#i would go more in depth but

[locusfandomtime]

The maths fandom is wild. “Real” and “imaginary” numbers? I think you mean canon and non-canon. You guys seriously go “this is my number oc his name is i and he is the square root of -1” when in numbers canon lore it’s actually impossible to square root a negative but sure whatever. “Complex numbers”? I think you mean a character x oc ship. “f(x) = 3x - 5”? That is self-insert fanfiction.

[mohntilyet]

about illario working with the venatori, we can't forget that elgar'nan gifted him blood magic, so I do think that he somewhat influenced him and that's why he's so much more vindictive and jealous in comparison to tevinter nights. I don't mean that he's being mind controlled, but it's a bit like cyrian, a god just amplifying those negative emotions in you and promising power and glory can push a person to that edge and to make stupid af decisions.

im also not forgetting that zara line in inner demons where she talks about an envy demon. like. why an envy demon in specific...there's THINGS between zara and illario that were not shown

no literally if you get me talking about illario + envy + the possibility of getting him possessed, you will have me here for fucking ever. a non mage doing blood magic (any magic at all) is really weird and interesting to me and i don’t remember an example of this happening before (feel free to correct me tho lol. i’m discounting possessions and dwarves)

i had started wildly theorising after bloodbath that he had been possessed and he was tapping into the fade using an envy demon. especially like you said, zara mentions it, AND because i swear there’s a codex in the ossuary where it mentions an envy demon whereas spite is obviously determination, right? so i thought it was a breadcrumb trail to a big “illario is being influenced and doesn’t even know” reveal— same as you anon like great minds am i right— but i’m not sure there is actually any evidence of that lol. like maybe if you squint but i do believe it was explained away by “oh yeah, and elgarnan let him do special blood magic”

it does also make sense to me that illario can only control lucanis, due to being part of the same family. a bloodline thing, and it is very poetic to me that their shared family connection in caterina is what allows him to control lucanis, even for a moment lol. spite being the extra magical boost that lucanis needs to block that out ALSO makes sense to me so i’m not too fussed abt these details lol🤔

the envyllario in my heart also gets spectral weapons for himself. lucanis gets wings, illario gets talons, PLUS green-purple are complementary colors so it would have been really fun to see them clash with their spirit/demon-powers. the talon thing is also a kind of reflection of his end-goal desire, how envy demons already have those freaky hands, and it manifests as claws and is a much more aggressive, strength-augmenting manifestation (as opposed to manoeuvrability and speed-augmenting that spite’s wings give lucanis.) anyways that's what the diagram above is supposed to be (this is extremely hot to me)

[uninspired-choatic-angel]

One of the reasons I find jegulus intriguing is that it's james being selfish for once. In every scenario, he puts his friends and their happiness first. Especially with sirius, who he is willing to give everything, for him to be happy. Him wanting to be with Regulus put a strain on their friendship. When he chooses to be with Regulus, he chooses his happiness over Sirius's.

[vaguely-concerned]

the idea this game posits that just as much as or even more so than lucanis is having a demon problem, spite is currently having a lucanis problem. is everything to me. spite voice bitch you live like this???

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[drdt-polls]

Who is more likely to win a fist fight between Teruko and David?

[ywraa]

🪲

[bacchuschucklefuck]

official finish-this-sketch-how-you-want post idk what to call thisSAMPLE TEXT

hi! I miss drawing with people in a café and some folks mentioned they'd like to mess with my sketches themselves and that sounds cool so this is now a thing. if u play gartic phone this is basically the complement mode! but without the fucking ring noise that freaks you out right when you're getting into the flow of it

few things are 1/there's no hard deadline! take this at ur own pace if u do, but 2/I'll also be finishing this sketch and I estimate it to take around uhh 3 to 4 days? from the time this is posted. so if that's a structure u like then let's aim for something done in that timespan as well! and 3/if u finish ur piece and post it and want me to see it the best way to do that is to @ this blog! above all we go into this one determined to have fun and enjoy. I already bought u a matcha latte with oat milk sorry if u don't want that

here I got u today a sketch that's supposed to be Riz Gukgak (SY) (grey bg version and transparent version for ur ease of peruse)

remember to have fun & be urself & finish ur drink & see u in 4 or 5

[fricc-darn]

if BEN found out they liked someone, would they directly confess to them or communicate in a more poltergeist way?

They would avoid that person. Or at least try to.

Warning for physical abuse + strangulation

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

You missed them.

You missed them more than anything in the world.

It was unlike you to act in such a manner. To grovel over someone who has hurt others, including you. They had been playing with your heart for so long that your feelings confused you. You wanted to be with BEN more than anything in the world. All the suffering it brought upon others was justified in your mind. After all, you are alive and in a relatively better position than the thousands of others BEN came across.

To you, the stories of those who came before mattered little. Those people chose death. A decision only they can make, regardless of external factors. A selfish and greedy decision, yet you were no better for viewing one's life with such little regard. BEN had its reasons for acting the way it did. Even if those reasons were unbeknownst to you.

They're much more than their vicious exterior. BEN can be sweet, sometimes. Sweeter, compared to the first time you met, becoming intrigued by you. It wanted to study you. A dehumanizing experience at first, it treated you like some type of pet. Yet, an easy role to fall into after the hell it put you through. The same logic still applied, always follow their rules. Everything was on their terms. In your mind, this made sense; you were the first human BEN wanted to get close to.

But this time around, you couldn't find any rhyme or reason to BEN's recent actions. It pulled a tasteless, cruel act that made you so neurotic.

BEN disappeared for two weeks.

Two full weeks.

Your days went by at an agonizingly slow pace. Not once did BEN appear. It had eyes everywhere in your home; it had to be watching to some extent. Yet, there were no new messages or unearthly activity. Disappointment left each moment more miserable than the last. There was an undeniable ache in your heart when BEN wasn't around. An ache made worse now that you were completely alone.

Have you upset them? You couldn't recall doing anything that would cause BEN to go through such lengths to ignore you. There were no arguments, no rude comments, nothing. This couldn't be the case; you had to have done something—anything. BEN wouldn't leave without a reason. You weren't as smart as them, nor did you have the best memory. There had to be a situation you were forgetting.

All you have done today is wander throughout your house. Subconsciously circling the same rooms, clutching onto a sliver of hope that BEN might be there waiting. With each shaking step, you sank deeper into your unruly thoughts. The last times you were with BEN were nothing but enjoyable, more so than usual.

Strangely, it trotted the indecisive line between refusing to spend time with you and finding any reason to be around you. Despite the pleasant quality time,

Its tone seemed off. Not all there and spacey. A tone you had noticed for months but couldn't pinpoint a cause.

Stumbling into the kitchen, a sourness hits your nostrils. The kitchen was left in a state no better than your mind. It reeked of unwashed dishes. Leftover dough and stale desserts festered with mold.

Cookies.

The two of you made cookies after ages of trying to convince BEN to make food with you. Surprising that it even took the offer. BEN always said it was senseless; it could eat but didn't need to eat. In spite of that, you so often notice them lingering when you cook, as if they want to try. You settled on making chocolate chip cookies. An easy recipe with the flavor BEN preferred the most.

BEN explained professional baking techniques to you with such gentleness that they hardly made any snide remarks. Purely focused on the task at hand. Its soft hands rested on top of yours, helping you knead the dough. Cold hands that have killed felt so alive and warm. How badly you wanted those hands to embrace you and keep you close. To cling to your body like you are a need instead of a want. Yet BEN quickly moved away, as if the closeness of that maneuver held no significance.

You were stuck in a cycle between selfishness and reasonability. You have received no affection for what felt like forever, ever since your loved ones have been out of your life. However, to want attention from someone who is so touch-averse was a self-centered desire. In no way were you entitled to know why BEN acts like that; knowing would just make life a hell of a lot easier.

The overwhelming smell in the kitchen got increasingly nauseating. The air became stale, and you felt weak. You quickly turned on your heels, checking the living room. Your legs continued to jitter, refusing yourself the chance to sit on the couch for even a moment. You tried to rationalize your strange attraction.

A part of you knew there was no reason to be upset. BEN was awful. A terrifying piece of technology with a cruel disposition that fed off of suffering. You've been stuck with them like the old ball and chain. How would one even manage a relationship with someone who will never be satisfied?

Your half-lidded eyes scanned the room in an attempt to find something else to think about. Another useless effort. Just another messy room to wallow in. Stray pillows and blankets were on the floor by the window nook. A place where BEN simply observed whatever went on outside. Even inhuman entities loved the mundane. From frolicking animals to changing weather, it never got tired of watching it all. They're very cat-like.

Not too long ago, you two laid together in that cozy nook. BEN was always more talkative whenever they were comfortable. While it divulged its train of thought, its serene words calmed you like a lullaby. Remembering that BEN had other interests besides malice was surreal. Trivial sweet bits of information were a privilege that only you were granted. You were grateful; BEN hardly spoke about itself.

So you listened attentively. Pondering what existence was like for BEN. Since the day you met, you've pieced together bits of its circumstances. None of which sounded pleasant. It was made up of many people and had ties to a cult. Which gave you more questions than answers. What you knew for is that BEN is bitter and troubled. Excruciatingly aware of everything that has happened and what could happen.

It knew too much about you, down to the uncomfortable details that those closest to you didn't know. It is not like BEN is a stranger, but its attention to detail still didn't feel like enough. Shamefully, you wished for more. For BEN to speak of you with as much reverence as their religion. You would never be equal to their god, their precious Luna. You held as much importance as a passerby in their long lives. In desperate times, you hesitated praying to the same god just for a chance with them.

This pacing, all this thinking, and the uncertainty drained the little energy you had left. The aura in the living room is as dreadful as the kitchen. You were tired, fed up with whatever game this is. Giving up on needing your feelings validated, a nap sounded better to achieve some peace of mind. 

Heading for the stairs, you reassured yourself that none of this mattered. What you felt was a passing fling. That BEN was off pulling some crazy stunt or, more likely, had gotten bored with you. Intensifying thumping up the stairs, emotions overriding common sense. Storming to your room, the door creaked, slowly opening on its own. Stepping in with glossy eyes, a heavy groan left you. There was no relief from this ache, even in the most sacred part of your home.

The bedsheets draped onto the floor, and random water bottles littered the room. If you weren't wandering, you were here, rotting away. You could hardly see anything if it weren't for the golden afternoon sunlight peeking into the dark room. Stepping over the trash, you head over to bed. Thinking back to when BEN left without a word. The moment was a blur. A show played on the television, serving as mere background noise rather than providing anything of substance. You two sat on the floor, face to face.

From BEN's hands, it seemed... nervous? There laid a glint of hesitation in its eyes. You swore you imagined it. BEN being nervous was too unlikely, impossible even. Your face rested on the palm of its hand, letting its fingers tenderly caress your cheek. So close, the space between was diminishing, inching closer and closer.

So close.

Just like that BEN pulled away and left.

Your head pounded from remembering too much at once. You feel a chill, the hairs on your skin raised. A cool breath tickled the back of your neck, a faint snicker. "This place is a pigsty." BEN spoke in a deceiving, lighthearted tone. Its hushed voice sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the flames in your heart. You quickly turned around, greeting it with a smile and bright eyes. Swiftly you approached BEN with your arms outstretched. 

BEN took a step back. It looked down at you then looked elsewhere. Its grin twitched. They've never left you alone for such an extended period. BEN was fairly impressed with how the effects of isolation took a toll on you. It expected you to break in at least two days, not several. You always find ways to surprise them.

Unfortunately, the circumstances of this surprise were hardly fun anymore. This couldn't have been because of pity, absolutely not. Your eyes were beet red and puffy; you looked unwell. Acting in the same manner as a neglected zoo animal. "I see you missed me. Clingy, now are we?" BEN spoke sardonically, masking its true tone of voice with ease.

You stare at them blankly. Clingy? That comment shouldn't have irked you as much as it did. Emotions that you tried to keep under wraps bubbled to the surface. The response wasn't enough to sully any of your excitement about seeing BEN again. Only severing as a painful reminder that you meant nothing to BEN. "I'm not clingy." You grit your teeth; clenching your jaw worsens the throbbing headache.

"You expect me to feel nothing after you disappeared for two weeks without saying a word?" Your voice croaked, like the old wooden floorboards of your home. As hard as you tried, some bitterness seeped out. It couldn't even look at you in the eyes. That small gleam of hope for clarity slowly fizzled out. You've done nothing to cross them, and you still felt like you were stuck in an endless cycle of punishment.

BEN laughed before going completely quiet. You are full of surprises today! Going from obedient to snippy in those few days. Though it could only tolerate squeaky fussing for so long. If you could speak about anything else, their annoyance would subside. "I never said that." It took a glance around your disheveled room. Refusing to look you in the eye for long. "You should focus on more pressing matters. The trash and poor attitude won't fix itself." BEN whispered, kicking a crushed-up water bottle in your direction.

That arrogant smile you grew to love made your blood boil. A wave of heat rose in your face as involuntary tears pricked at your eyes. Balling up your hands into a fist, digging your nails into your palm. "Then stop fucking acting like nothing happened." You shouted, stomping your foot on the floor.

Frustrated, tired. You weren't as strong as you made yourself out to be. Easily falling into a pit of despair. Realizing without BEN, nobody was there for you. Friends and family gone, your dreams abandoned, every connection you had to any other person severed. If you had to be alone with someone, it had to be BEN.

"We don't owe you an explanation." BEN stated, hanging on to a thin, cordial veil. A familiar disdain ate at them. If this feeling wasn't pity, then it was not empathy; at least that's what BEN wanted to believe. Refusing to accept that your ear grating breakdown was affecting them. A breakdown caused by it leaving over something so silly, it wasn't worth admitting. Opting to dance around the fact, hoping you'll grow tired.

Patience was their virtue, a quality they have learned throughout the years. There was no point in acting violently to get you to stop. Force is primitive and too ineffective for their liking.

A loud groaning left you as your hands rubbed your face, moving up and harshly running your fingers through your hair. You weren't crazy or unreasonable and were tired of being treated as such. "I don't understand why you have to be so difficult about how you feel." Sniffling your tears, you mumbled. "Do you always lead on your victims like this?"

BEN crocks its head to the side, its smile faltering faster than the setting sun. Eyes finally locked onto you, expression still and emotionless. They've been called much worse degrading things that never phased them. However, none of those words came from your mouth. BEN didn't know why it was still trying to give you some leniency.

You didn't know your luck—how good you have it. The audacity to play the victim. You didn't know how they felt; you couldn't understand. All this yelling, shouting, and crying stirred a great discomfort in BEN. "Choose your words carefully." 

Your back straightens on its own accord. Trembling like a baby foal, unsure if it was due to the lowering temperature or fear. Wiping your tears, you spoke up. "You got bored with me; that's why you left. You don't care. I could kill myself, and you wouldn't bat an eye! It's what you want, right, BEN?" Your lips quivered, spitting your words out, acrid and firm. Oddly, being rude to BEN felt cathartic, giving them a taste of their toxicity.

"You're right. I don't care."

A painfully forced, wide-toothed grin spread across BEN's face. "You thought you were an exception? That I'd fall head over heels for you?" BEN took a step closer, stepping on top of the mess that rested on top of your floor. "If you want to die so badly, then do so. I'll gladly help." Its empty gaze, unfaltering, staring into your soul.

You, a deer staring at oncoming headlights. The satisfaction of your insult was rapidly wearing off. You had to move. You needed to move. Staggering backward, losing more balance with each footstep from the junk on the floor. "Y...You treat me like an exception. Why is it such a crime that I love you?" No longer did you speak with defiance, a mere squeak in response to its robotic voice. 

BEN glared. Love. What a burden. Love is a crippling malady, one that erodes all sense in the mind. All-consuming and maddening. They had no need for such a waste of time; spare the tooth-rotting spiel about love. How cruel of you to lecture them about love, as if they were some simple machine. Every thought had BEN stomping its way to you, your back to the wall. "You're not in love with me. You're an idiot with an attachment disorder. I did you a favor by leaving. Shame you're too stupid to see that." 

Its words dug into you. Tearing your heart into shreds, pushing more tears out of your eyes. You wanted to puke, crawl to the floor, and pitifully beg for forgiveness. A fear similar to your first encounter with BEN. Paralyzing eye contact, feeling worse each moment you looked into its flickering eyes. "If you don't care, then why did you come back? You almost kissed me last time! Just admit you have a soft spot for-"

You went down with a thud head first.

BEN loomed on top of you, gripping your throat with its hands. Erratically, you squirmed. Kicking and writhing on the floor. Desperately clawing at BEN's arms, a feeble attempt at having it stop.

"Shut up! Shut up!" BEN shouted—no screeched at you, over and over, each time hitting your head against the floor, tightening its hold on your neck.

The pressure building up in your head was far worse than any headache or migraine. You gasped, trying to breathe or say something, which resulted in a gurgle. All of your fighting wasted energy. BEN shouted its head off. You shake your head, pressing your nails deeper into its arm.

"I hate you. I hate the way you make me feel. I don't understand." BEN pressed its fingers against your soft flesh. There was no point in any of this. Victim, companion, friend, whatever label you fell under, the outcome would have been the same.

This could not be love. Love hurts and makes you irrational, like something is eating you from the inside. They had no interest in it, no desire, until your devotion to them. Always wearing your heart on your sleeve and overly selfless to your detriment. You made them feel good. The attention and closeness are everything they craved. 

You croak as more air escapes you. Your body involuntarily thrashes before your hands drop to the floor.

"You want something from me I cannot give." They would have to change to do that, and changing is an act of defeat. Another defeat over something they couldn't help. "We can't love you. Not in the way you deserve." Who on earth would willingly love an AI, Frankenstein's monster? Someone who has almost caused your death so many times. This occasion seemed more merciful than the last.

Your face slowly turns into a shade of deep purple, and your lips, blue. You feared your eyes would pop out of the socket.

"We wish we could."

That wasn't true. Whatever deluded conclusion they came up with was not true. You wanted BEN as is. Whatever definition of love they had, you wanted to experience that with them. You got what you wanted. This was the most direct BEN has ever been, and you wanted to bask in it. You'd listen to them talk till the end. Yet their voices seemed so distant; everything did. The sounds of a broken computer felt like little soft hums with ringing. Lightheaded, everything seemed slower, like minutes passed.

It couldn't have been that long, right? It stopped banging your head. The light in the room seemed to dim. Pins and needles worked up your body, your cracked lips mouthing its name. It's perfectly shaped hair, a mess covering parts of its face. BEN's eyes looked...damp? Crazed but damp. Like it was on the brink of tears but couldn't cry.

You didn't fight back. You couldn't, nor did you want to. Yes, you were scared, but you felt relaxed. A strange high, repeating yourself to at least know you were awake. You didn't want to die, but if it proved what you meant, BEN, you'd let them kill you. 

You would let BEN hurt you.

Again and again.

Until they feel better.

[official-sonic-team]

What do you think are the Sonic games or other media that best sum up Sonic as a character for you and embody him as a character?

oh that’s easy TOP THREE:

sonic 06: willingness to help people and improve their lives (kindness)

sonic & the black knight: willingness to be the villain in the eyes of everyone else as long as he believes he’s right (stubbornness)

sonic unleashed: incredible will power and handling massive world shattering (ha) adventures vs the more smaller scale ones like his storyline in 06 (will power)

[xxprincess1x]

Izzy when Ed is signing the Act of Grace document:

"Think about what you're doing, Ed. Do you really want to lick the King's boots?"

Meanwhile Izzy literally earlier that week:

Plotting with the English Navy (essentially the sea police) to get Stede killed just so he can have Ed handed over to him, in exchange for his services to the King.

I'm sorry to break it to you Iggy, but isn't that also licking the King's boots? But for an entirely selfish reason that disregards the feelings of the person you're supposedly doing it for?

[oppysbabydoll]

I'd like to request tfp ratchet x transmasc reader ^^

hey, thanks for the ask! i appreciate it. sorry for the late reply; i hope you enjoy!

tfp ratchet x transmasc reader (sfw)

once again reiterating: i don’t subscribe to the idea that the transformers follow humans conventions of gender. so hearing transmasc doesn’t equate to man confuses him. i wouldn’t even say he has a hard time seperating the two concepts than just… understanding the differences between gender

for him, our existence itself takes time getting used to. he initially has trouble even identifying one human from the other because he’s so unused to our appearances. it’s like seeing a bunch of quintisessions—you’re so off caught by how… Non Cybertronian they are, you don’t really take into account how each one is different individually. yours included </3

fortunately, he gets better! as you two met on your job as the cybertronian-human relations diplomat, he becomes accustomed to your appearance. from your small height (to him, at least), your soft eyes, your… hair (is what other beings of your species had referred to it) to the scrunched up expression you gain as you perform paperwork, your appearance is a sight for sore eyes

“you changed your look,” ratchet comments. you look up from your papers. for once, he isn’t looking at the computer, completely ignoring your existence. instead, his eyes—optics, you correct yourself—are wide, completely caught off guard. staring right at your hair.

you give a hesitant smile, ignoring the fear of judgement coursing through your body. “yeah.” you resist the urge to play with your hair; the new cut disallows you from doing so. “what do you think? do you like it?”

“it’s much shorter than your usual length.” he crosses his arms. “why?”

you bit your lips. you consider making up a reason, to give an excuse but… you clench your fists. you promised yourself you wouldn’t hide. not anymore. that was the purpose of this haircut.

“i’m trans,” you admit. “transmasc, to be specific. despite being afab—assigned female at birth, i don’t follow their standards.” a hand goes to your hair, touching a few strands. his optics follow the direction of your hands. you watch him carefully. “one standard is long hair. so i cut my hair to go against the mold.” you scratch your head. “to better fit my identity.”

there’s a contemplative silence from ratchet’s end. you ignore your desire to run. yet you cannot help but let your eyes stay glued to the floor, transfixed to a particular crack in the ground.

“my opinion on your… haircut, is irrelevant.” you meet his gaze. maybe it was the light but… the neon blue seem oddly gentle. “what matters is if this style reflects your identity.” head tilt. “does it, [name]?”

you smile; you can see pearly whites reflected in his optics. “it does.”

[detective-dick-gumshoes-pot-room]

Reasons Why Akanidai is Perfect 😌

Making my long overdo ship essay because my friend finally coerced me.

Reason 1: Character compatibility

Akane is an incredibly energetic character who lacks a lot of emotional regulation and impulse control. Nekomaru is one of the only characters who can match her energy, but he's also a manager by trade. So, he winds up being the perfect fit to work with Akane's energy. They also tend to match each other's humor.

Where they really shine is Nekomaru's ability to be the only male character whom Akane doesn't feel the need to "Sell Herself" too. Which is something she has the tendency to do thanks to trauma. Nekomaru is one of the least perverted characters I would argue, and thus doesn't really give Akane the impression he's trying to get something out of her. Because he's not, his only motivation is to help Akane out in the long run. For someone like Akane, who has never been taken care of, that's a huge deal.

Reason 2: Their Canon Relationship

Akane has a very traumatic history. Without getting too far into it, she's pretty much been abused by every man (and people in general tbh) in her life up until this point. She doesn't trust people all the way. She doesn't bother learning names half the time because she's so used to people dying around her.

[That reflects in her time spent with Hajime. She forgets his name constantly in the freetime events. And even when they're working together (chapter 2) she's on edge around the guy. Preparing herself for the worst. ]

But not with Nekomaru. The two will spar anytime Akane runs into him. She never (to my knowledge) makes the same comments towards Nekomaru that she would to thr other guys. She feels actually safe about him. And that's further supportive by the whole "It" stick between the two. While the whole scene is played up for laughs as an innuendo, it's a big deal that Akane feels comfortable enough to let Nekomaru give her massages. Especially since she has trauma around that kind of touch specifically.

Akane is also very admiring of Nekomaru. Usually, when she's referring to him in dialog, it's comments about how he's the strongest guy she's ever seen. About how he motivates her and gets her excited to spar just from walking by. Which is incredibly sweet.

Meanwhile, for Nekomaru, Akane gives him a purpose. She's an athlete on the island who needs help in more ways than one, so he immediately takes responsibility over her. Taking care of her physical well-being, helping her train and develop her talents properly (something she never really learned to do because her skills were self-taught for survival). To the point where he insists he has to be the one to reign Akane in because he knows he's the only one who's going to get her to calm down.

So naturally, the two get closer and closer. Until Nekomaru steps in and takes the rocket hit for Akane. Something he does with absolutely no hesitance.

And boy, does Akane really shine in both instances where Nekomaru "dies". During the first incident, she's in a lot of shock and denial. Akane knows how bad she messed up and feels pretty guilty over it. But despite how quick she usually is to accept death, she doesn't here. She continues to insist that Nekomaru can't be taken down by something like that. She literally can't imagine a scenario where he dies in such a way (heavy denial and admiration at play). But Nekomaru? Assuming he's about to die, the only thing he can think of is to tell Akane to live.

When Nekomaru comes back as a robot, there's this air of awkwardness between them. Akane, for maybe one of the first times, feels incredibly guilty about what happened (despite her denial). Seeing Nekomaru in a completely new body must have been quite the shock. Knowing how badly hurt he was. But she buckles down and commits to paying him back for everything he's done for her.

During Chapter 4, however, when Nekomaru dies for real, Akane cries for the first (real time) in the game. Straight up wails when she finds out. And immediately goes to revenge as her only way to deal with the pain. Pain that other characters recognize as Chiaki encourages us to give Akane a moment alone with Nekomaru to mourn properly. Not to mention Gundham going out of his way to tell her that Nekomaru accepted his challenge and fought until the end (incredibly important for her to hear).

No one is really sure how Akane will react to this news, but they all acknowledge how much it hurts her. Which is saying a lot since Akane is constantly putting up a front to prevent looking weak.

Just looking at what the game tells us about the characters, Akane and Nekomaru are extremely close. Their relationship is built on a trust that's rare for Akane to give out. Nekomaru learns her boundaries and figures out ways to keep her mind off the situation, but more than that, he's constantly dedicated to keeping Akane safe. He takes two rocket shots for her and ultimately helps free the entire group from the funhouse.

Two incredibly close characters whose development in the story is tied into each other.

Reason 3: Despair Arc

This is a shorter note, but @monokuma-apologist pointed it out to me, and it is very important I think.

In the dreaded episode two of Despair arc, when Akane and Nekomaru feel the effects of the spiked soup, instead of going nuts like the rest of their classmates,

Nekomaru is just concerned about Akane at first, and the second she tells him to not touch her- He doesn't. Man respects her boundaries, and they both just end up staring at each other quietly for the rest of the time. Very much attracted, but very respectful still. It's so nice 🙂

Conclusion

Akane and Nekomaru make the perfect pair together. Akane has been hurt. Nekomaru knows that and adapts immediately. Akane trusts and opens up with Nekomaru on a level she just doesn't with the other characters. He helps her find her footing in the world and helps pull her from her survival instincts. And Akane gives Nekomaru motivation and purpose in an awful situation. As long as Akane is around, Nekomaru works his hardest to keep everyone's spirits light and make sure people are kept safe. As long as he's doing that, Akane can feel safe too.

But just on a basic chemistry level, it's hard to beat out a pair who match each other's energy so well. They're both loud, into roughhousing, can be a little dense, but both try their best to contribute. There's no real judgment between them. Just real, genuine affection and friendship.

And let's be real, the writers totally ship it. 😚

[Footnote: Me and my friend have the personal headcanon that the reason Nekomaru let's lose and trains so hard with Akane is because of his heart condition. It's always held him back, so once he gets put into a killing game where everyday could be his last he decides "fuck it" and tears up the beach with Akane because why not have some fun?]

[ghostlypawn]

honestly think saying wicked is a ‘story about friendship’ does a disservice to the show when at its crux its a story about discrimination and corrupt governments

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 22-23 Commentary

Ha...I was inexplicably nervous for eps 22-23 and it looks like I was right to be (-: What a rollercoaster. Spoilers below!

I've just come out of ep 23 and uh????? holy shit????? ZYC????

Ok ok but to backtrack, let's do my comments semi-chronologically:

Ep 22:

A carry-over from ep 21 that I have to mention—heck yeah PSJ give WZY hell. She doesn't have all that many lines but she sure knows how to make them count. Also seeing PSJ and WX get screen time just the two of them makes my brain go "yay <3"

Back to ep 22, loved the fake-out sundial ayeee that was a nice Chekhov's gun that also brings the real sundial back into relevance for later. Also me eating up the PSJ and ZYC crumb of an interaction has brought to my attention how starved I am of their screen time together.

This whole ep was a great lament towards the feared inevitable. Every sad downcast look from ZYC, every complicated glance WX gives him. A wonderful, terrible crossroads for these characters. I love that for ZYC especially, it's such an incredible mess of emotion coming to a head. Bad enough that he's come to care about the demon who killed his family and ruined his life, bad enough that he's sworn a blood oath he regrets and tied himself to punishing someone he no longer finds culpable, bad enough that ZYZ's life or death depends solely on his choice and ZYZ is constantly practically begging for death when ZYC wants him to live. How much immensely worse it makes the whole situation that WX is literally ZYZ's soulmate. And obviously the whole team has only grown more and more attached to ZYZ, too. ZYC's personal turmoil aside, how heavy must that responsibility and guilt be? For the finishing blow that only he can deliver to also deeply threaten every other person he cares about? Everyone understands in the abstract what must happen and why, but just like seeing ZYZ lose control firsthand, the gulf between understanding and experiencing is so unimaginably wide. If he kills ZYZ, can there really be no resentment from his friends? From WX?

Also it seems ZYC only wears cloaks so that he can give them to other people lmao

Ah fuck, the farewell drinks. I didn't even factor in how ZYC might not survive the encounter (''': The drama truly was like hm can we possibly give ZYC a worse day than that night his whole fam died? Maybe give him a bunch of new family members and also the blade and the fate and the sole responsibility to potentially irrevocably scar said family members with? And he might die in the process too? (-: haha maybe? (((-:

Oh. Oh. Addendum. I forgot this til I saw it mentioned in another post—ZYC recounting his oath as he watched WX smile when they discussed reviving the tree...I could feel him weighing those words against his own life, against ZYZ's life, against WX's happiness. One way out of this impossible situation is indeed to doom himself. I'm in pieces.

Damn if WX isn't dedicated heart and soul, going into the sundial like that. I'm sad no one could keep her company for those 300 years but also I guess that's kind of an impossible ask (and maybe not survivable for the other non-goddess mortals? I'm admittedly very unclear on sundial time loophole logistics). It would have been nice to see someone offer though, even just to be turned down.

Ooh I like the soul needle fake-out, given this show's penchant for retroactive "actually we had a plan all along" moments. A good subversion of the narrative's own style.

Also I saved this for the end because it doesn't really fit the linearity of my comments but what the fuuuuuuuck oh my god I absolutely flipped out at this scene:

I am at once rabidly intrigued and at the same time not sure if I'll be satisfied with whatever payoff will come for this so I don't want to overindulge in theorizing and setting my own expectations too high. Maybe this is just a fevered hallucination, maybe it means nothing (I hope it means something). But damn!!! What a gorgeous man crazy scene.

In conclusion, ep 22 had some good stuff for me. Plot development and reflection and tension enough that I may have been satisfied with just that one episode. But they gave us two, so onward to ep 23 comments!

Ep 23:

I like how many solid reasons the team has to suspect ZYC being possessed. Even though I withheld judgment during my watch given how quickly the show usually confirms that kind of stuff with a possession mark, just simply casting that doubt made the whole build up that much more intense.

ZYC slowly walking down the corridor with the whole grounds lit a somber and haunting gold—*chef's kiss*

ZYC's monologue to a catatonic ZYZ is so important to me. The closest we'll get to his internal monologue about this whole situation. The kinds of things said when we think there's no conscious listener.

Okay so, having finished this episode and looking back, Li Lun's hands coming up from behind ZYC was not to denote possession (at least in this episode), potentially is a visual from ZYZ's POV, and seems related to the above screencap. I am so, so curious. Once again, I'm stopping myself from further speculation because I want to be surprised but ahhhhhhhhh

PSJ shooting at Ao Yin is so gorgeous. Her action scenes seriously never disappoint—the creativity of her fight choreos!! Also very cool that the whole team is getting to take part in the action, not just the two male leads.

Bai Jiu possession was not on my bingo card but I sure do love that we literally saw the possession take place and I still didn't connect the dots. Good shitttt. Also oh no ): ZYC was telling the truth about the soul needle, he was just tricked ):

Seriously from the Ao Yin case to getting PSJ released to reviving the Divine Wood to getting tricked by possessed!Bai Jiu to making pear soup to fighting ZYZ to fighting Li Lun—when will ZYC get a single goddamn vacation day holy shit.

Also when will WX tear up that contract so ZYZ can stop having a mild heart attack every time he wants to kiss her ): &I love that they saved the 300-year montage for this moment. While their ship doesn't give me brainrot personally, who could be unmoved by that incredible and undisclosed sacrifice? That's soulmatism.

Okay, I'd seen clips of them filming the ZYC and Li Lun fight but damn I did not expect it'd be happening right now!! Right after already taking damage from ZYZ? And my god is Li Lun brutal. The two actors did such an impressive job on this entire fight, what with Li Lun's ease and ZYC's suffering. I really appreciated the extensive hand-to-hand combat after Li Lun literally obliterated ZYC's sword. (Also though, given the origin of that sword, I kept hoping for a flashback to ZYC's brother once it broke, but alas, no dice.) Anyway, the show does not play around about ZYC whump it seems. I was very very shook by that throat punch; that shit legitimately looked like it hurt.

Honestly, I had a hard time with the extended ZYZ and Li Lun conversation at the very end because oh my god someone please heal ZYC lmao. But of course, that's the end of the episode~~

Y'all...check on your local ZYC stans because I was not okay after all that (': I need a heaping dose of comfort after all that hurt, but as always I'm cautious of hoping for much from canon itself. So yeah! Ep 23 was solid, but I would probably be in better shape if today's release just ended on ep 22 ((':

Time to go wait for the cast's Hi6 episode to drop so I can heal my battered heart ;-;

[bumblingbabooshka]

VOY men + Having sex with another man as a non-gay "Warrior's bond" type activity.