.

She cast her senses out a little more, checking on all of the people on the ship. Dusk and Fox seemed happy enough, though Fox was starting to get stressed, so she would have to put an end to their conversation soon. Bee was in the med-bay, cheerfully organizing his equipment. And Cody was heading towards his room.

They would be arriving on Alderaan soon. Kanna hoped that it would help.

[urupotter]

I think you have mentioned in som meta that we as readers are supppouses to understand the marauders were somehow worse bullies than the proto DE of their time and I admit I struggle with this concept, because these children grew to be racist terr0rists.

I think its part of the reason a lot of people dont have any sympathy for teen snape and quickly dismiss it as sirius and james "bashing a fascist" (which I doubt anyone has a problem with irl),I dont think thats the reason they did it, at least not the main one but its not like I cant see why its a popular position in fandom.

I don't really believe that I've said that, rather my position is that Mulciber and James are intentionally set up as parallels (specifically what James does in Snape's Worst Memory is I believe supposed to be the same thing Mulciber does to Mary Macdonald). In any case we don't see enough of the proto death eaters to do anything beyond speculate. Also extrapolating backwards from them as full fledged Death Eaters is a bad idea, the Death Eaters are an entirely different environment and structure than Hogwarts, plus they are actually under the direct command of Voldemort. For evidence just look at the difference between the way Draco acts before he gets the mark and afterward. He's a dickhead always, but there's a drastic increase in violence/danger. (For the same reason I believe that Regulus Black, only one to be confirmed by canon to have been marked at 16, should be treated differently from the other Hogwarts students in meta and fic, he's much more dangerous than all of them).

Mulciber et al are obviously worse than the marauders purely because they want to join a terrorist group in the future (and the reason for this isn't endogenous to the marauders actions in the way it is with Snape), but that this is mostly down to circumstance and that they demonstrate enough casual cruelty and indifference to the way their actions could hurt others that I tend to attribute that more to their specific environments than anything more innate (except maybe Sirius, ironically enough given that he's the worst of the 4 bar Peter), and that it's possible, hell even likely given what we see, that during Hogwarts specifically the Marauders engaged in more immoral actions. Of course since that wasn't their environment that makes all the difference, but it is something I keep in mind when thinking about their characters.

As for motivations, that's made pretty explicit in text with the "because he exists" line, which is JKR's way of holding the readers hand and making it explicit that the motivations aren't noble. Add to that the total lack of mention of any of the marauders ever clashing with the proto DE along with many mentions of them hexing randoms and it's fairly clear to me that that was JKR's way of trying everything possible to avoid their motivations being misinterpreted as noble. Alas.

As for sympathy... eh? This is probably an unpopular opinion but both Sirius and (especially) Lupin are significantly worse people as adults than they are as teenagers, and I don't find being sympathetic hard at all. Hell, even more unpopular, teenage Lupin and Sirius are more moral than teen Snape (he is indeed a power hungry racist wanabee terrorist) but that flips by the time we get to canon (yes I know Snape bullies children, what Lupin does in third year re:Sirius is an order of magnitude worse and Sirius abuses his slave). Sympathy isn't really motivated by morality all that much to me. It's more related to if I find the character annoying or not.

Snape/Marauders is much better approached from the frame of reference that they're all rather terrible (unless you go utilitarian with Snape but that's niche and not what people tend to mean when talking about good or bad people), but that's irrelevant given that they're also cool as fuck. Lots and lots of great scenes and dialogue and amazing aesthetics and on and on. It's a much better fate as a character to be charismatic and terrible than nice and bland.

[the-whispers-of-death]

butcher's telling me that he can and will make dominic quit his job on the ranch if stone keeps being a bitch to his workers. he'll unionize them if he has to cuz. yikes

but still, he aint giving two shits about stone himself. he looks at him, looks at sylvester, pulls him away from everyone and is just like "hey. uhm, quick question: why??? why him??? hes worse than my *boss*!" and like. SIR. your boss has a stepson he doesnt even know about and and a whole ass failed marriage. so stone is maybe only half as bad /j

unfortunately for him, over a few visits, laila does start to grow on him, so i hope she doesnt mind the rough housing ((its all gentle though. he doesnt actually wanna cause any harm, but his only frame of reference for how durable teens are is charlie, and he can take a hit really well. so. laila beware))

for some reason he just slipped sylvester and the girls his number and said "hey, if you need me for *any* reason, you better fucking call, got it?" while side-eyeing stone. for some reason he thinks there will be a point in time where stone will either fuck something up, or where they'll need to hide a body

((... scientist!sylvester is twirling his hair at butcher and kicking his feet in bed and giggling and. sir. get out you already have criminal!stone,, go away man i dont nees this level of inter-au relationships w ocs))

oh and speaking of the girls, hes decided he likes them. he thinks theyre strong and capable. if stone hasnt already, he shows them all how to properly uee and take care of guns. and. well. lets just say that they might also find a spare pistol or two that he left in each of their rooms. theres just a note that says "dont tell the big guy",,

well shucks. hes now close to considering (half of) the ranch inhabitats as his family and. he borderline wants to convince sylvester to ditch stone on the basis of "his vibes are awful and rancid. i aint saying that i could be better than him, i couldnt, but cmon."

i do love how bringing him to the ranch au was probably meant to be cute and wholesome and hes just there, horrified and concerned

No, I knew Butcher and Stone would butt heads. I just love the chaoticness of it all.

It's okay, no need to unionize the ranch workers. Stone is now in his era of not overworking his employees, he's just overworking himself. If you see him pass out in the middle of taking care of the horses, no you don't.

Laila is used to roughhousing, as much as her honorary uncles and aunts try to be gentle with her, they were in the military and used to not being gentle. So don't worry, Butcher, she can handle it!

Akhil read Butcher giving Sylvester and the girls his phone number in case of anything and is like "Uhh, what about me? I live here too." It's okay, Akhil, I did start this whole scenario with saying that Heartthrob wasn't here yet because it was back when Dominic was being overworked. I'll add you into this AU again, Akhil.

Laila 100% knows how to properly use and take care of guns, because of course she does. While Stone isn't taking her out to fire a gun like how his father did with him, he did think she needed to know at least a little bit about guns. Still, he's going to have a conniption about the girls being given pistols by Butcher.

Stone is regularly ranting to Kali about how Butcher keeps trying to get Sylvester to ditch him. It's very annoying to Stone and it also makes his fear of being abandoned again kick in once more.

Oh, oh no. Stone angst is coming if Butcher keeps trying to get Sylvester to ditch his husband.

[ryanthedemiboy]

Same anon - i appreciate your reply! I'm also intending to be neutral tonewise! Sometimes people from other parts of the world misinterpret information about another country because (of course) they have a different frame of reference - so i try to offer a local view.

I only mentioned wheelchairs/scooters because the post was specifically about bike infrastructure so my mind immediately went to other modes of transportation.

While there are, of course, many imperfections about the dutch accessibility overall, i dont think the Netherlands specifically is worse than other European countries. I have lived in both Belgium and Germany and found the differences minimal.

I have observed better bike lanes usually go along with better pedestrian accessibility too - wider sidewalks, traffic lights that 'tick' when its green for the visually impaired, good ramps to wheel onto and off the sidewalk.

I don't use a wheelchair in my daily life but i cannot walk fast or long, so i notice (and need) pedestrian accessibility and imho a lot of dutch cities are not the worst (for pedestrian accessibility as a chronic slow walker at least) (i know "not the worst" is a horribly low bar)

I dont want to speak for accessibility for disabilities i dont have of course. But accessibility does overlap a lot of times so i feel i notice it more than non-disabled people.

Thank you so much! That cleared up a lot of my concerns :D

Some of my concern was def bc of a lack of sleep, winnow that i've slept some, stuff makes more sense, too.

Thank you so much for being patient with me! <3

[cacaitos]

i haven't read anyyyyyy astroboy and very little urasawa i literally have no frame of refence lol. urasawa makes easily emotive works so that's 👍 it works. it can get quite dispersed on a plot level and introduce strange plotpoint with inconsistent levels of consequence or attention. i dont know how to describe it but the first half feels like a more standard more interpersonal conflict/political drama and by the later half or third it resembles a heroism driven tezuka work (i woulndt know) that more than anything will mark what your taste in the matter ot say which is better. i might be missing some lore but that ending didn't feel all that conclusive and underwhelming if you preferred the tone of the beginning. alright 6.5-7/10.

i said i was going to finish it before recommending it, and overall i would do so, if you're looking for seinen to read. it is a vast story, on space, time and cast and it is a feat that the author could more or less handle them all decently, relative to how it tends to go. it goes very hard on worldbuilding and constantly jumps between fictional and real places, cultures, etc, and i think his intention with many treatment of them is adequate or good spirited at least, i wouldnt know with absolutely all of them. that however can be one of its greatest faults, since there's a lot of sensible stories and other that moreso try to evoke shock to a point that it can turn the audience a bit insensitive to its point. not the worst on its genre but it can get repetitive and makes pivotal moments underwhelming. also there's the thing of the sci if virus/hive mind/ spiritualism that im not too sure was the best integrated with the otherwise rugged dark realities of humanity or wtv, like it gets kinf of obtrusive towards the end, the ending itself felt rushed for how it was holding up but not the worse either. again, very decent read 8/10.

3. ? it's alright as a short horror story. and what you would otherwise expect from maruo.

4. i dont have many complaints, i think the animes did a lot to fleshout the games and speed of the story so it can be appreciated better plus theyre gorgeous too. i think the manga makes the characters be closer between each other and make their relationships less distant or confrontational, specially reika-hiromi-todo :) i even like jin a bit more since he wasnt neither as much as a violent asshole or predator creep so that's one less struggle for me. the sillies.

fuuuucking tedious

the story was mid but not terrible, depends on tastes. the ending is where is at. overall alright just dont spend too much time on it.

yes the premise sounds crazy it's more serious than you may think but also fuck that ending -_-. not that it was technically dissonant but i'll see you in hell. disappointing.