#i felt the need to clear up that misconception.

[skulkerdatabase]

In Bitter Reunions, it's stated that Skulker designed the "spectral energy neutralizer," and Vlad paid for it.

It's a common fanon misconception that Vlad designed Skulker's suit and/or technology, but this is untrue. As we see in this scene, Skulker designs and makes his own technology and even technology for other people. Also, if Vlad designed Skulker's suit, either he would have been able to design the Spectral Energy Neutralizer himself, or Skulker would not have been able to design it.

[sonknuxadow]

i will never consider olgilvie maurice to be sonics real name. because i just dont like it and also because its not canon anyways and seeing people treat it as if it is gets on my nerves. BUT. i am a bit obsessed with sonic being a chosen name. that part can stay

[kiame-sama]

Similar question to the one with Drider!Rook on kissing but with the other Monster Boys

How would they handle me giving them a kiss on the cheek (Or even their mouth) only to take something from them in victory?

But it’s mainly to prove a point that I don’t need physical strength to win, but my cunning and intelligence (Like I take their Dorm Staff or whatever’s in their hand in triumph because I proved my point)

Honestly, Malleus, Vil, Leona and Azul would be the most impressed but would probably scold me if I did that with others (But their eyes are dilated)

Warnings; Several different Yanderes, yandere behavior, suggestive themes, kissing, thievery, if you kiss any of the monster-men you need to be ready to handle the consequences, mainly Dormleaders (Minus Kalim, because all you have to do is point somewhere and you can easily steal from him. You don't even have to steal, he would willingly give you anything you wanted the moment you showed interest. You'd have a harder time stealing candy from a baby), less thievery and more escaping in Vil's ficlet, use of gamer-tags in place of names for Idia's ficlet,

~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Riddle!"

The Unicorn glanced over his shoulder when he heard your happy greeting, smiling in response to seeing you walking over to him with a slight bounce in your step. Though he would never admit it, the way his heart seized whenever he saw you was both a painful yet wonderful experience. How he longed for you to return his affections and take your rightful place as his King of Hearts.

"Good morning, (Y/N). Have you been well?"

"Of course, but there was something I wanted to talk with you about."

"Oh? What would that be?"

"Come over here, so we can talk without shouting."

The red-maned Unicorn was bemused, yet complied with your request all the same. He would always do as you asked of him, even if it meant moving the very ocean by hand. You smiled in a way that was almost mischievous and Riddle vaguely wondered what it was you were playing at. When he approached, you looked up at him with a content smile that he returned in kind.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"I had some questions for you about Unicorns, actually. Unicorns are a myth where I'm from, so I wanted to see if you could clear up some of the misconceptions I might have surrounding Unicorns."

"I would be happy to teach you about Unicorns, (Y/N)! You can have the utmost faith in me to provide accurate information to your questions. What did you want to know?"

"Are you able to lay down without being injured? The closest we had to Unicorns was regular horses, and they rarely would lie down unless extremely comfortable, young, or ill."

"Of course I can! Here, allow me to demonstrate for you."

He moved his weight back to his haunches, allowing them to meet the ground as he curled one leg after the other beneath him. Once his equine half was settled on the ground, he was about to roll to one side to fully lay down when your soft hand cupped his cheek. Riddle was confused as to your interruption but his confusion quickly turned to shock when your lips locked with his.

An almost whinnying squeal left him, but he was eager to return to affection in kind. Even as he felt the crown of his dorm-uniform being lifted from his head, he pursued the kiss eagerly and chased your lips as you tried to pull back. You were only able to escape the Unicorn's desperate kisses by stepping back, as he was unable to get up as easily as he was able to lie down.

There was a clear red decorating the cheeks of the lovely Unicorn even as you grinned triumphantly and placed the golden crown atop your own head. Little did you realize how much this would actually impact the Unicorn you tricked. A certain darkness seemed to take over the bright blue eyes of the monster man as he gained an almost drunken smile.

"Prefect..." he breathed, "absolutely perfect. My wonderful King of Hearts... of course I'll marry you!"

"Wait, what-?"

The Unicorn stood now, almost invigorated as he easily caught your shoulders in his hands, pulling you back into another deep kiss. When he finally broke it, he was affectionately rubbing the side of his horn against your head with soft nickering noises.

"Didn't you know? Kissing and exchanging an article of clothing is akin to a proposal for Unicorns like me. You'll make a wonderful King, (Y/n). My marvelous King of Hearts."

~•§•~

The Nemean Lion was laying in the vast gardens of the greenhouse, resting beneath the large leaves of a fern commonly found in his homelands of Sunset Savana. He was somewhere between sleep and awareness when a certain scent on the air caught his interest. Without bothering to open his eyes, his ears angled around before pinpointing the location where the scent originated. Leona almost smiled.

It was clear to him that you were trying to be quiet and sneak up on the Lion that continued to lazily lounge as you drew close. The only true indication that he was awake and not sleeping was the almost imperceptible flick of his tail. He was almost eager for what you intended to do after your approach as he continued to flick his tail excitedly.

The moment you were within reach, the Lion proceeded to grab you and pull you into his arms. You had been under the impression that he was asleep, so when he grabbed you, you couldn't help but cry out in surprise and fear. Of course, Leona couldn't help but laugh at your response as he rolled to his side, laying next to you and propping himself up on one arm.

"You'll have to try harder than that if you want to sneak up on me, Mousey."

"I wasn't trying to sneak up on you."

"No? Then why were you trying to be as quiet as possible?"

"Because, I was going to do something else."

"Like?"

Your sudden kiss to his forehead made a loud purr erupt from the chest of the Lion. It was almost too easy to get Leona to let his guard down as your fingers began carding through his mane, scratching near his golden ears. That also gave you the opening you were looking for as you easily slid the dorm emblem off of the arm of the Lion.

However, when you tried to pull away to abscond with your winnings, the weight of Lion was too much to be able to wiggle away from him and from under his grasp.

"Nice try, Mousey. Now, you're going to lay there and be a good little pillow as payment for interrupting my nap."

"But you weren't even sleeping-!"

He was quick to place himself on top of your soft figure, grabbing both of your hands- making you drop the emblem- and putting them back in his hair. There was little else you could do but pet the Lion who began to doze while snuggling your much more fragile form. If you wish to play with Lions, you must be ready to face the consequences of your actions.

~•§•~

"Ne, Azul! The Human is here and says they want ta talk to ya!"

The Cecaelia glanced up from the contract he was working on as Floyd lazily called into the office Azul often occupied. Though he often didn't allow visitors on any schedule but his own, he would make an exception for the beautiful Human he adored.

"Send them in."

"Kay~!"

At least Floyd seemed to be in an affable mood for once, smiling and lazily walking off with the door left somewhat ajar. Azul would scold the Eel later for the blatant forgetful behavior, as it was rather important to close the door to Azul's office due to the many contracts stored within the room. Still, it was something he could bring up later.

Floyd returned to open the door fully, letting the Human into the room with a happy grin in their direction. He seemed to want to linger but instead closed the door and went back to whatever it was he did when he was not tormenting others. Perhaps he was just moving on to torment someone else or even his twin bother.

"(Y/n), welcome to my humble office. What can I help you with today?"

"Well, I was told that you were the one to go to if I ever needed anything others were unable to retrieve."

"You're... you're here for a deal? I would happily make any deal with you, dear (Y/n)! Name your desires and I will deliver as promised!"

He was thrilled to know you were seeking his assistance. He was the best bet most had, after all. Most would have to pay a rather steep price to be able to afford the aid of the Cecaelia on any given day, but he had already resolved to aid you for a much more generous and kind-hearted price than his usual rate.

What he wasn't expecting was for you to sit down on the edge of his desk with an almost coy grin, gazing affectionately into the eyes of the Octopus who now seemed nervous under your scrutiny. He would never admit it- excepting to Floyd and Jade who had already become wise to his affections- but Azul was madly in love with the soft Human of Night Raven College. The Octopus had been in love with the idea of Humans ever since he was a larvae, hardly hatched and struggling in the currents of the ocean.

The many depraved things he had written in his adoration of Humans would hopefully remain unviewed by the Human that now sat perched atop his desk. Of course, it did nothing for the suddenly dry mouth Azul now experienced as he tried to keep himself as composed as possible. Were he in his aquatic form, no doubt his tentacles would be all over the soft skin of the Human, tasting and kissing the flesh that seemed so ample and on display for his gaze.

"Wh-what- ahem- what was it you needed from me, (Y/n)-?"

A sudden warm and soft kiss to the small heart shape beneath Azul's right eye had the Octopus tensing up. He was completely flabbergasted and unable to say anything in response to the affectionate action, even as his hat was lifted from his head and placed atop the head of the grinning Human. The octopus was only able to blink one eye at a time from how scattered his brain had become as the Human hopped off of his desk and pranced to the door, hat still securely in place.

"That's all I needed. Thanks, Azul!"

~•§•~

"Would you stop moving, (Y/n)? Honestly, you are acting as if you have never modeled for us before."

You frowned somewhat at the gentle scolding of the handsome Harpy that was trying to finish stitching the hemming of the shirt you were wearing. Naturally, the Harpy would not be content with just a few outfits for your ensemble and called you back to tailor more clothing for you. Divus wasn't present at this fitting, but Rook was happily watching the Harpy circle you as he hand-sewed the clothes.

"Well, sure, but I wasn't thinking I was going to have to stand for so long. It's not exactly comfortable."

"Beauty is pain, my featherless darling. Pin feathers are annoying and sometime even painful, but they give way to the most beautiful feathers imaginable if left to grow. Patience is needed to truly appreciate the beauty of something."

"If you say so."

Vil smiled slightly at this, glad that you were somewhat compliant to his gentle attempts at giving you direction. He would certainly be far less patient and gentle were you anyone other than his beloved Human. He doubted he would even be so patient with Rook. To be fair, though, Rook hardly complained about much, even if the Drider wasn't particularly comfortable or at ease.

"What do you think of this top now it is cinched properly, Rook?"

"Travail merveilleux, roi du Poison. I was unsure about the draping of the garment, but as always you have a keen eye for such things. Mon Trickster does look divine."

You vaguely wondered, as the Harpy wrapped up his stitching, if you would be able to escape from the fashion inclined duo, and what it would take to achieve such a feat. It was while you were contemplating your daring stunt that an opportunity presented itself. Vil was holding up a new top that had yet to be fitted and was trying to see what color would look best on you when you caught the Harpy's hand and attention. He was clearly suspicious of your actions as he raised a single brow in question.

"You know, Vil, I think pink would look good on you."

"Pink? It depends on the shade of pink, but it would mostly clash with my feathers-"

A sudden gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth silenced the Harpy, a bright pink dusting across the Harpy's fair skin and highlighting the bright coloration around his eyes. Those violet orbs were wide with surprise and even Rook was taken aback at the bold action, unable to find words as you hopped down from the raised platform you had been on.

"Seems I'm right! Pink looks great on you. Thanks for the top, Vil!"

You were quick to abscond from the room as the Harpy held his cheek, still blushing a bright pink. Rook was enthused that you gifted the beautiful Vil with such a treasured sign of affection, trailing a finger down the ridge of his boon-companion's wings as he walked around the stunned Harpy.

"Rook, how do you think (Y/n) would look dressed in a wedding gown made from your silk and my feathers?"

"Absolutely divine, like you, Roi du poison."

~•§•~

"Why can't we just virtual visit class, HellKitty?"

"Because, Idia, you need to interact with the other students at some point. Push your comfort zone and be a student, for once."

Idia frowned as he hid behind his tablet, trying to avoid all of the curious looks he got from others in the halls. He was trailing behind you- more than a little unwilling on his part- to what was supposed to be his next class. If he had the choice, the both of you would be back in your dorm and just watching class through one of the cameras as you played videogames together.

Honestly, he was more than a little amused that you had adapted to the gamer-tag he gave you like your own name. Of course, it was no mistake that he chose the gamer-tag HellKitty for you. It was both a play on your ever faithful companion Grim the Hellcat, and the fact that Hellcats were ideal companions for Shinigami. As a Shinigami, why wouldn't he want you to be his Hellcat? Sure, you weren't actually a Hellcat, but you were raising one and that was good enough for him.

"-Idia? Idia!"

"What?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"... would you believe me if I said yes?"

You sighed and stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face the tall student head-on. Naturally, the moment you stopped, Idia was quick to crouch and curl in on himself, wanting to seem as small as possible despite his already gargantuan stature. Only his own ancestor and the Kelpie Trey were taller than him, though not by much. This gave you the ideal opportunity to put your plan in motion.

While Idia was distractedly staring at his tablet, you reached up and cupped his cheek. The physical contact had the Shinigami looking at you with wide and confused eyes, his hair beginning to burn almost white in anxiety. Out of all the things Idia was expecting when you placed your hand upon his cheek, he was immediately error-screened when you pressed a warm kiss against his blue lips.

Could this possibly be happening? To someone like him? Was it even true, or was it a trick? If it was a trick, he never wanted to know because all he could think was how wonderful your lips felt against his somewhat chapped lips.

As you pulled away, Idia was finally able to get somewhat of a grasp on his own frantic mind only to realize he no longer has his tablet in hand. A quick glance around told him that you had his tablet held securely in your hands, grinning at him playfully.

"Alright, UnderworldBlues, if you can get through class without freaking out, I'll give you the tablet back, and maybe even another kiss if you behave. Think you can do that?"

"..."

"Idia?"

"..."

"Did you seriously just faint-?"

~~

You sat on the arm of the thorn throne of Diasomnia, the common room occupied only by yourself, Lilia, and Malleus. Silver and Sebek had classes, so they were not present despite the unusual temper Malleus had as of late. Lilia suggested the two of you should spend some of your down time with Malleus to try and lift his dour emotions from where they seemed to be stuck for the past few days. As Lilia was a trusted friend of yours and Malleus was a strong ally, you figured there was no harm in spending time with the two Fae monsters.

Malleus had calmed considerably with you and Lilia by his side, holding his dark torch-like staff in his gloved claws. He now almost seemed to be dozing somewhat, even as you glanced at the staff resting against his leg. Somewhere, you wondered how easy it would be to distract the Dragon and escape with the clearly important item, if only to break up the monotony of the moment.

Idle hands were the devil's playthings and you were certainly more than a little bored perched next to the Dragon.

"Did you need something, my (Y/n)?"

"Hm?"

"You keep glancing in my direction as if you need to say something or would like some kind of assistance from me."

"Not really. I was just wondering why you have that staff? I thought you didn't have a magestone weapon since you're a Dragon?"

"It is true, I have very little use for a magestone myself, so you have likely never seen it before. This staff is my magestone, you are correct. You are also correct in assuming I have little use for weapons. My fire and my claws are my weapons, most times."

"So, it wouldn't be a big deal if someone took it away, like it was for Leona?"

"Of course not. Strong and versed in magic as Kingscholar may be, he still does not have the same adeptness in-"

The green eyes of the Dragon widened in surprise as you leaned over, catching his lips in a tender kiss that left him breathless. Despite all of his power and his abilities, he was rendered mute and dumb from the sudden show of affection. He didn't resist the pull of his staff from his hand even as you pulled back to grin triumphantly. In fact, he didn't seem to have much of a reaction other than a vaguely humored grin.

Though it was quite a small expression on the outside, Lilia could see how Malleus prepared to pounce from the tension in the Dragon's shoulders, wings, and tail. You were far too interested in the staff that now sat in your hands- examining the green gemstone affixed in the top- to realize that the Dragon was not about to let such a small show of affection satisfy his sudden cravings. A sudden tug at the front of your shirt had you locking lips with the Dragon yet again, being pulled into the lap of the beast who seemed all too eager to take what had been offered.

"T-Tsuno-!"

"Hush now, my dear mate. You should know better than to tease a Dragon. Didn't you know that even one little kiss is considered enough invitation to mate?"

"But I-"

"You," he interrupted, "will not be going anywhere for the next few days. I intend to christen this- our first day as official mates- with many sleepless nights spent entangled in the embrace of passion. Prepare yourself, my soft little Human mate, because you may regret teasing me so callously."

[serpenlupus]

About Wyll and his horns (and what they mean)

Let's say I was writing a part of my Tav's story with Wyll directly connected to the dialogue he has during the tiefling party, and while struggling with this bit, I've realized there's quite a few misconceptions floating around. I felt compelled to add information to the table that might clear them, so here we go.

First, what exactly happens to Wyll when he disobeys Mizora in act one? Well, he doesn't get turned into a devil, he certainly doesn't get turned into a tiefling, he's not a half fiend, not a demon, none of that. Wyll stays human, but he has horns and red eyes (and other features we can't see on his model as of now).

(Everyone has their race listed, Wyll's remains "Human")

This is because when a warlock fails to uphold some part of their contract they can suffer a certain number of consequences, Wylls is “The character grows horns, a tail, or some other devilish features that can't be removed by any means short of divine intervention. As long as these marks persist the character detects as a fiend when subjected to Detect Evil and Good spells or similar magic.” ( from Baldur's Gate: Descent into Avernus, page 214)

And I’ve come across some people that think it wasn’t so bad of a punishment, that he was being racist towards the tieflings, or just not being justified in being upset after having his body forcibly changed against his will. I think they are missunderstanding just how insidious Mizora’s actions were, and here I just want to give some context to maybe bring a better understanding to the situation. Your conclusions are up to you.

Gonna start by using a not exact analogy, but I think it’s going to make the explanation easier. Stick with me for a minute.

Remember Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean? He had a branded “P” on his arm that marked him as a pirate. A murderer, robber, criminal, etc. in the eyes of the society he was a part of. What did Jack do to earn the branding? (if you don’t know this I suggest you look up the “people aren’t cargo mate” scene) He refused to transport slaves and later freed them, and Beckett had him marked as punishment.

Then, in the first movie, he saves Elizabeth, a woman he didn’t know, from drowning. Right after however, when Norrington sees he has a branded “P”, he’s like “alright, off to jail with you, and then hanging”, no other option crosses his mind. Again, Jack doesn’t know Elizabeth, isn’t indicated to think he is going to be rewarded for helping her, he just sees a drowning person, sees that no one else is going to help, and chooses to save them. That is a pretty selfless/good aligned thing to do, for no other reason that he was the one able to do it, yet the branding in his arm overrides any good action he could ever do, marking him as a criminal for execution and no further thought.

In a way, that’s what Mizora did to Wyll; she forever visibly branded him as someone that has made deals with devils, and that in the world of DnD is a VERY BAD THING. Personally I really like the mod that gives him more devilish features, but at the same time I think there was something clever about choosing to leave him looking more human. He can’t be confused with a tiefling, he doesn’t have the ears, the claws, the tail, all those features that characterize them. He looks kind of uncanny, and that would be like a red flag for anyone in that world. (Beyond the already existing hate for tieflings that I’m not gonna tackle on here because it’s a complicated thing that deserves its own post). And Wyll wants to do good, he wants to help people, to be a positive force in the world so, so badly. This dude got abducted by a nautiloid, got tadpole’d, and the first thing he did right after that was come across the Tiefling refugees and be like “Oh you need help? No worries let me teach you self defense. Oh you being attacked by goblins? Let me blast them real quick”. His way of saying fuck you to all the awful things that have happened to him is being aggressively good and kind. Mizora knows this very well, wants to see him suffer for her amusement, wants to remind him he can't escape her claws, so her choice of punishment was to forever taint his future interactions with mistrust and suspicion. Some people can go real fast from “oh thank God they saved me” to “oh no, are they gonna rob me, are they trying to trick me, are they in cahoots with the ones that attacked me first?” just because of outward appearances. Especially in DnD world. And that deserves its own conversation, but we're focusing on Wyll here.

(Mizora, when I catch you Mizora)

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t have made a deal in the first plac- - “ He was seventeen, alone, preyed upon by Mizora and put in an impossible situation. Please PAY ATTENTION to the story you’re witnesing.

Anyway.

About the tieflings. I know it’s easy to think his words can be derisive towards them, but it’s less about the horns and more about his body being changed against his will. Imagine instead that he got half his face burned, or something that disfigured him. I think his feelings at the moment were closer to that, and yeah they are pretty insensitive words to say to someone with a similar condition (horns or disfiguration), but when feelings are fresh and raw like that it’s easy to say insensitive things. Not saying it was ok for him to say them, but there was no malice in his words. I’ve also seen some people share that they think Mizora wanted to change him more to make him unrecognizable to his original self, the Wyll Ravenguard kid, and I think there is some truth to that too. She wants to make sure that Wyll remembers that he belongs to her, there's no question to that.

(MIZORA, WHEN I CATCH YOU MIZORA)

Whether the Tieflings refugees would feel unsettled by Wyll or not? Yes. In a way, they would. From reasons aside from the ones I explained above, remember that these specific tieflings come from Elturel. If you didn’t pass the History check or don’t remember, Elturel is a city that was literally ripped from the land and dragged to Avernus, First layer of hell (it left a hole on the ground and everything) because their mayor made a deal with the Archdevil Zariel some decades back in the timeline. He sold the souls of all its citizens and the city itself.

This was probably one of the worst times of their lives. Some even got captured and forced to participate in the blood War, like Dammon as a mechanic. And after Elturel got returned to the surface, the tieflings lost their homes because they reminded the other citizens of the literal Hell they’d just gone through, and they kicked them out. And remember, they met and saw Wyll as a human, and then saw him with horns. It’s not unreasonable to think that by looking at him they would be reminded of all the events that led them to the awful situation they’re in. Because of someone that was making deals with devils, just like Wyll. Even if his situation is completely different. And Wyll knows that, that’s why he tells you the tieflings are unsettled by him and chooses to stay away during the party.

It was never just about the horns.

And I know Wyll calls himself a devil but I think it’s because it’s the closest thing he looks as; devils are a whole different race with their own intricacies, although humans can be turned into devils ONCE their souls go to Avernus and they start climbing the power hierarchy there (Mizora and Raphael are cambions/ half-devils btw, which is a different thing,  there are plenty of videos exploring those details more in depth).

Do I think Larian should have made some of this information clearer/easier to access? Maybe? but to be fair, it's a game focused and dedicated to a crowd that was already somewhat familiar with the source material, that blew up waay out of what they originally expected to reach. Hopefully they’ll add some clarifications like they did to other quests. 

Anyway these are my two cents to the conversation, have a nice day, and don't hesitate to add your two cents if you feel like it!

[elspeth-tirel]

New Phyrexia As A Cult

Content Warnings: Heavy discussion of cults and cult recruitment, mentions of sexual coercion, abuse, gore in images (New Phyrexian art so if you’re good with that should be all clear)

I’ve seen many people talking about New Phyrexia with the release of Phyrexia: All Will Be One and March of the Machine. And I’ve seen people talk about the misconceptions of New Phyrexia, like assuming it’s a hivemind. Which leads me into the key point I wanted to discuss with this. New Phyrexia isn’t a hivemind, but there’s a reason it’s assumed to be one by most casual fans. I believe it’s most accurately conveyed as a cult, and that analysing and interpreting the specific ways it is like one has a lot of merit for how it is viewed. I’m also aware that most of what I’m saying isn’t new. Am I the first person to say New Phyrexia is a cult? No. But most of the time, I’ve seen people simply use it as a pejorative term to add on to the list of problematic buzzwords to attach when criticising New Phyrexia or the Praetors. And regardless of whether I agree with those people, I do feel it warrants much deeper exploration into why New Phyrexia is a cult.

I know this post likely will stir up a lot of people saying some not positive things about me and it but I felt it needed to be said. To those people who have a knee jerk reaction towards this and are going to immediately want to send me something criticising this, I don’t anticipate you’ll read all of this. But at the end of the document I did include a list of questions I anticipate a few readers will ask, and I would simply like to politely ask that you read that segment before sending anything to me or replying to this post.

To start talking about cults and the nature of New Phyrexia as one, it’s first necessary to answer a few important background questions. Many people are going to ask if I have personal experience with a cult. To that, yes I have, I was raised in one from birth until around age 17. I would not like to discuss this further, I am simply including this so people know when I speak here I know what I am talking about. Another important thing is the definition of a cult. What differentiates a cult from any other religion? Many people disagree on the exact definition, and every now and again you’ll get someone claiming that all religions are cults. But simplifying it that much loses track of the real harm cults do to a person. I feel a key aspect for what a cult is is Dr. Steve Hassan’s BITE model. BITE stands for Behaviour control, Information control, Thought control, and Emotion control. The key difference between a religion and a cult is one of control. Cults invade every sense of your being, they seek to make it so you don’t have a life outside the cult and what is necessary to maintain it. This is why it’s so difficult for people to leave them. There’s a sense of fear of the unknown. That if you leave there’ll be nothing out there for you. Who knows, maybe they made you do terrible things you can never undo, how will the people who weren’t there forgive you? You can accept the bad parts, because the good parts are there and there’s this giant fear of what will happen if you face the unknown, if you leave. Which brings me to my first major discussion point: Ixhel.

For the unaware, Ixhel is the protagonist of the Phyrexia: All Will Be One side story A Hollow Body, by Aysha U. Farah. It’s a fantastic read, I would highly recommend anyone who finds this essay at all interesting read it. For a brief summary, Ixhel was created by Atraxa- who was herself formerly a Mirrordin angel before every Praetor save Urabrask compleated her- to be used as a soldier/assassin. She feels devoted to Atraxa, but tries to suppress her other feelings- the feeling of love, of want of affection and approval. Throughout the story, she faces challenges to this suppression: a phyrexian named Belaxis who aids her in her mission, the Thane of Contracts himself, Geth, who challenges her on her devotion even as she kills him, and Atraxa herself in the end. She successfully completes her mission to slay Geth, but his words bother her. About her being a faceless drone, replaceable. So she takes Belaxis and Geth, and uses the Dominus of the Dross Pits to combine them into one being, now named Vishgraz. 

Atraxa is furious at the idea of their creation. But it’s not necessarily their creation itself that she really has an issue with. It’s that the creation was made without being ordered to. Vishgraz represents a threat to her not in their existence but in showing that Ixhel took an action other than what was ordered, even if she did it in hopes of imitating her superior in the cult. Because if she can take one action away from orders, she can take more. And that is a threat to her loyalty, which must be punished to ensure she stays in line, to ensure she stays another faceless drone. And Ixhel does take another action aside from orders, an even more direct disobedience: she spares Vishgraz’s life when ordered to kill them. 

Ixhel represents someone born into a cult. She only ever did what was ordered, because it was all she knew. But cults are not a natural state of mind, they’re a method of control that can be broken free from. And this shows with Ixhel. She obeyed mindlessly, until she was given another option, an idea of what could help her, what could make her fix those feelings she had been taught to ignore and repress. This is a common experience, it’s certainly one I went through. It’s not the only experience with cults though. Because another thing to mention is recruitment, and Phyrexia: All Will Be One provides a great example of this too.

Another aspect of the storyline for this set was the idea of compleated planeswalkers. This is a new thing for Magic, with the idea introduced in Kamigawa: Neon Dynasty, with Tamiyo. However this was most fully analysed during Phyrexia: All Will Be One’s main story, by Seanan McGuire (who also did a fantastic job with that story, I would highly recommend that one as well). But something I recently came to the realisation of, that I have not seen discussed, is the common factor between every single compleated planeswalker: they’re all the exact types of people who are most vulnerable to recruitment by cults.

If you’re reading this and thinking “most vulnerable” I want you to keep in mind I mean exactly that. Anyone is vulnerable to recruitment by a cult, especially if you think you’re too smart to be recruited. And that’s where our first victim I’ll discuss comes in, Jace Beleren. Jace is a man who prides himself on his intelligence, on his skill with his mind. But in the story, he falls prey to New Phyrexia because he underestimates them, and overestimates his own skills. The love of his life, Vraska, has clearly fallen to compleation. But he thinks he can be smarter; he can use his illusion and mind magic to give her one last day, one last day together with him, where they can pretend like she hasn’t been infected. And that is what makes him be taken in by the cult.

Jace fell for it because he wanted to be clever and thought he was too smart, but also out of love and devotion to someone else who fell. I believe even if he knew what would happen he would do it again out of devotion. And who knows, the story so far seems to imply he had a plan, that he knew what he was doing. Maybe I’ll be proven wrong and he’ll turn out on top of this situation. But even so, he still lost to New Phyrexia due to this.

Next off is Vraska, another key type to fall for cults. Vraska throughout her entire life has been abused by society, a victim of racism and police brutality. All of those are horrific acts done against her. And cults reach out to those people, they tell them they have the answer, that if they simply follow them they will find the ability to help other downtrodden like themselves, or find a sense of community with others who will not judge them, so long as they follow the rules. Lukka is also very similar to this, but slightly different. Lukka is an outcast, rejected by his entire society, like a very extreme example of ostracisation and bullying. Humans are naturally social creatures, and this can easily be turned against us with a want for acceptance leading us to take abuse we should not tolerate. New Phyrexia also promises him strength, the strength with which he can avoid being hurt again, which he can use to carve a new place in this world and hurt everyone who hurt him, but much much worse. 

Nahiri also falls under a similar umbrella with Lukka, but slightly less self motivated. Nahiri has a burning desire for revenge, for power against the figure in her life who let her down, Sorin Markov. But also, she believes in her heart of hearts that she is a protector, that everything she’s doing is to protect her homeland and her people, the Kor. And what leads her to being compleated is this sense of protection. She sacrifices her own health and her chance at a cure because she wants to ensure the success of the mission of stopping New Phyrexia. And her self sacrifice to do this may have helped the mission succeed, but it doomed her to fall.

Nissa is very similar to her here actually, as she also fell due to helping someone. She trusted Lukka, and tried to help him to the end, and this led her right into New Phyrexia’s trap. Others who fell this way too include Ajani and Tamiyo. They all trusted someone or sought to protect someone, and that trust was used against them. This shows the type of people who fall for cults because they are selfless. Those who fall because they don’t see a value in their own worth as an individual, but do see it as a collective. This is one of the major flaws of white mana: it’s bad at putting yourself first. It’s so easy to simply fall in line with a cult when you’re used to falling in line and obeying to help the greater good, because with the right words it’s easy to convince anyone that anything is the greater good. It feels safe to take some sacrifice, because after all, we’re taught to admire martyrs. We’re taught to emulate, and share. And those are good instincts don’t get me wrong, one of the most beautiful things about humanity is our capacity for love for our fellow man, the ability for strangers to care for strangers so readily just because they need help. But cults take advantage of that, and New Phyrexia is no different. 

This is also touched on in the story Cinders, by Cassandra Khaw. This story is unique because it showcases an aspect of New Phyrexia we haven’t touched on here, the Quiet Furnace. While most aspects of New Phyrexia are definitely considered bad, the Quiet Furnace is the one I’ve seen the most arguments for about it being ethical and good. And while it has the most potential for good with this freedom, it also shows more of how cults prey on the most vulnerable. In the story, a Mirran woman, Reyana, is tempted towards compleation by Slobad. Reyana lost everything. She’s fighting a war she never asked to fight, constantly on the run, constantly in fear for her life. And they show her her mother. At peace with the cult, happy, caring. A lot of people join cults simply to follow loved ones. And this is the exact way Reyana joined. A key thing to showcase that this was not genuine freedom, that despite this promise of peace this was a corruption of herself, is the consequences after. Does Slobad and his group allow the Mirrans to freely mingle with the compleat, to simply talk among them knowing they chose differently? No. While he claims this is a free choice, he also artificially holds back interaction between the cultists and their Mirran family, all interaction unless it is for the purpose of recruitment. This shows the real reason for all of this. It’s a show, a show that things can be good, a promise that life will be better if you join and obey, because those you care about made that choice too. If they really believed in this freedom of choice, the Quiet Furnace would not shun contact with Mirrans, simply tolerating their presence without compleating them, it would embrace contact with them, embrace the diversity of perspective those who did not choose the same as the compleat bring to the table. There are good people among the phyrexians, people who believe what they are doing is right and towards peace, towards helping everyone come to a common understanding. Most criticisms of New Phyrexia I’ve seen make the mistake of calling them all monsters, not thinking for a moment that they aren’t monsters, but people, people who made a bad choice for good reasons. But those people don’t realise that they themselves are a victim, a lure in a trap to make others take a choice they never would’ve made otherwise, with the threat of losing contact with their loved ones if they don’t make that leap.

Another point to consider is what cults offer you, and what New Phyrexia offers you. People join cults because they promise something they lack. Most often that is a sense of community, of welcoming, of becoming, and of love. The price to pay is simply your individuality. When you think about New Phyrexia, that fits perfectly in theme. The oil takes away your worries, it makes you unconcerned with what troubled you prior to your compleation. It doesn’t feel like something wrong, something infecting you, it feels like…. completion. Like something you’ve always been missing has been found. And that’s alluring. That’s genuinely a tempting proposition. Think to yourself, what price would you be willing to pay to not have to think for yourself anymore, to be able to feel safe and just live day to day. That’s the promise of cults. And that’s the promise of New Phyrexia. But it’s not a healthy promise. Following charismatic leaders blindly simply leads to suffering, whether it’s for you or those outside the cult, or others inside of it. This is even shown in the text, in the story for March of the Machine by K. Arsenault Rivera. 

When Elspeth faces off against Elesh Norn, she has been changed. She gave up her life in a moment of turmoil, sacrificed her being to save the multiverse. And she was ascended because of it, having her sense of self altered and her physical form transmuted, when her only choice otherwise was death. Sound familiar? So when Elspeth threatens Norn's rule of power, what does Norn promise her? Friends among the phyrexians, lovers among them. She points out their similarities, how Elspeth is transformed as well, simply in a way deemed prettier by society, how her form is irrevocably altered, how she has a creed she is following just as much as Norn. And Elspeth does think of this offer, she does look around and think of how happy everyone looks, how content they seem to be to be cogs in a great machine forged with glorious purpose. But Elesh Norn doesn’t even think to talk about the consent of those people in the cult for whether they’d even want to be Elspeth’s friend or lover. Many cult members do end up coerced into relationships they do not want, and this is a showing that Norn is no different from any base cult leader. She knows that people deserve freedom of choice, and freedom of thought. The moment Elspeth realises Norn is wrong, the moment she realises she is nothing like Norn, despite the similarities between her religion and Norn’s cult, is seeing how Norn treats Jin-Gitaxias. Jin raises a simple objection, a logical one, that Norn is spending time discussing and talking while their soldiers, their people, are dying. And Norn tells him to be silent. Chief among all things, cults silence dissent against the leader. One could say that’s the cardinal sin in a cult. And that is what makes Elspeth realise she could never be like Norn. And hopefully, eventually, it is what will help Elspeth keep in touch with her humanity after her transformation. Because no matter what, the key lesson is, even the strongest of us is still vulnerable to temptation, to the urge to lose ourselves in obedience of another. And it's more important now than ever to remember to fight that urge.

Anticipated Questions (FAQ I Suppose But Ahead Of Time)

But I don’t see New Phyrexia this way, I think it’s (Insert X Narrative): That’s your view. You’re entirely entitled to it. This wouldn’t be very much of a good essay talking about cults and the importance of the freedom of choice if I insisted everyone else follow my point of view and agree entirely with everything I’ve said.

Are you saying I’m wrong for liking New Phyrexia?: Not at all. Again with the point before, this is my interpretation I am posting for literary merit in hopes it may interest others and perhaps aid their understanding of New Phyrexia. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking villains. It’s simply an understanding I came to through a lot of thinking about New Phyrexia I felt others may enjoy. The last thing I want is to start some sort of flame war over this. In fact if you use this essay to start such a flame war and try and make others conform to your beliefs, you have missed the point entirely.

Tell me about your personal experience with cults: Respectfully no. I will talk about that to people I am comfortable talking about it with. People who friend me on Discord may ask me, I may answer but I will not mind them asking. Otherwise I prefer not to share.

If you don’t want people to change their views, why did you post this essay?: I was thinking about my personal experience with cults and I thought others may want to see them and it may interest others, and it helped me type out my own personal feelings.

Isn’t it meritorious to discuss how New Phyrexia also has Christofascist elements with the Machine Orthodoxy and the specifics of the religion and how Norn demands they conquer?: For this specific essay, I actually believe no. A key thing a lot of people don’t think about is not all cults are the same belief systems. They don’t all approach with end of the world rhetoric, or some crazy theory, or hatred of others. Sometimes they’re a group preaching love and acceptance and tolerance, and claiming that you will feel much better with the cult. Sometimes they’re groups trying to take in the underserved of society and use their righteous indignation to serve their own ends. It doesn’t matter that New Phyrexia is Christofascist for why it is a cult, for all we care it could be about refusing violence entirely and spreading tolerance and goodwill to non phyrexians and preaching for coexistence. The key common factor is a manipulation of the members and control of their lives.

Despite all this I’m going to send you an ask or DM saying you’re horrible for this post in some moralistic way: Ok.

[m4rv3l-girl]

hi!!! I love ur fics sm and I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is struggling with either ptsd or depression or something and they self harm and bucky walks in on them and cleans them up and comforts them and basically tells them it's not their fault ❤️❤️❤️

The Weight You Carry

Bucky x Y/N

Note: Thank you so much for your request, it is so valued! The topic of this one is obviously heavy and I (very fortunately) haven’t had any close contact with a situation like this. Due to the sensitive nature of the request - I have made the decision not to include any scenes of self-harm. This is something I’ve chosen to do because I would hate to write something unrealistic, harmful or content that will contribute to misconceptions. It’s simply not a subject I am well enough educated or experienced in to do it justice in writing. I’ve tried to stick to what you asked as much as possible, it includes the hurt/comfort themes, some clear emotional trauma and ellusions to past self harm but I have deliberately not included it in this fic. Thanks again, I hope you still enjoy! 🫶

Warnings: Depression. Trauma. Hurt/Comfort.

The bathroom was silent except for Y/N’s ragged breaths and the muffled sounds of her quiet sobs. The kind of silence that felt loud in her ears, reverberating against the cold, tiled walls. The mirror above the sink reflected a warped version of herself—puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and a trembling lower lip she couldn’t quite get under control.

Her hands gripped the edge of the porcelain sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright, the sharp bite of the rim pressing into her palms grounding her in a reality that felt too heavy to bear. She was suffocating under the weight of everything she couldn’t name, couldn’t fix, and couldn’t stop. It was a storm inside her head, a mess of guilt, fear, and exhaustion, swirling endlessly, consuming every bit of light she tried to hold onto.

This wasn’t new. She’d been fighting it for months—years, even. But tonight was one of the bad nights, the kind that snuck up on her, blindsiding her after a day that had been so deceptively normal. That was the cruel thing about it; it never gave her any warning. One moment she was fine, and the next, she was unraveling.

She hadn’t meant to end up here, curled up on the cold bathroom floor, her knees pulled to her chest, her forehead resting against them as she tried to hold herself together. She’d told herself she was just going to splash some water on her face, to take a minute to breathe. But the second she’d locked the door behind her, the dam had broken, and she’d crumpled.

A quiet knock at the door jolted her.

“Y/N?”

The voice was soft, hesitant but unmistakably familiar. Her chest tightened at the sound of it, her tears momentarily forgotten as she froze in place.

It was Bucky. Of course it was.

She didn’t answer, holding her breath as if staying silent would somehow make him go away. She couldn’t let him see her like this—broken, weak, and barely holding on. He didn’t need to deal with her mess on top of everything he carried himself.

“Doll?” His voice came again, quieter this time but no less concerned.

The nickname made her chest ache. He always said it with so much affection, like it was his way of reminding her how much he cared, how much she meant to him. But tonight, it felt like too much—too heavy, too undeserved.

“I know you’re in there,” he said after a beat of silence. His voice was closer now, just on the other side of the door.

“Go away, Bucky,” she finally croaked, her voice barely audible and hoarse from crying.

There was a pause, and for a brief moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then she heard him sigh, the kind of deep, weary sigh that spoke of his own struggles, his own battles.

“Sweetheart, I’m not leaving you like this,” he said gently.

She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head even though he couldn’t see her. “I’m fine,” she lied, the words shaky and unconvincing.

“You’re not,” he replied softly. There was no judgment in his tone, only a quiet determination.

She heard the faint jingle of keys, and her heart sank. Of course, he had the spare key. She’d given it to him months ago when things weren’t as bad, trusting him to use it only if she really needed him.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open slowly. She didn’t look up, too ashamed to face him.

Bucky stepped inside, his frame filling the small doorway. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. She could feel his gaze, heavy with concern, and it only made her want to shrink further into herself.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly.

“Please, don’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

But he was already moving, kneeling down in front of her with a slow, deliberate gentleness that made her heart ache. He didn’t reach for her immediately, instead settling onto the floor a few feet away, giving her the space she so desperately needed.

“I’m here,” he said simply.

Those two words unraveled her completely.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked softly, his brows furrowing.

“For being like this,” she choked out, her hands shaking as she wiped at her face. “For being so…broken.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a steadiness that made her heart clench, he said, “You’re not broken, Y/N.”

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and painful. “Then why do I feel like I am?”

“Because you’ve been carrying too much,” he said simply, his voice steady and sure. “And you’ve been doing it alone.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she finally looked up at him. His blue eyes were filled with a quiet intensity, a depth of understanding that only someone who had been through their own hell could offer.

“It’s not your fault,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “None of this is your fault.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head, cutting her off gently.

“Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re going through, it doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you a burden. It makes you human. And I a human too, one that hurts just as much.”

Her tears came faster, harder, and she didn’t resist when he reached out, his hand brushing against hers.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice softening. “You don’t have to do this alone, Doll. Let me be here for you, the way you’ve been there for me.”

Her resolve crumbled, and she leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around her. His embrace was warm and steady, a safe haven in the midst of her storm.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But can figure it out. One step at a time.”

And for the first time in a long time, she felt a little bit less alone.

——————————————————————————————————

Requests Open!

[galedekarios]

I think the reason some Galemancers think the astral scene is the “lesser choice” is because you get 5 extra approval points if you choose the bed scene. Both are good! But that’s what I would think. Also, I believe the astral scene pushes him towards the crown more vs the bed.

thank you for your message, anon, and for trying to explain!

however, i think there's some confusion and (unintentionally, i'm sure) false information here that i'd like very, very much to clear up:

a) approval points

both choices have the exact same approval points attached to them: five in both cases.

astral sea scene:

Player: I'll remind you we're newly acquainted, not newlyweds. Gale: Then we'll start writing the prequel. Gale: What do you say? Player: I think that sounds delightful - but I don't see a bed. ['Gale 5']

old ways scene:

Player: I don't need illusions. I want the Gale standing right in front of me. Gale: Are you sure...? I could conjure up any sight that you could dream of, and a few you could not. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could do more than woo you. I could wow you. Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no goddess., FEMALE ['Gale 5'] Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no god., MALE ['Gale 5'] Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no deity. ['Gale 5']

you can net five approval points in the last night alive scene in other ways too:

telling gale you love him:

Player: I'm in love with you too. ['Gale 5']

2. leaning in for a kiss:

Player: Lean in for a kiss. ['Gale 5']

3. gale also doesn't mind if you change your mind during the astral sea scene and want to return to the 'real' world:

Player: It's beautiful, but it's you I want to be with. The man, not the illusion. ['Gale 5'] - Player: I want to be with the real Gale - the man, not the fantasy. ['Gale 5']

these are NOT extra points. you will ONLY get these if you didn't choose the "Player: I think that sounds delightful - but I don't see a bed. ['Gale 5']" option in the same dialogue tree i listed above to follow through to the astral sea scene, but instead return to the "old ways" scene (gale snaps his fingers and the illusion of waterdeep disappears).

4. the friendship version of the scene also allows the player to not five approval points if the player chooses to stay with gale under the stars:

Gale: Yes... but there is so much to live for, and so few moments in which to house it all.Approval_AtLeast_30_For_Sp6 Gale: Damn you. Damn you for giving me so much to care about. Our friends, our adventures... this would have been so much easier if it was just me. But it isn't. Gale: If there is a way - any way - to save all that's grown dear to me, I want to seize it. I just cannot fathom what that might be, other than to fail Mystra and condemn the world. Gale: Stay with me, will you? I don't want to think of it any more, but I don't want to be alone either. Player: Stay with him and watch the stars in silence. ['Gale 5']

the second part i want to address because that is (again, i'm sure it's completely unintentional so no worries, anon, and/or a misconception/misunderstanding) false information:

b) choosing the astral sea scene pushes gale towards the crown

that is completely factually wrong and i felt it was important to clear that up. there is not a singular flag in the entirety of the scene's files that determines pushing gale away or towards godhood, away or towards the crown.

not one.

which makes sense because at that point in time, neither gale nor the protag even know about the crown. it's only at the end of act 2 that you find out about it, and it triggers gale's act 3 choice to pursue the crown (and godhood) or not to.

the only flags set in gale's act 2 romance scene is if you push him towards sacrificing himself or making him understand that he doesn't have to do that and that you'll find another way with him.

i've detailed that in a meta post about those flags.

if you would like to check the file for youself, you need to open "CAMP_GalesLastNightAlive_SD_ROM", which contains gale's act 2 romance scene.

the only other flags that appear in this scene are the following:

ORI_State_Partnered = False / True

ORI_State_DatingGale

CAMP_GalesLastNightAlive_SD_ROM_Event_CollateralDamage = False / True

ORI_Gale_Event_PushTowardsDeath

ORI_Gale_Event_PushAwayFromDeath

as well as the flags for approval (to determine which scene variation you get -> low approval, friendship, romance) and for karlach, as she has special dialogue in this romance scene with gale, depending on whatever or not she got the second upgrade that allows her to be able to touch.

again, my goal here is just to clear up misinformation about the scene. none of the two versions have a disparity in approval or have a 'negative' consequence attached to them in terms of flags.

what i, personally, find interesting and what i would like to add at the end of this post are the devnotes. we don't have that many in this scene, however, gale makes it clear that if you pick the 'old ways' scene - which is, in and of itself, a perfectly valid choice to make btw depending on how you rp your character, and i have two characters myself who have different ways of doing this scene - the devnote makes it very clear that gale is bowing to the player's preference.

it's not his wish. it's the player's wish.

and it's a wish that he respects to the utmost:

Player: It's beautiful, but its you I want to be with. The man, not the illusion. Gale: The old ways then. If that is what you wish, so be it. devnote: Tactful, bowing to the player's desires Gale: A small gesture towards your comfort.

all in all, i think personal preference is something else entirely, but i do think - looking at everything i've laid out here - it's very sad to see one scene painted as the 'lesser' for reasons that are factually wrong.

if ppl are interested to read a post taking on a more favourable reading of the astral sea version of gale's act 2 romance scene and want to understand why some people might prefer it, i'd greatly recommend this meta by @clericofgale. i've also talked about my own feelings (this is my personal opinion) in the tags of this post:

#i've spoken about this already but the amount of times i had to read derisive takes on the astral sea scene #because people think that making gale understand that he is more than his magic #is the same as separating him entirely from it #it does him a great disservice when it's such a great part of his life #you are romancing a wizard and a wizard comes with magic #i think it's also important to note that gale believes this is his quite possibly last night #the scene is literally titled that in the files: 'last night alive' #it's not a show it's love and acceptance and vulnerability #he is trying to share what he can and as much as he can with the person he loves in what little time may be left to him #he shows you his home and bares his soul to you in hopes you'll accept him in his entirety for who he is and the things he holds dear #when you deny him he acquiesces but he is doing so on your wishes and your comfort alone - not for his

again, thank you for your message, anon! 🖤

[mrs-kodzuken]

K.K.T.K on my wrist ♡

Pairing: Kōtarō Bokuto x Keiji Akaashi x fem!reader x Tetsurō Kuroo x Kenma Kozume

WC: 1.9k

Genre: soulmate au, fluff, slice of life

CW: fem!reader, four soulmates, poly relationship, fluff, very soft and sweet

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

When I was a little girl, I thought about how a prince would show up outside my bedroom window. He'd take me away to his castle and marry me, treating me with kindness.

Then we'd live happily ever after, just like in the movies.

However, the hardships that came with being a princess made me think that I could handle them. As it turns out, that's not how life is at all.

Not at all.

Plenty of hardships are thrown at you left and right. and it's all about how well you deal with it.

As I got older, my fantasies became more realistic. I wanted to live a small, easy life with the person I so dearly loved.

A small child or kitten running around, giving us entertainment.

Living out our lives to the fullest and being content with simplicity. We didn't need anything more or anything less.

That's how I've always imagined it.

As it turns out, life does throw things at you, but this one was one of the best hardships I'll ever came to love.

And it all begins at the young age of sixteen. A fresh high school student, worried about what people thought about them.

Their hair, clothes, grades, and sometimes even a boyfriend or girlfriend.

However, most of those thoughts got quickly brushed away. On a person's sixteenth birthday, initials will appear on their dominant wrist.

The absolute heart racing feeling full of wonder of who your special significance other could be.

Maybe it was someone who lives halfway across the world. Maybe someone who goes to the same school as you. Maybe someone you grew up with.

Or maybe someone you just happen to know from the internet.

Whatever it may be, they will be bound to meet. Some people say it's fate. Some say even destiny.

However, I just thought it was a clear misconception for me.

I had my dreams significantly crushed by four initials on my wrist. Oh, how I used to despise them—the hate that fueled through me when I looked at my wrist.

Looking back, it was harsh and childish. Life is unexpected; things happen. However, this one was one that's stuck in my favorites, even if it was the opposite of everything I always wanted.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The bedroom window was open a bit as the rain fell from the sky. Small devices lit up here and there around the room.

It was an easy night for all of us. Even Kōtarō was quiet, which sparked an interest in me. I was keeping myself busy by reading a book I had been wanting to catch up on.

While also laying on Keiji, who had been next to me reading some other kind of book.

Our beloved Kenma was in the next room over, streaming. The door was slightly ajar, leaving space for the blue rays of light to show on the wall.

I could hear small splashes of water coming from the bathroom. A small, unnoticeable smile gracing my strawberry-colored lips.

No matter how many times I knew water calmed that beautiful boy down, I couldn't get over it.

I had run the bath myself, even adding a few bathroom toys and bubbles, despite it being the late hours of the night. And despite that he was a grown man, we don't in this house.

If I had listened hard enough, I could hear Tetsu downstairs. The soft noise of most likely midnight snacks being made.

It seemed as if we were all content in the house we called home. A shiver ran down my back as I felt the soft breeze come from the window.

The skies were pitch black; if it were a normal night, I'd be on the roof with Tetsu and Keiji. We'd point out the constellations and watch the stars.

It was one of my favorite things to do with them.

If it were later in the afternoon and the sun was slightly straying from the clouds and the rain was soft, Kōtarō would be dancing in the rain with me.

We'd sing our hearts out, then get scolded by our lovely boyfriend, Keiji, who quite possibly seemed like the only sane one in the house.

Besides Kenma half of the time.

The days that it was sunny, and I wished silently that it would rain. Kenma would softly take my hand and lead me to the kitchen.

Even though we both shared the hatred of sunny days, we'd bake something.

Whether it be healthy or not, burnt or just right, muffins or cupcakes. So, our house constantly smells like a bakery. When we wouldn't feel up to baking, a movie was our next best thing.

On hard days when I felt like I really needed something to just get my mind off for a little while, Kuroo was my go-to person.

We'd run to the park and back, putting the stress into exercising. Sometimes, just sitting down with him on a park bench and watching everyone pass by was enough.

However, Keiji was by far the one who comforted me in a strange but loving way. He's the only one I'd talk to. I'd spill all my thoughts to, read a book with, cry to, and observe with.

Being very compatible with each and every one of them made life exciting and, oddly, calming.

"Are you cold? We can shut the window if you'd like." Keiji turned his head toward me, pausing his reading.

"I'll put on a hoodie," I said, shaking my head and loving the smell of rain. However, he knew that that would be my answer.

I'd always wrap up in multiple clothing layers instead of shutting the window.

It was a habit.

I crawled away from him as I watched Keiji place my bookmark in the place I was reading.

Slipping on my pink slippers, I walked out of the room, heading towards the clothing room.

Who knew that living with four other people would bless you with an enormously large house? However, the income we all made could quite possibly also be a reason.

As I walked past Kenma's gaming room, I peered in. My eyes were watching him a bit, I could tell even from when he was turned around that his eyes were glued to the screen.

Knowing Kenma, I knew he wasn't wearing his glasses that protected his eyes. He needed them now more than ever, since it's the late hours of the night.

Backing out, I quickly but quietly moved downstairs. His glasses were on the living room coffee table, if I remembered correctly.

When I was on the first floor, I moved to the living room, where his glasses were. Picking them up, I felt the coldness from how long they've been left alone.

The kitchen light on, curiosity peering through me. I peeked in at the sight of Tetsu sitting on the counter, scrolling on his phone.

He was most likely trying to figure out what we'd be feeling up for to eat after rummaging through our cabinets. God, he could be doing nothing and still look so handsome.

I smiled a little and headed back upstairs. Opening Kenma's door more, I could hear soft grunting from him.

Probably because of a level he was having trouble with.

Setting the glasses close to his keyboard, I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the temple. He nodded, his cheekbones glowing with a rouge pink shade.

That small peck meant, 'Please don't forget to wear them.' I could always express myself with small things without actually saying them to Kenma and Keiji.

Usually, I'd have to express my thoughts in a verbal way when it came down to Kō and Tetsu. However, I knew not everyone would be an introvert or just a mind reader.

When I left the room, leaving it cracked like before, I saw his game pause and him slip on the clear glasses.

I made my way back to the room, forgetting about the hoodie I needed to get. When I entered, I saw Kōtarō curled up against Keiji.

His hair was slightly dripping wet, making me cringe a bit.

I spotted his towel, which he had brought back with him instead of hanging up in the bathroom. I softly grabbed it and made my way to him.

He perked up; his yellow eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter in the dark.

"The water will make the bed wet, hon" I softly said, lightly ruffling his hair with the towel.

His arms wrapped around my waist as I continued to get the water out. Wetness and comfortable covers do not mix in my book or even on my book.

I could hear him sigh happily as I played with his hair, trying to get out all the water.

Glancing over to Keiji, his glasses were off, and our books had been set elsewhere. It's movie time.

Kenma would come from his gaming in around fifteen to twenty minutes from now. We'd all cuddle on the bed and watch a cartoon movie.

I walked to the bathroom, setting Kōtarō's towel on his hook. In a house of five people, organization was the best key.

After I cut the lights off, I walked back to see a movie picked up and Kuroo coming upstairs with our midnight snacks.

When I made sure everyone was comfortable in bed, I went to get Kenma. I could basically feel the exhaustion radiating off him. Knowing that he wouldn't get off the game unless someone actually got him.

As I got closer, I gently put my arms around his back. I did it every single time I wanted him to get off the game. I could tell he was fighting himself, wanting to go another round but agreeing.

Soon his system was off and his left hand locked in my right one, walking into our bedroom. We climbed into bed; the rotation was different this weekend.

Each day or week, we'd switch the rotation of who gets to spoon who. It wasn't my idea since I couldn't care less if I was spooning or getting spooned.

However, being the only girl it was kinda nice with everyone being bigger than me, it was kind of hot some nights too.

This time around, Tetsu was spooning me, and I happened to be spooning Kōtarō. After we finished the snacks, I couldn't resist the sleep, which called my name.

Since there were five of us, we couldn't possibly fit in a bed. So we decided to just get one of the biggest; even if we did spoon, I'm sure at least one of us would end up kicking another off the bed.

This has always been how our stay-up nights have been and I wouldn't change it for the world.

When I was a little girl, I thought about how a prince would show up outside my bedroom window. He'd take me away to his castle and marry me.

Well, now that I'm older, it's safe to say that I've got four princes who I was fated with. They agreed to live together with me, and the need to marry wasn't in our minds.

We all knew the reassurance of each other never leaving the other. But if one of us did happen to want to marry? I guess we could.

But this is the end of our weekend night and there was nothing out there that would make me give it up.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad. I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Say what you have to say about the tiktok(about what zak said) i need someone to yap about this

this is in reference to this post

i feel like i always need to make disclaimers before this sort of thing. i love lando. i love oscar. i'm not hating on any of them. i receive no joy from hating on either of them. i'm only saying what i have seen, and what i have understood. people can disagree with me. as long as you do it respectfully, i don't mind.

now. coming to the post.

zak, and mclaren overall, made it extremely clear last season that they don't have a number one driver. usually, teams have a number one driver. they have two competent drivers, and the one who performs better is the number one driver, so that the team can bring home the wcc and the wdc.

with the lack of backing from mclaren to lando, it's clear that they don't have a number one driver. they backed him too late, and when he eventually lost, they claimed that a wdc was never their plan. a lot of people, ex drivers and ex principals and such, told them to focus on both, and to back the driver as well, because it could just end up being a once in a lifetime opportunity. we don't know what's going to happen with the 2025 car (touchwood), but when given the opportunity, they stuck to their no number one driver policy.

nothing wrong with having two number one drivers. they want their drivers to race each other on their own, beautiful, as they should. but, when one of them, could be oscar, could be lando, we don't know yet. when one of them performs well, has created a gap between the teammate, is in the top three, i think mclaren needs to get their shit together at that time and back the driver.

last season, their "we do, we don't" thing pissed me off a lot, because it was mixed signals for us, and at one point, it felt like it was mixed signals for the drivers as well. both have to think for themselves, but both also have to think of the team. theyre both competitive and theyre both hungry for wins.

that does not mean that they crash each other out, or make close calls like in monza.

in the post, zak has full right to aim for the constructors and drivers. as he should. he wasn't expecting the constructors in 2024, least of all the drivers. preparing for it now, which includes better strategies, is going to help them in the long run, and that's all that zak means by it.

lando also has full rights to aim for the drivers, because while he was not close last year, he was a contender and he knows now what to do and what not to do. he knows now how to handle that pressure, and he knows what is expected from him. coming p2 in the standings made it entirely possible that he could (will) win wdc this year.

zak is right when he says that lando drove flawlessly in abu dhabi, because he really did. no track limits, no messing up of pitstops, or no locking up, nothing. he was focused and he was confident. all that zak is saying there is that if lando did a repeat of it in 2025, and there was a real chance of him winning the wdc, zak will not hesitate to back him up. this was nothing against oscar. if oscar has a real chance to win the wdc, zak (and especially andrea) will not hesitate to back him up either.

so, no. oscar's 2025 season is not over before it's even started. he's got races to prove himself. so does lando. every driver on the grid has a chance to prove themselves at the start of the season.

and, if either of the two mclaren drivers create a gap and have a real chance at winning wdc, then i think it's completely fair for the other to be a number two driver as long as it doesnt hurt the driver himself.

let me make it clear: number two driver does not mean that he will let the other pass. this was a common misconception amongst fans last year. helping your teammate does not mean rolling over.

and, oscar was not a number two driver last year. i know people like to say that he was, but he really wasn't. he was asked to help lando too late in the season. there were two races (brazil and mexico, i think) where he could have defended against max, and he didn't. he did help in the 10 seconds penalty that lando had received in brazil. and he did help with the brazil sprint. but truly, that's about it. lando repaid the brazil sprint favour in qatar.

i am not the biggest fan of team orders, but when it is necessary, when a wdc is on the line, then i think it must happen.

[pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen]

Living with Borderline Personality Disorder: My Journey of Self-Discovery

As I sit down to write this blog post, I'm filled with a mix of emotions - anxiety, sadness, but also hope and determination. The last few images I've shared have been centered around Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), self-awareness, and the importance of understanding and empathy.

For me, this topic is deeply personal. I've been living with BPD for many years, and it's been a journey of ups and downs, twists and turns. There have been times when I've felt like my emotions are spiraling out of control and I'm powerless to stop them.

But there have also been times of great joy, of deep connection and intimacy with others, of feeling like I'm on top of the world. It's a rollercoaster of extreme emotions, and it can be exhausting.

One of the most challenging aspects of living with BPD is the stigma and misunderstanding that surrounds it. People often view BPD as a "crazy" or "unstable" person, someone who is prone to outbursts and mood swings.

But the reality is far more complex. BPD is a serious mental illness that affects millions of people around the world. It's characterized by intense emotional dysregulation, impulsive behavior, and unstable relationships.

For me, living with BPD means constantly struggling to regulate my emotions. It means feeling like I'm walking on eggshells, never knowing when the next emotional storm will hit.

It means struggling to maintain healthy relationships, because my intense emotions and impulsive behavior can be overwhelming for others. It means I’m constantly feeling like I'm a burden to those around me, like I'm too much to handle.

As someone living with BPD, I've encountered my fair share of hurtful comments and misconceptions. But there's one phrase that never fails to cut deep: "Stop using BPD as an excuse."

Those words are like a punch to the gut, leaving me feeling winded and vulnerable. It's as if the person speaking is implying that I'm somehow faking my struggles, that I'm using my diagnosis as a cop-out or a way to avoid taking responsibility for my actions.

But the truth is, living with BPD is not easy. It's really is a constant struggle to regulate my emotions, to manage my relationships, and to navigate the complexities of everyday life. And when I try to explain myself, to help others understand what I'm going through, I'm met with skepticism and dismissal.

It's not just the words themselves that hurt, but the underlying message they convey. It's as if the person speaking is saying, "I don't believe you. I don't think you're really struggling. You're just making excuses."

Those words are damaging because they imply that I'm not worthy of understanding or compassion. They imply that I'm somehow flawed or defective, that I'm not good enough.

But the truth is, I am enough. I am worthy of love, compassion, and understanding, just like anyone else. And when I try to explain myself, I'm not making excuses – I'm trying to connect, to find common ground, and to build bridges of understanding.

So, to those who would say, "Stop using BPD as an excuse," I will say: “Please, try to understand. Try to see things from my perspective, to walk a mile in my shoes. I'm not making excuses – I'm fighting to be heard, to be seen, and to be understood.”

But despite the challenges, I've learned to live with BPD. I've learned to recognize the signs of an impending emotional storm, and to take steps to calm myself down.

I've learned to communicate more effectively with others, to express my needs and feelings in a way that's clear and respectful. I've learned to prioritize self-care, to take care of my physical and emotional needs.

And I've learned to be kind to myself, to practice self-compassion and understanding. I've learned to recognize that I'm not alone, that there are millions of others out there who are struggling with BPD.

As I look back on the images I've shared, I'm reminded of the importance of self-awareness and empathy. It's so easy to get caught up in our own struggles and challenges, to forget that others are struggling too.

But when we take the time to understand and empathize with others, we create a ripple effect of kindness and compassion. We build stronger, more resilient relationships, and we create a more supportive and inclusive community.

So let's keep talking about BPD, about mental health, and about the importance of self-awareness and empathy. Let's keep sharing our stories, our struggles, and our triumphs.

Let's create a world where people feel supported and empowered, rather than stigmatized or ashamed. A world where we can be our authentic selves, without fear of judgment or rejection.

And to those who are living with BPD, I see you. I hear you. And I believe you. You are not alone, and you are not defined by your diagnosis. You are strong, resilient, and worthy of love and compassion. Keep fighting, keep striving, and know that you are enough.

[yellowbunnydreams]

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 16) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~I was meant to be writing Bunny Ears but I am getting so incredibly frustrated with how it's turning out and I'm not prepared to force myself into compliance and publish something that I'm not happy with. Sorry but hopefully I can clear my head and write it soon!~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu @yondus-girl @puppetstr1ings

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - ??), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama/Angst. Possessive behaviour. Descriptions of a medical nature and disability.

The tension in the quaintly decorated living room almost left a metallic taste in your mouth, unlike the taste of copperish pennies you had somewhat become accustomed to running into in the last however long it had been since you came into William Afton's care, this one carried something cold and acrid behind it. Nobody seemed comfortable.

Faded floral curtains and pillows, dumpy worn out couches and worn out wooden furniture that were cluttered with poorly made clay sculptures that you couldn't even tell what they were meant to be and framed photos that had started to turn sepia in the years of sunlight told of a life well lived and fulfilled. But something about it was...odd. Off. A carefully wandering eye could pick up the dust that could no longer be reached, or perhaps it was no longer cared about. First aid kits and boxes of medications were tucked away out of first impressions line of sight, an unnerving amount of drugs for a singular man to have possession of, photos that looked like they had been folded and partially hidden away. The magazines on the table twenty years or so out of date, locked in a time perhaps happier for the family who lived there.

And then there was Henry Emily himself.

You could make out that once upon a time he was probably strong and wirey. His green eyes carrying an almost unnerving sharpness to them despite the skin that started to be marked with liver-spots and form a paper-thin barrier against the world, bent back and sallow cheeks. Greyish hair unkempt not in a playfully curly way, but like he hadn't had the energy to brush it in a while.

Even the tea he had made for you all seemed weak and cold in your hands as you cradled it between your palms.

"How is the tea?" He finally spoke after what had seemed like forever in silence. Making you jump at the sudden noise before you made a non-commital noise of affirmation. Those green eyes never wavering from William's face even though he was clearly addressing the pair of guests.

"It's..it's what I needed, thank you Mr. Emily." Was your polite reply, taking a sip of the lukewarm beverage and trying to hide your distaste as William brought it to his lips too and you watched as he managed to keep a strong poker face whilst drinking it down in only a few gulps. You were beginning to envy the fact that the vampire couldn't taste.

"Quit staring at me Henry, you're freaking your other guest out if not me." William's gravelly voice broke through and Henry blinked for what felt like the first time in hours.

"You're dead William. You were declared dead over twenty years ago."

"A common misconception."

"'A common misconception'? Misconception?! I remember them dragging the lakes nearby for your body! You disappeared, Clara had fucked off to how knows where and Michael and Elizabeth disappeared shortly after you." You could hear the hurt in the older man's voice as it wavered slightly, watching him swallow hard. You hadn't known William long in the grand scheme of things, but you could tell he was intensely uncomfortable with the way his eyes unwaveringly lingered on some loose threads on the arm of the couch rather than his old friend.

"You were declared dead?" You asked, receiving a stern look from the vampire before he sucked at his teeth. He supposed that Henry's own daughter would have been a little older than you were, he honestly had found it harder to keep track of the ages in his old life the longer it had been since he interacted with it.

"Again, a misunderstanding. I simply needed....to remove myself for a little while."

"You disappeared when your family needed you William. When I needed you." Henry swallowed again as William finally brought his eyes up to meet Henry's like they were old friends once again, that lingering feeling like somebody was supposed to be there with him finally at peace for a multitude of reasons, although he would never admit it.

"I'm sorry."

Henry stared incredulously at the man before him. William Afton did not look different to the last time he saw him, not a day over. He seemed to occasionally glance towards the daylight lamp that the Emily house sported by the medicine cabinet, and then wince away like it hurt him, and Henry certainly didn't recall anybody that would have been around to produce somebody like you. You seemed almost the polar opposite of his former best friend, although you carried your own reserved posture that made Henry wonder what you too had lost. Glancing back at William and then back at you, Henry pursed his lips before speaking again.

"Is this your..." He asked, gesturing his hand vaugely before Afton snorted and shook his head, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms.

"Really Henry? No, she's not my kid, she's....Look, we're travelling together right now, she's been a life-saver." You glanced at the vampire and wondered if he was feeling alright. The closest thing you'd had to a compliment from him, aside from when he had called you pretty in that always slightly demeaning way like it was your only redeeming quality.

"Right...Aren't you going to ask about Charlie then? It's...It's been a while, she was still in the hospital when you left." William stiffened slightly next to you, and you recalled Elizabeth mentioning somebody called Charlie when you had unfortunately met.

"I wasn't aware that she had..."

"No. The doctors have said she'll never walk again, she can't speak. I can only pray that she isn't stuck in her own mind."

The silence was deafening, William's stony, sculpted face twitched with hints of many emotions that you couldn't decipher in that moment, but you said nothing. Henry obviously wasn't aware of what William was, and mentioning it could damage whatever frail olive branch either man had, but you swore for a split second that Afton's face was riddled with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Henry." Henry's face softened as he looked down at his hands, wringing them together as he seemed to contemplate something for a moment before sighing.

"Me too, Will."

Looking between the two men, you saw Afton's expression softening in a way that it never did when he looked at you. There was an unexplained pang in your chest at the realisation, that you had started developing sincere feelings for William Afton despite all you had been through thanks to him, but that they would never be returned as you watched the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled at Henry sadly. The lopsided smile that revealed dimples and smile lines.

You had almost forgotten that you were a convenience for him.

The sound of an alarm going off near to Henry was what made you jump out of your pity party, seeming to Snap William out of whatever his thoughts were too as Henry pulled out his phone whilst muttering an apology and pressing the screen to dismiss the alarm, sighing and running his fingers through his lack-lustre curls.

"Sorry, that's my alarm to remind me to go and get Charlie into bed. I should-"

"How about I go and get her sorted?" You offered, watching both of the older men blink slowly in surprised before Henry's shoulders relaxed a little more. "You two seem to have a lot to talk about and catch up on, I don't mind."

"Are you sure? She can be quite heavy..."

"I've dragged William's drunk ass home, I'm sure Charlie will be fine." Giving a warm smile and watching William scowl before Henry's laugh distracted him. Devolving into a rattling cough after a moment that made the taller man move couches and gently pat his friend's back in a soothing motion. You supposed that once, he had been a dad after all. But you left them to it, William comforting Henry as they said nothing about his frail condition.

Despite the fact that you never got directions from Henry, you somehow managed to find your way through the house, something whispering in the back of your mind like it had when you first arrived at Freddy's.

That did not leave you with a good feeling.

--

The whirr and beep of medical devices alerted you to where you needed to be, seeing a woman who looked closer to Elizabeth Afton's age than yours sat in a wheelchair, staring at a TV that seemed to be playing a random channel that it had been switched onto at some point. You recognised it as being a kid's channel, but now her gaunt features were illuminated by the static screen that apologised for the end of scheduled programming.

You could see from what little of the room that wasn't taken up by the large hospital bed and moving equipment, that the room was a shrine to when Charlie Emily had come to be as she was now. Faded pink walls and brighter outlines on the paint where butterfly stickers had once been placed with care, a beaten up white dresser that now stored medical supplies rather than the colourful outfits of childhood. She was rail thin, pale, but her dark hair was immaculate and she was dressed in comfortable, clean clothing that showed no sign of being distressed in any way.

It was clear that despite his own complications, whatever they were, that Henry took immense care of his daughter.

As you grabbed the handles on the wheelchair to move her closer to the bed, you noticed the way her hair sat against the back of her neck wasn't quite right. Frowning, you brushed the hair aside and felt your fingers pausing as you revealed a slightly mangled, but large scar across the back of her neck. Almost like something had grabbed at four separate points and dragged inwards, Charlie gave a tiny twitch as you touched them, and you felt sorry for whatever had happened to the young woman.

"Sorry Charlie, I offered to put you into bed for your dad." You offered your name, like she was going to respond as she continued to stare blankly ahead, blinking slowly like her papery lids were heavy against her sunken sockets.

'You're the first person in a while to actually speak like I'm a person.'

Your head whipped around, searching for the voice. Heart pounding in your chest as a cold breeze brushed across the back of your neck. You knew that you had felt something off, but this wasn't the sort of confused, sad feeling that seemed to accompany the ghosts of Freddy's, including Evan. No, this seemed sad still, but far more....bored?

"Charlie?"

'In the...Well, I would say flesh, but that would sort of be a lie wouldn't it?'

You stopped looking after a moment, and then you saw her. A greyish shape from the corner of your eye that only certain features could be made out from. Dark, curled hair, a green t-shirt. It seemed to flicker and fluctuate between being small like a child and larger like the physical body in front of you.

"But you're not dead....and you're not surprised I can hear you." The tone was perhaps slightly accusatory as you gently reached under her body and picked her up with a grunt, placing her onto the bed and jumping slightly as you realised the eyes had rolled over to focus on you.

'No, I'm....between. Didn't quite die, but I'm not exactly living it either, am I? I suppose I've always hoped that somebody could hear me, dad just thinks he's imagining things when he occasionally picks up on it.' Charlie shuddered again as the grey shape passed by, the eyes rolling about slowly in the sockets and you watched as her left hand twitched slightly, though nothing more as the shape passed onto the other side of the room. Constantly in your peripherals.

"I... I suppose you've sort of aged with your body then?" Hearing what might have been a laugh from the not-quite ghost who seemed rather invested in communicating with you, and you weren't sure you blamed her, seeing the way her physical body was before you whilst you tucked in the covers carefully around her.

There was no answer for a moment, but you felt the cold circling around near by. It was always a strange feeling when the ghosts were around, but you had sort of gotten used to the few times that it had popped up. Charlie was the one. aside from Evan, who had lingered most, and you were curious if she could articulate what had happened to her.

'Sort of. It's a bit weird....'

'Can I ask a question....or rather a favour?'

"Sure, what do you need? Not to be stuck on the kid's channel all day? Are you in pain?" You asked, side-eyeing the ghost as you brushed some dark hair from her physical face.

'Can you get Uncle Will to finish the job that he started twenty years ago?'

"What do you mean?" Brow furrowed in confusion as the woman in front of you gave a shuddering sigh, like the ghost influenced her still physical and alive body.

'I want him to actually kill me this time.'

[theblue6ook]

The Young Years

Summary: This is a prequel to "Shit Interview" in the “Out of My League” series. Read about Bruce and Y/N as troubled little kids. What about their struggles make them work? (Hint: it's their troubled past.)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Also, that “eventual slow-burn” is for when they are ADULTS, don’t be bringing the kids into this. There is also blood, death, and annoying children in this fic. You've been warned. [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Loss [B(8) Y/N (6)]

They weren't dead immediately.

Bruce stood and watched as his father, proud and tall, rocketed towards the ground. He heard his head crack against the concrete and saw the hole in his chest. He watched his unconscious father choke and gurgle until his chest rattled. One. Last. Time.

He heard his mother scream as one of the bullets ricocheted into her ribs, but his mother... oh, his mother. She fought. Blood poured out of her, hands grasped her neck, and shook off her jewelry; she didn't care. She threw herself onto the sidewalk, wide-eyed and stubborn. Her fingertips dug into the concrete, her nails bled, and she crawled to her son. She choked and spat and crawled. Bruce stood horrified. Eight years old, he stood petrified by the back entrance of the theater.

They weren't dead immediately.

It's a common misconception. It happened so quickly. By the time the theater workers had rushed out to the sound of gunshots, Martha was half delirious. She might as well have been dead. But she wasn't, and Bruce knew that. He would never not know that.

-

Y/N’s bottom became numb against the hardwood steps. The raised wood was cold- my god- it was so cold, and yet she still wouldn’t move. She couldn’t move. She had to sit, staring at the open screen door. Maybe she’ll come back if I sit here long enough. In her heart, she knew she was wrong. She had just wanted a glass of water; she didn’t mean to catch her mother halfway out the door.

Y/N hadn’t even made it down the stairs when she looked out and saw her mother, luggage in tow, walking out on them. One. Last. Time. She stood on the raised wood stairs, a small hand gripping the handrail, and said nothing. Her mother stood in the open doorway, looking back at her, and said nothing. But the look she gave Y/N… it was clear. She would never see her mother again. But maybe… just maybe, if she sits here long enough, she’ll come back.

Name [B(10) Y/N (8)]

Bruce didn’t want to be here. He didn’t understand why Alfred insisted he continue going to Gotham Academy. For the past two years, after what happened to his parents, he had switched to at-home tutoring. Not that he really felt he needed it. He was breezing through the material. He used knowledge and learning as an escape from his parent's death. Every topic he dominated. Every lesson was child's play. So it didn’t make sense to him why he had to come to school today. Alfred kept telling him, you need to have some normalcy. You need to be with kids your age.

I’m not like kids my age anymore. They can’t relate to me. They can’t understand what I’ve been through. It makes him so frustrated. 

As he walks through the hallways, people whisper about him. Is that Bruce Wayne? I didn’t think we’d see him back. Did you see what happened to his parents? It made him sick. It made him angry.

He decided to head to the office. He needed to leave. He can’t do this anymore. The bell rang, perfect timing. The ladies in the office sympathize with him. That’s one thing about having famous dead parents; you get away with anything.

As students were making their way to class, he noticed Bobby White barrel his way through a small girl. Her books went flying. Students filtered out of the hallways, and she just stood there, her hands in little fists. Her knuckles were white. 

He could just walk down the hallway and leave her, but it’s like his mother nagged him in the back of his head, be a gentleman, Brucie. So he quietly walked up to her and leaned down to pick up her books. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She whipped around, surprised to see him, and mumbled, “Yeah.”

I should just give her back her books and go home, he thought, looking over at her. She rubbed her eyes and looked embarrassed. Oh no, here was that nagging again, be a gentleman. He glanced down at her books, room 301. Not far from where he was supposed to be right now.

He silently sighed to himself, “It looks like you're going to 301, I have a class in 304. I can take you over there.”

He barely heard it, but she had whispered, “Okay.” 

Delicately, he held her hand to guide her down the hallway. He was grateful she didn’t ask for his name. He was even more grateful, it didn’t seem like she knew who he was. I don’t care to learn her name anyway, I’m sick of people talking about mine.

-

“I think I’ve heard of the L/N family. Is your dad in oil?”

“No… I really don’t think you would. I’m from the west side.”

“Like by Monolith Square?”

Y/N sighed and mumbled, “Like the Narrows.”

“You mean you’re by Crime Alley?!” Why does this keep happening to me?

Who is your family? Where are you from? Would my daddy know yours? This is the fourth conversation today Y/N was getting tired of this. 

Two years ago, before her tragic passing, Martha Wayne attended Gotham Public Primary Schools for a fundraiser. She made a huge donation for in-school tutors and offered students in lower-class communities the opportunity to take the Gotham Academy entrance exam; if they qualified, she would pay class fees. Y/N scored so high she ended up getting a full ride. She finished out her last year at Gotham Public and recently transferred. It was a nightmare.

Y/N started getting frustrated. She was rushing to pull the books out of her locker to get out of this horrible conversation. “I don’t know if I would say we’re that close to crime alley-”

“How do you even get to school? Don’t tell me you take the bus!” He giggled until the bell rang. Then, knocked the books out of her hand as he started to run past her. Over his shoulder he shouted, “Got to get to class!”

UGH. She couldn’t even remember his name and she didn’t want to. Y/N thought going to school farther from home would be good. It would get her away from things. It would help ease her thoughts on her mother's disappearing act. Soothe her mind on her father's alcoholism. Give her a break from watching her brothers. It turned out to just be another chore. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N turned surprised. She hadn’t even noticed the tears that started to blossom in her eyes or the boy who reached down to pick up her books. He looks older than her, maybe by a couple of grades. 

“Yeah,” she sniffled and rubbed her eyes. 

He looked down at her books as he tucked them into his left arm. “It looks like you're going to 301, I have a class in 304. I can take you over there.”

“Okay,” she almost whispered it. He took her hand and guided her through the hallways. She never asked for his name, and she never knew who he was, but it didn’t matter. I don’t care to learn his name, I’m tired of having to explain mine.

[koolades-world]

Hi hi! Just wanted to start off by saying I love your work ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Anyways I was wondering if you could do some comfort hcs for an mc that has IBD? You’re fine if you don’t want to write for this since it’s pretty uncommon from my understanding.

Note: I felt it important to say since there’s lots of misconceptions floating around (cough cough TikTok-)that IBD has lots to do with diet. Either it playing a role in the cause or for treating it. Which all the specialists I’ve seen have said diet is neither the leading cause nor is it the solution. All it is that some foods irritate for no particular reason and should generally be avoided.

Sorry if I overshared lol I’ve just had people tell on multiple occasions that it’s a diet thing when it’s not- it’s an autoimmune disease.

Thanks so much for reading my little impromptu rant. Again you don’t have to write for it if don’t wish to due to it being a very niche topic. Anyways hope you’re well stay safe.

-🪴🧺

hi!!! of course I can! no worries about oversharing or anything, i actually didn't know that was a misconception and help me out :)

i'm almost certain i have ibs (long story short i couldn't get diagnosed but it runs a very clear path in my family and all of my symptoms match up exactly the same it's like it was copy and pasted) and of course so i could properly write this i did a little research, and based on what you said and what i read, it sounds like people are getting the two mixed up which is something that could be fixed by a simple google search :( i'm so sorry you have to deal with people like that

i hope i did you justice and this could be a little respite in your day. enjoy <3

Mc with IBD

Lucifer

he tries his best to make your days better in little ways!

gift baskets will randomly appear in your room filled with things you'd only mentioned in passing that you wanted or needed to him

if you're feeling up for it, he'll take you out for a meal at least once a week to make you feel special. it might not be fancy every time, but you can still feel the love

if you're not though, no worries! he'll do something equally as nice at home for you with food he made himself

Mammon

if you need surgery, he's becoming your personal nurse while you heal!

every moment he can be, he's by your side

lots of cute little forehead kisses and magically producing your favorite candies from behind his back for you

you won't even have to lift a finger to change what you're watching on tv, let mammon take care of it <3

Levi

he's the king of staying in, so if you don't feel like going out, his room is always open to you!

you don't even need a password to get in, because it's you

if you're ever feeling down or unwell because of your ibd, he always lets you have full control over what you do

if you play a game like minecraft together, he'll always have surprises ready for you so next time you play, you'll find it <3

Satan

he's curious about your medication and does extensive research into it

he always makes sure any painkillers or other meds you might take won't interfere with your ibd meds!

he will recommend the over the counter painkillers if you want them that have the least amount of bad side effects, such as tylenol because he hates to see you in pain

he's got lots of connections and will use them in any way possible if it could possible help you

Asmo

he's the best at making sure you take good care of yourself!

if you're bad about taking your meds, he'll get you a cute little pill divider

will also get a matching equally cute water bottle that you can use to help take the pills

he ensure everything can be done while being fashionable, because he finds that it makes things more bearable for him, so why not his favorite person too?

Beel

he knows quite a lot about supplements and vitamins, so if you take them, he's asking you questions about them because he just wants to get to know you better

he is always there for you if you need someone to talk to, or just want to rant/vent

provides the best comfort and warm hugs :)

Belphie

like his twin, he also gives great hugs

he's your number one fan of course! he's always with you even if you're not in your bed

it may take all of his energy, but if you want to go out, he's going with you no matter what

he'll even share his signature cow pillow with you 🥺

[cookeybg]

Gotham Possesses

A cryptid Batfamily AU in which Gotham is the main character and follows its journey to consciousness as it follows its Bat and Birds. Chapters are short and a bit gloomy.

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (more characters pop up later, will add them then.)

No romantic relationships

Stuff to know: Cryptid Batfamily, grim, Melancholic mood, Angst, (let me know if I should add more tags)

Word Count: 493

[Here's my table of contents]

Chapter 8 - Gotham Mends

I felt the tether mend. Slack, unable to grasp it, it twisted and spun. I could not see where it led. All I could feel was the direction, out over the sea, too far away. Fractile images and thoughts came as quickly as they went. Still, the tether strengthened, it’s frayed edges smoothing, beckoning. He would return and I waited in anticipation for my little bird. In the center of my decease, where suffering and hopelessness covered the ground and penetrated the air like fetid fog, he exploded. He had returned, he took up residence in his old haunt, his soul now tinted with something I couldn’t place. Something…other. It filled the cracks, glowing green, with rage and misconception. The warmth of those he deemed unworthy, flowed, their heads rolled. I drank my fill, a bitter, rancid taste. Familiar. Strong. With the tools he had been given and new ones he had been taught, he domineered. Like a tidal wave he crashed against the oppressors, he fought for the oppressed and all too soon the tide hit my Bat’s shores. They clashed, their dance beautiful, deadly, sad. Reminiscent. Denial. My Bat knew who he was, I could feel his heart stutter in realization. My birds could feel the connection. All refused to believe it. My second, now called Red Hood, a name, a twisted joke, taken from the jester. He made my third spill his warmth, jealous, betrayed, bitter, hurt. Still I helped. I directed him. He needed an outlet. I let him do what he thought he needed to. My surface his playground while I worked. After all, what were some lives worth compared to our baby bird. My Bat might not have agreed, but it was all for him in the end. I would do what must be done. I tightened the tether. With a rush I slipped in, easily, he is mine. I fired synapses, cleared the fog, helped connect the dots and threw away the lies. Chiseled into the green cracks, destroyed the ones I could. He bled, he cried, he screamed, another death endured. For the inequity of it all, I shook the foundations in agreement, cracked the sky in a mournful wail. Images resurfaced. A green eyed woman, memories, familiar, guided him in the ways my Bat would not approve, but she also gave him warmth. She cared. A child he trained with, her coloring but characteristics too similar to my Bat. It was not the time for it, I stayed away. I vowed to dig deeper when my second was less fragile. He was angry, confused, but he was back and even though my Bat was devastated by his actions. He was relieved. Happy, even, to have him back, a ghost made flesh again. Unlike his parents, his son came back. For my Bat, I helped their reunion mend their souls, though new cracks appeared. They would eventually mend. There was time. They are mine.

[movetonet]

prompt: "i'm not sure about this" + trying a new kink

requested by the lovely @hockeymarriage over in sidgeno central!! hopefully you enjoy! i chose erotic asphyxiation as the kink here so steer clear if that's not your thing. also this one's nsfw! erm...enjoy?!

"I'm not sure about this," Sidney said, frowning at Geno underneath him.

Geno rolled his eyes. It was a ridiculous visual, that coupled with his flushed face and swollen lips and hooded eyes. "It's good," he said stubbornly, "just little pressure here." He dragged his own hand up his stomach and chest, dragging his fingers across the long line of his throat before stopping at his Adam's apple. It bobbed as he swallowed. "Put hand here, press down. I come, you come. It's good."

Sidney scoffed. "It is not good, G. I don't want to—" He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't believe what Geno was asking him to do. Fucking choke him? He had no idea when Geno got the impression that Sidney got off on hurting people when he fucked. They'd only started doing this three months ago, and Geno still didn't understand what Sidney was saying thirty percent of the time, But it was a misconception he was going to clear up right now, before they went any further.

"Sid," Geno whined. He squirmed underneath him. He was still erect but not as hard as he'd been before he asked for this—which was a relief, because Sidney felt himself getting softer by the minute. "If you do, jerk me off, I come so hard."

Geno looked as if he was going to come so hard before they stopped, when Sidney was jerking him off and kissing his neck. Why did he need more? Sidney thought. Why did he want me to hurt him?

"You think too much," Geno said, which might have been true. They had just rewatched Kill Bill the other night with him, and he'd been pretty bummed to hear how the guy who played Bill died when he looked up the cast.

Wait, did that mean Geno did those things? Did he...hang himself, while he jerked off? Sidney shut his eyes again, and this time there was a heaviness behind his eyes that he knew meant he was close to crying.

"Wait no," Geno said. Sidney shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? "Sid," Geno gasped, and that was when he felt the first of his tears slip from his eyes.

"Oh, jeez," Sidney said, wiping at his face. "I'm sorry. I'm...that's really fucking embarrassing." He rolled off of Geno onto the bed beside him, shoving his face into the pillow. He was going to die of shame. He was a boring, selfish asshole who couldn't even get Geno off the right way. He needed more, needed something that Sidney couldn't give him because he was too fucking chicken.

Geno let out a sharp breath. He followed Sidney, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him to his chest. Sidney shuttered against him as Geno ran a hand up his sweaty skin.

"No embarrass," he whispered. Sidney felt Geno press a kiss to the back of his neck. "I do bad. To say."

"We should talk about it more," Sidney said after a moment. "Maybe—I want to make you feel good.

Geno kissed him again and grabbed Sidney's hands, squeezing his wrist. "You do already," he murmured into Sidney's skin.

[highladyofterrasen7]

Ok nesta and feysand and the pregnancy plot:

The whole point of the pregnancy was for it to advance nesta’s “redemption arc” (you can’t argue with me on this)

Like when nesta told feyre that nyx’s wings would kill her it was so she knew she’d gone too far and (surprise surprise) your actions and hateful words can affect people

Now this wouldn’t’ve worked if feyre knew- aka if Rhys had told her- so maas HAD to write it like this and villainise rhys for nesta to make her look better (like some sort of saviour almost) so that it would kickstart her “changing for the better” the whole thing wouldn’t’ve worked otherwise. So while I recognise rhys wasn’t completely innocent in the secret, it’s still more of a reflection on sjm

Which effectively spilt the fandom in half and- in the eyes of some- “ruined feysand”- and in the eyes of the others- made us hate the book (and sjm) bc of the wasted potential and the way those characters were portrayed

With the final scene in which feyre and Nyx die (like give them a rest) again maas HAD to write it like that to effectively “mend the bridge” between feyre and nesta, without nesta actually being held accountable for her actions (which is not cool because she said some fucked up shit)

I have a theory that Bloomsbury wanted Maas to make more books in such a successful series as a money grab (which is why it was “finished”) and in order to do that maas felt like she needed to make nesta worse so she could make nesta better (probably because she was stuck because like with the end of a series, the loose ends were tied up), but she had no clue how to actually do it (when she could’ve focused more on a relationship and actually thinking about a better plot or… written another feysand book)

Therefore she made something that should have been so joyous for the couple (and fans) into an extremely traumatising and controversial experience

Again I remain adamant that the pregnancy could’ve been an interesting plot for a novella where it actually told Rhys’ pov and what he was thinking and cleared up any misconceptions about the book (and shut up his antis instead of giving them fuel for the fire) and showed them like racing against the clock to save feyre. And have a way to save them without nesta losing her powers. Also for some action they could’ve been trying to find bryaxis.

I still find it really strange she wrote rhys like that, a character she has explicitly mentioned to be one of her favourites, so either she didn’t think about his actions when writing, or just thought we would ignore it (we’re trying)

The redemption arc didn’t even fully work because there are a lot of people who still dislike nesta

The fact is that if maas had’ve thought out the plot and the effect it would have on fans and had a different way of making nesta more likeable, the book would’ve been so much better and not been a lost cause

Feel free to add some more points