#it’s unhealthy but it’s also the only reason they survived

[ssreeder]

happy april friend!! hope you're well. not gonna lie i live for the drama so this chapter was sooo great ah! as soon as general how showed up..... i knew shit was gonna go down. so good, man

'for the very first time in their life, she was afraid of him' holy MOLY my jaw was dropped for like 90% of that final interaction between sokka and katara. generally speaking, if one's reaction to being caught in a lie is to double down on their stance of not lying....not great. not a good look sokka. im glad katara got out of there to clear her head and go back to aang, but now i'm worried sokka's going to lose his mind and temper even more (is it possible?!?) once left and the realization of how he's treating everyone comes crashing down on him. because he doesn't want his sister or anyone to hate him or especially be scared of him. this one may hurt :(

and zuko being so certain that iroh wasn't real was so heartbreaking....i feel like being in and out of consciousness doesn't help wounds of the mental/emotional variety because memories are all weird so it's hard to make progress. hopefully katara works her healing magic so zuko can have actual conversations for a meaningful amount of time.

very excited for the next one obviously, but this was some good food!!!!! hope your upcoming week is swell. take care of yourself!!😠do a facemask or something. buy a tasty treat. you deserve it <3

General How: first decent military figure in LIAB.

*every time he shows up chaos ensues*

Sokka is such a mess right now its like pulling pet hair off a black shirt without a magic-fix-all lint roller. So he will probably do what he always does and blame himself and sink a little lower into his depression unfortunately. He did realize his mistake the moment the word left his lips but it was too late, the damage had been done.

Katara instigated the fight, but we are talking 14 & 16 year old trauma filled siblings who are used to bickering and probably didn’t expect it to escalade to this…. Sokka wasn’t going to budge the way he would normally when katara got upset and after she pushed a little too hard he snapped.

UGH Zuko haha…. Poor guy. Don’t worry Katara is going to do her best next chapter to help him & fingers crossed!

Thanks for the ask anon you’re amazing!

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[snekdood]

the fact humans think its possible to have an entirely animalless/bugless zone is such hubris and such a dangerous thing to try to pursue in general. life would be so much easier if you learned to coexist with the nature around you instead of constantly try to shove it out, an ultimately fruitless endeavor.

[pa-pa-plasma]

kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment

[bloodstainsandconfetti]

I think it’s important that we talk about Swansea and how he’s VERY MUCH SO meant to be a foil to Jimmy.

While Swansea comes off as grouchy, abrasive, and stubborn, the biggest thing about his character is that he’s HONEST. Brutally so. Meanwhile, Jimmy basically lies through his teeth to both himself, and everyone else, from the first moment we meet his character.

Swansea comes off as stubborn, as if he doesn’t take his coworkers seriously, not because he genuinely looks down on them but because he doesn’t want them to get hurt. While he does see Daisuke as just this naive young adult, we learn in the execution scene that he doesn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing. He wants Daisuke to retain that light that he lost as grew to become grizzled and exploited.

Swansea knows he’s good at his job and so he TAKES RESPONSIBILITY by making sure HES the only one doing the dangerous work. Because he doesn’t WANT to push it onto someone else and get them hurt. Meanwhile, again, Jimmy basically manipulates Daisuke into sacrificing himself all so Jimmy can make sure Curly isn’t dead in medical. (While not even caring what Anya does to herself)

Daisuke is basically Swansea’s “Curly” if that makes sense. There are multiple lines of dialogue that hint to him saving the pod for him, to give him the best chance of survival. However, when he gets horrible injured in the vent, instead of FORCING HIM TO STAY ALIVE in tons of pain (like Jimmy did w/ Curly throughout the whole game) he ends his life BECAUSE he cares about how Daisuke feels and not just how HE feels. Cause we all know Jimmy keeps Curly alive for very selfish reasons.

After everything, Swansea is extremely honest about who he is. The type of person he was and is and could’ve been. The mistakes he’s made, the things he actually cares about, even if they’re flawed or unhealthy. Meanwhile, even then, Jimmy continues to deny what he is and what is intentions are and what he really wants. He CONTINUES to refuse to take any sort of responsibility even when Swansea says to his face that he already sees past it.

Swansea is basically the narrative opposite of Jimmy, while also, funnily enough, kinda being used as a red herring at first. I mean, he’s the fat angry alcoholic old guy who carries an axe everywhere so ofc you’d expect him to be the bad guy. The story even shows you him trying to kill Jimmy/the player without context, to further sort of bait ur expectations. When in reality, he’s the one who saw Jimmy for what he really was before anyone else really did.

[demilypyro]

Ok so as someone who knows very little about sonic characters that aren't the main cast. Can you explain to me who Surge is? (I am asking you to infodump. I understand I could just check the wiki but then you wouldn't get to talk about a character you like)

Alright you asked for it. Long post attack.

So Eggman had this protege named Doctor Starline, who had a falling out with his mentor and hatched a plan to kill Sonic and replace him with a new hero, one who would take Sonic's place in the eyes of the people but be under his control.

So he kidnapped a random girl off the street (no name or history known at this point), filled her with a bunch of cybernetics to give her superpowers, and slowly brainwashed and trained her into becoming essentially Sonic's equivalent of Wario.

This was Surge the Tenrec.

As Sonic's so-called "imposter," Surge is like an exaggerated version of Sonic. She has his heroic heart, but also his temper, his pride, his irresponsibility, his rudeness, all turned up to 11. She's got the standard super speed, as well as electrokinesis - lightning powers. She's accompanied by Kitsunami, or just Kit, a blue fennec with water powers and a similar background, but who was based on Tails instead.

As part of their brainwashing, Surge was conditioned to hate Sonic. As Surge's backup, Kit was conditioned to want to support Surge in any way he can.

Surge and Kit eventually found out what had happened to them, how Starline had kidnapped and brainwashed them, and were planning to betray him. Before they could, however, Starline was killed, after being thoroughly trounced by Eggman, leaving Surge and Kit free to do whatever they want.

When Surge finally encountered Sonic, she blamed him for what had happened to her. She holds him responsible for always letting Eggman survive to come back another day, leading to ever-escalating conflict. While before she had no real reason to hate him beyond her brainwashing, all that baseless animosity now had a foundation, and she's wanted to take him down since. Surge and Kit have had several fights with Sonic and Tails already, and while they were defeated each time, it's clear they pose a real threat.

Left with only each other, and having no real goals beyond taking down Sonic and Tails, and no hints to their past, Surge and Kit became a neutral force of chaos, not affiliated with either Sonic or Eggman. While Surge has the desire to be a hero, she can't let go of her grudge toward Sonic, and Kit's obsession with helping Surge regularly shows itself to be unhealthy, which may lead to a falling out between them in the future.

Since their first appearance in the Impostor Syndrome mini-series, they've made regular appearances in the main comic starting with issue #50. They've been making waves, establishing new rivalries and inciting new conflicts. Sonic wants to believe there's good in Surge, but she's a tough nut for him to crack.

Surge is one of the series' best original characters. Surge is cool, has an interesting origin, and she contrasts Sonic in a way that gives ample opportunities for new stories. She's got a good heart, but she's carrying around a ton of trauma and animosity she doesn't know what to do with. She's scrappy, resourceful, and more introspective than you might expect. And by often being positioned as the underdog, she's very easy to root for.

I was always a bit uninterested in the Sonic series at large, but Surge really got me on board. She really made me a fan.

She's my favorite Sonic character.

If you're interested, look into the Imposter Syndrome mini-series, which leads right into Sonic IDW issue #50, or you can just read Sonic IDW from the start.

Okay bye

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

Written before the English release!

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Jp-version spoiler(!!!), death, description of war, unhealthy mindset, religion, obsessive themes, unhealthy family dynamics

General! Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Maleanor Draconia/(Platonic) Knight of Dawn-Yandere headcanons

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce? Lilia Vanrouge 1.0. The more cold, hard and ready to behead the next human version of the usual Lilia (also known as the Lilia Vanrouge 2.0 model)

Lilia back then was “rough” and I am being nice calling him that

Back then, Lilia was surrounded by loss and a lot of Faes getting everything they ever owned ripped away from them

Of course this impacts him (I mean he is strolling through battlefield after battlefield so of course it does)

Lilia wasn't always such a devoted follower

Yes, he did believe in the Overseer, aka you, but only after witnessing the brutality that came with him being a general did he turn into a follower with such drastic views

After all, if there was no higher meaning to all this violence, to all this loss and despair, what was even the point of it all?

You became his moral, mental and also a bit of a physical crutch for him

Whenever he felt like he was this close to just giving up, he thought about you and that this was part of your greater plan (totally not part of some valley church propaganda)

After witnessing that human hiding behind the Knight of Dawn in all his haughtiness and cruelty, he finally set out on his quest not only to make the humans leave his beloved home but also to make them into loyal believers of the Overseer

But sadly, everything was for nought and Lilia had to go into hiding

The only thing keeping him going was his believe in you having a greater plan

A few hundred years later and Lilia finally found out what that supposed plan of yours was

Laying in that cold, lonely crib was the child of his old, now deceased enemy

Taking the child, now called Silver, in he learned the joy of a family, the boy giving him more joy than anything ever before in his life

Finally, he had found peace. Of course he did. This was your plan all along, right? You must have ordered those three fairies to make his beloved son survive until now, right?

You were, after all, a kind deity. There was no way this was all just a war happening because of greed. Because if this truly was just events happening after events then...

Lilia never finished that thought

The great ruler of the night fae, mighty and powerful sorceress who could fell an entire nation in one swoop if she wanted to was despite her cruel and aloof outside appearance a pretty devoted follower since the beginning

Despite being a Fae, she was feared just like her unborn son due to her powers (and being more or less being on the same level as a nuclear bomb but hey, I doubt that anyone of us would stand next to one of those, right?)

So it is no surprise that she turned to something, someone, to feel less alone

Especially after her husband disappeared did she wish for some sort of sign that she was not alone

And oh boy, did religious propaganda from the high church take that loneliness away

When her beloved son, although in an egg, was born, she visited your altar daily, thanking you for her child being healthy

(This could also be the reason why Malleus is the way he is but I am just a writer and not some all-knowing God so idk, just a theory)

She definitely has "taken care" *cough*totallynotproblematicforarulertobeinfluencedbyreligion*cough* of Fae that were non-believers

How dare their sinful ways dirty your holy image?

See? Totally not problematic

At first she only tried to protect her subjects after the humans attacked and took over parts of her kingdom

But after a while she started to have another goal

What if she shared your splendor with those little useless invaders?

Humans were most definitely vile but you were able to unite so many different kinds of Fae in your name under the Draconia name

So why not also unite those humans in your name in a peace treaty?

Such a kind God you were! Allowing for peace in your name!

And, well, if violence and destruction was needed to make those beings understand and surrender, then that shall be what they get

Besides, she was only honoring her husbands wish to get closer to the humans so who was she to selfishly aim for another goal?

The Knight of Dawn (long name, I know) did not always believe in you

Heck, the poor guy probably never heard of you until he fought the Fae

But if the humans from back then didn't really know about you, then how did he find out about and why did he start to see you as his God?

On this part, I would say, he and Lilia were eerily similair

Both were pushed into a war neither liked, so of course he was also in a very unstable situation which made him, like Lilia, search for something to hold on to

The three Fairies had mentioned before when he was still training to become as strong as he was now, mentioning a kind deity who accepted all, who loved unconditionally

Back then he only thought of you as one of the many deities that were prayed to back then

But once the war started and he saw your churches and cathedrals for the first time, his opinion slowly started to shift until he saw you as the highest being possible

I mean, all of us would if we lost all stability over night, having only destroyed buildings and a half-standing church in front of us

He hated the plundering of your sacred placed even before he became a believer, having the opinion that it was just a cultural difference between the two kinds

This led to him kneeling at the cracked altars of many of your churches, asking for forgiveness, hoping that you would understand that he didn't have another choice

What he would do to witness one of your sermons…

And when he was lonely enough, he imagined you watching down on him from up above

Just like a... a parent

You see where I am going with this?

So when he was facing the Queen he only hoped for your forgiveness, hoping that his loving family member would forgive his gravest sin, him killing a mother

And he found salvation, in letting that child and the retainer escape

Perhaps you could forgive him now

[secretmellowblog]

Another reason I dislike Les Mis adaptations that make Jean Valjean constantly openly angry/violent is because they miss that Jean Valjean is not allowed to be angry. The fact he is forbidden from expressing anger is, I argue, actually a very important part of his character in the novel!

One of the subtler political messages of the story is that some people are given freedom to express anger, while others are forced to be excessively meek and conciliatory in order to survive.

Wealthy conservatives like Monsieur Gillenormand can “fly into rages” every five minutes and have it treated as an endearing quirk. Poor characters like Fantine or Jean Valjean must be constantly polite and ingratiating to “their superiors” at all times, even in the face of mockery and violence, or else they will be subjected to punishment. If Gillenormand beats his child with a stick, it’s a silly quirk; if Fantine beats a man harassing her, she is sentenced to months in prison.

(Thenardier and Javert are interesting examples of this too. Thenardier acts superficially polite and ingratiating to his wealthy “superiors” while insulting them behind their backs. Javert, meanwhile, is completely earnest in his mindless bootlicking. But I could write an entire other post on this.)

The point is that….Jean Valjean has to be submissive and self-effacing, or he puts himself in danger. He can’t afford to be angry and make scenes, or he will be punished. The only barrier between himself and prison is his ability to be so “courteous” that no one bothers to pry into his past.

Jean Valjean is excessively polite to people, in the way that you’re excessively polite to an armed cop who pulls you over for speeding when you secretly have a few illegal grams of marijuana in the your car trunk. XD It’s politeness built on fear, is what I mean. It’s politeness built on a desperation to make a powerful person avoid looking too closely at you.

It’s politeness at gunpoint.

Jean Valjean has also spent nineteen years living in an environment where any expression of anger could be punished with severe violence. That trauma is reflected in the overly cautious reserved way he often speaks with people (even people who are kind and would never actually hurt him.)

So adaptations that have Jean Valjean boldly having shouting matches with people in public and beating cops half to death without worrying about the repercussions just make go like “???”

Because that’s part of what’s fascinating about Jean Valjean to me? On one hand, he is a genuinely kind compassionate person, who cares deeply about other people and behaves kindly out of altruism. But on the other hand, he was also “beaten into submission” by prison, and forced into adopting conciliatory bootlicking behaviors in order to survive. And it can sometimes be hard to tell when he is being kind vs. when he is being “polite” — when he is speaking and acting out of earnest compassion vs. when he is speaking and acting out of fear.

The TL;DR is that I think it’s important that even though Jean Valjean is very (justifiably) angry about the injustice that was inflicted on him, his anger is harshly policed at all times— by other people, and by himself. He has been told his anger is wrong/selfish so often that he believes it. His anger takes weirder more unhealthy forms because he has no safe outlet for it. His rage at society becomes a possessiveness towards Cosette and silent hatred of Marius, but primarily it becomes useless self-destructive constant hatred of himself. And while I might be phrasing this wrong, I think that’s what’s interesting about Jean Valjean’s relationship with anger— the way his justified fury at his own mistreatment gets warped into more and more unhealthy forms by the way he’s forced to constantly repress it.

[deckedcards]

. . . I WANT YOUR EVERYTHING, EVERY SINGLE PART OF YOU

⌗ PAIRING: yandere! suguru niragi x male! reader, yandere! ryōhei arisu x reader x yandere! yuzuha usagi

⌗ SUMMARY: ever since (name) had been sent to this world of murder games, he thought that nothing could get worse upon from where he was now. that is until he catches the attention of a certain rifle handling psychopath. but rest assured, arisu and usagi won’t let the militant touch what’s theirs.

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, kind’ve dark content, typical aib warnings, typical niragi warnings, typical yandere warnings, third person pov, weapons described, cursing, niragi being worse than he already is, obsessed niragi, unhealthy love, “love” at first sight, possessive niragi, one-sided obsession, suggestive content (not full-on smut tho), reader only has eyes for arisu and usagi, implied poly relationship, bisexual! reader, threatening, suicidal thoughts, mentions of niragi’s backstory, assault, drugging, reader being too “pure” for the borderlands, reader gets hurt a lot, mentions of episode 3, scars, the militants, torture, niragi seeing himself in reader, reader wears glasses, stalking??, PTSD, niragi just being really creepy altogether, niragi calls reader “rabbit,” reader just wants to go home, also slight episode 6 rewrite, fixed grammar and wording mistakes ❨ edited ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: this was originally supposed to be JUST a niragi fic, but then i started thinking about arisu and so i added him in, BUT THEN i started thinking about usagi once i started writing for his part so now there’s this. enjoy!! (niragi gif, arisu x usagi gif)

⸺ THIS WORLD WAS ROTTEN, that’s all (name) knew when he was sent to this verison of shibuya. a version where he had to fight for his life in games that he never thought he’d be able to survive. he missed his family. he missed the warm comfort of his bed, the cold wind that brushed against his window at night, the excitement he always felt as he met up with his friends to hang around amusement parks that opened around the city.

why, why him? had he done something wrong in his past life to be cursed into this hell? he didn’t know what to do during his time here, he was alone throughout all this. he had survived, what—three—four? games by now. eight of spades, three of diamonds, six of clubs, and two of spades. he didn’t want to do this anymore, he didn’t wanna kill innocent people just to keep himself safe. either way, it’s not like he was given a choice. with the effects of the visa lingering over him, he had too. he was afraid of letting the days run out just to get shot down by a laser that came from god knows where.

he didn’t know the importance of the cards, he just stuck them in his pockets after he finished a game and off he went to his abanded apartment building to rest for the remainder of the day. that is … until he found the beach. he doesn’t know how he found it in the first place, but not a day goes by where he doesn’t regret it. why you may ask? it’s simple, really.

it was all because of suguru niragi.

ever since (name) joined the beach, niragi has been anything but kind to him. yes, niragi was already a complete asshole to people at the beach anyways, but for some reason (name) was his number one target. constantly degrading him, beating him till he was bruised to the pulp, even making some of the militants hold back his limbs as he dragged his (loaded) rifle across his abdomen and chest telling him how “he could pull the trigger at any moment if he wanted to”; this always stroke fear into (name)’s core. even stealing the chipped glasses off his face making his shitty vision betray him, this gave niragi a bigger advantage to the torture he indured as this made the man more helpless than he already was.

(name) was weak, fragile even and easily scared, he wouldn’t deny that, the borderlands practically ruined him. he knew that niragi could actually kill him at the slight pull of his trigger. it didn’t help that niragi was a stubborn and narcissistic man that wasn’t afraid of getting blood on his hands if it meant having more fun, the total opposite of what (name) was. he always attempted to avoid him throughout the building but alas, he always failed. especially since the militants were everywhere, always notifying him of his location or when he got back from a game. he was like a bug that always showed up around the house no matter how many times he tried squishing it. the beach was supposed to be a place where players could have fun, not stressing about the games that existed outside of it.

live your lives to the fullest was the message hatter had given everyone, but how could he do that when this maniac lingered at every corner he turned? he couldn’t relax if he wanted too, always on edge as stress ate up his body worrying about both the games and the pierced devil with an ego too big for his body. (name) prayed every night that niragi would just disappear one day, maybe even failing at a game for being too careless or reckless at it. however, no matter how many times he did so, he would always succeed. coming back even more pyschotic than the day prior and he’d have to deal with his wounds getting reopened again as the days went by.

niragi hated how much (name) reminded him of how he used to be. innocent, weak, helpless, lonely, always letting his bullies get the upper hand all because he didn’t know how to defend himself. he wanted to kill him. kill the person that reminded him of all those horrible memories. but he didn’t, no matter how many times he thought of doing so, he didn’t. he was too infatuated with him.

ever since he first caught sight of (name), he was obsessed with him, how pure he was. all the brightness he had in his eyes, the spark inside them having yet to go out considering the predicament he was put in. how everytime he caught sight of niragi, his eyes widened and his body began to shake. all the tears and whimpers that left him as he dragged a knife against his skin, threatening to cut it open and leave him to bleed out. his poor little rabbit. being forced to succumb to the rules of the borderlands, he just wanted to tie him up and leave him in a closet where only he could find him. where he’d have to be forced to rely on niragi to live. he was perfect.

of course, that wasn’t possible. he didn’t want (name)’s visa days to run out and have to come back to his lifeless body bleeding out on the floor because of that stupid laser. so he let him roam free. if you would call tormenting “roaming free.” but again, it was all he could do. he didn’t have to worry about the beach residents foiling his plan since they already knew that (name) was off limits. ever since one of them walked in on his fun time, as he liked to call it.

(name)’s whimpers were muffled as the fabric that kept him quiet tugged against the corners of his mouth. his hands jerked at the restraints that trapped them against the frame of the bed, his feet were mirrored the same way. all he did was let out tears at his situation. niragi had captured him again, after he thought he’d been so successful in avoiding him. he hadn’t seen him or the militants all day, he was ecstatic in thinking he could have a peaceful day finally, one where he could relax just like hatter promised.

oh how naive the poor thing was, did he forget where he was stuck at? he strolled around the hallways of the building, playing around at the umbrella straw that was soaked inside his drink. he was finally able to visit the club that most of the citizens hung around in, a huge bright smile was plastered on his face. this was the first time he felt ever content in this place in months or however long he’s spent here (dates or calendars weren’t very accurate especially since the internet didn’t work anymore and nobody’s been keeping track of the days) it was too good to be true, but like always, his happiness was cut short. as soon as he turned the corner to head to his room he felt someones hand press a wet cloth against his nose, the smell of it was nauseous, his drink dropped to the floor staining the carpet beneath it. “shh…” was all he heard before he blacked out.

his vision was groggy as he woke up, blinking his eyes at an attempt to take in his surroundings. the room he was in was dark but dimly light by the bedside light, window curtains blocking off the outside, and wooden door closed off. attempting to sit up, he struggled, finally feeling his limbs glued to the bed he was in. realization had finally set in as he cried, obviously nothing came out and nobody would hear him anyways, so why would he even try?

“i missed you today.”

like a sixth sense, the door opened as a figure walked in, niragi. a shit-eating grin painted his face as he watched (name) struggle against the hold of the ropes, muffled screams left him as he walked over to his side settling down his rifle. niragi grabbed ahold of his face, squishing his cheeks together as he mocked a pout, “i have to give it to you, you hid yourself pretty well. i was starting to think you fell down the rabbit hole.” he spat rolling (name)’s head to the side. niragi opened the bedside table as he grabbed a small pocket knife that was hidden inside it.

he cocked the knife, revealing the sharp metal point. (name) was breathing heavily as niragi crawled ontop of him trailing the knife across from his collarbones down to the middle of his shirt. sticking out his tongue as slick stuck to the metal ball in the middle of it, lapping at his face as (name) cringed at the warm feeling of niragi’s spit mixed with the heat that filled his face. “you know better than to fuck with me..” niragi snarled, “it’s almost like you want me to kill you?” his fist collided with (name)’s face as he squirmed, dark eyes peered over him as nirgai bit his lip at the sight. the pervert was getting aroused at this.

he was too intoxicated at his movements, all of his undivided attention was focused on the screams that left (name)’s mouth as he deepened the knife into his thigh drawing blood. the door handled jiggled as it opened, a girl with long hair and bangs stood in the doorway, color left her face as she saw the scene infront of her. niragi snapped his head, sending a glare her way, “s-sorry…i-i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t see anything i promise!” she stammered closing her eyes shut and bowing her head as she left, slamming the door shut.

niragi clicked his tongue turning his head back as he smiled at the man under him, lightly bending his torso over to whisper in his ear, “there goes your savior.”

(name) was losing hope. all the pain he’s felt was bringing him to the edge, he wanted to end it all. nobody was going to save him, no one at the beach even gave him at a glance at all the agony he’s gone through. who was he going to tell all of this too? hatter, the drunkend sex obsessed lunatic? aguni, niragi’s own boss? fuck, no. they wouldn’t give two shits about how he was feeling. he needed someone more special, his own white knight or maybe even an angel, perhaps.

an angel like… ryōhei arisu.

arisu wasn’t like everyone else at the beach. he was smart, kind, caring, good-hearted, empathetic, handsome, he was the type of person who would risk his life if it meant protecting others. he was everything (name) needed. he never expressed any desires in hurting him, always protecting the other whenever they were paired up in a game together. with all of these sessions a friendship had started to build up with the two.

he was comfortable in expressing all his desires of wanting to go back to his old life, the yearning he had to see his friends and family again, even telling about him all the things niragi had done to him before he came. arisu listened to everything, never interrupting him or cutting him off, always giving him a hug or letting him cry into his shoulder as his hatred for niragi grew even more.

arisu had even opened up to him about losing his friends in a seven of hearts game. how they sacrificed themselves just so he could live on, a promise he intended to keep for as long as he was alive. (name) felt safe around him, always hanging around arisu and usagi as they gladly accepted him into their team.

arisu was his angel, while yuzuha usagi was his white knight.

usagi was just like arisu. kind, smart, beautiful, good-hearted, and protective, but unlike arisu, she was stronger. stronger than both of them, both physically and mentally. the type of person who worked independently, unless she was with someone she cared about and knew well. despite how she presented herself, she was still sensitive and emotional on the inside, especially with the grief she had of losing her father. she’d built up walls that she had never thought she’d be able to take down for anyone that wasn’t arisu. anyone that wasn’t (name).

ever since she found out what happened to him, she felt remorse for him. nobody should have to deal with all the misery he went through, nobody.

one day, during a game, she had teamed up with him. it was a spades game, something she was good at. during one of the rounds, (name) was attacked by another player while he was off guard, he tried to fight back but his strength wasn’t the best as his attacker easily overpowered him. usagi came out of nowhere, knocking the other player off of him as she delivered a blow to their face, over and over again. anger was all she felt at this person trying to to get rid of one of the only people she cared about. she didn’t care if this person was just trying to play the game and had the desire to survive like her. no, she wasn’t gonna let anybody take (name) from her.

lifting her bloody knuckles from the blow she gave, she stood up picking up (name)’s glasses that were knocked off him to return. that’s when she saw it. his shirt was ridden up as his chest heaved, eyes closed with messy hair and sweat wetting his skin. her face felt hot as she looked away, shaking her head to get rid of all the erotic thoughts that filled her subconscious. but what really caught her eyes were the pigmented lines that reached from his torso all the way to his waistband and dipped even lower than that.

his body was littered with all the affliction that she knew was forced onto him. her ears started ringing as all possible images of what could’ve happened to him flood to her. god, did she just wanna kill niragi.

“usagi… is that you?”

the calling of her name took her out of it, rushing to (name)’s side. “yeah it’s me.” she replied setting his glasses back onto his face, brushing a strand of hair away, “don’t worry, you’re safe now.” she cradled his face in her hands as they smiled at each other, (name) thanking her profusely before they went on to finish the rest of the game, not caring about the bloody corpse that was left behind.

yeah, safe.

the two made a deal between themselves, protect (name) no matter the cost. when (name) told them the thoughts he had conjured up of wanting to let go of himself, all arisu saw was him the day after the wolf and three lambs game.

lying on the street, filthy, dried blood and tears staining him. graphic memories of karube��s head exploding as his body flumped to the floor, his lit up cigarette rolling to arisu’s feet as he cried out into the air. nothing but his weeping could be heard throughout the building. he was begging for death, he wanted to be with karube and chōta again. not caring if he would be breaking the promise they had given him, he missed his brothers.

he doesn’t think he would still be here if usagi hadn’t saved him. but man, is he grateful she did. cause if she didn’t, he doesn’t think he’d have the gratitude of being with her or meeting (name). he made a promise that he’d never let anyone feel the same way he did after that. he definitely wouldn’t let (name) feel that way.

“you have us now,” arisu reassured him. the three were in (name)’s suite, he was sat on one of the twin beds as arisu and usagi were on the one across from him. tears streamed down (name)’s face as he turned his head up. the duo were looking at him with nothing but love in their eyes.

usagi nodded her head at this, standing up to move beside him, resting her hands on his shoulders, “i promise you’ll be safe as long as we stick together.” she said softly wiping the tears from his cheeks. arisu grabbed his right hand clasping it between both of his, “we’ll protect you and we’ll bring you back with us to the real world.”

(name) furrowed his brows, ripping his hand back (much to arisu’s dismay) as he looked between the both of them, “but hatter said only one person can go back to the real world? someone who has all the cards, and only he can have all of them, so how would you—“

“hatter is dead,” arisu responded coldly with no hint of hesitation in his voice. (name)’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes expanding, cranking his head to look at usagi. begging this to just be a joke. a joke where she would laugh the moment he looked at her. hatter was strong, reckless, but strong. surely one simple game couldn’t have ended it all for him, right? his eyes met hers as she nodded, her face was stoic, no sense of humor to be found on it. no. “he failed at one of his games. the game where everybody was celebrating his help to retrieve one of the playing cards,” she says rubbing her thumb against his cheek to soothe his nerves.

his pupils darted around the room at the conformation, stopping to connect with arisu’s, “so.. who runs the beach now?”

“we haven’t decided yet.” he replies, “me and the rest of the executives are gonna have a meeting about it tomorrow afternoon. my guess is kuzuryu. i mean, it’d make sense, he is second in line.”

nodding his head (name) spoke up again, “and the cards? how do you expect to get those?”

“chishiya.”

a laugh escaped him, “chishiya? the only person who works with him is kuina, how’d you get him to become your ally?”

“it’s a long story, really. it’s best we don’t get into it right now,” arisu responded, “he told me he has a plan for after the new beach leader gets chosen. and we were hoping you’d help us with it.”

(name) shook his head at the offer, this entire thing seemed sketchy. chishiya wasn’t the type of person who would just so easily let someone help with one of his schemes and hatter’s death, how would the new leader explain that to the citizens? there was definitely something going on that they didn’t know about.

“hey, listen,” arisu steered his attention away from his thoughts, “just like usagi said, you’ll be safe with us. if you’re worried about anything bad happening during tomorrow then you can just stay in my room. everybody will be busy in the lobby anyways—“

“no.”

usagi raised her brows at this, “no?” she repeated. “i wanna help.” (name) said grabbing arisu’s hands just like he had done to him a few seconds ago, “i don’t care anymore. i wanna go home. i wanna go back and maybe even have a life with the two of you.”

the duo smiled at the last sentence, having a life with him sounded nice. just the three of them, together. “yeah..” arisu whispered, if he was a cartoon character he would definitely have giant heart shaped eyes just by (name)’s actions, “okay, yeah! that sounds great, yeah!” he rapidly collected himself straightening his posture as he stood up, “well, it’s uh.. getting pretty late, i think we should all head to bed now. c’mon usagi, let’s go!”

usagi stiffled a smile at his awkwardness. he never really was good at being a romantic, “sweet dreams.” usagi said giving (name)’s shoulders one last rub before getting up and following arisu out of the room. (name) watched as they left, his stomach started to churn as he internally slapped himself, already regretting what he had just said to them.

what had he gotten himself into?

a/n: i was gonna write a lot more but i didn’t want the fic to end up being too long so i ended it right there. i have a lot of ideas that i wanna do with this, so i might expand on the story a little more. maybe or maybe not, we’ll see.

© @deckedcards 2025 all rights reserved ☆ please do not repost, translate, copy or share my work on other platforms without my permission, thank you.

[inbarfink]

I have… so many little thoughts about Simon’s shift in the climax of ‘Prismo the Wishmaster’. He’s so ready to give up, to resign to Death By Interdimensional Beetle Cop. And the thing that pulls him out of it, gets him to see a purpose in his life again, is seeing Fionna cry.

And this moment is so important for Fionna and Cake because this is their first moment to really process the Implications and Consequences of their magical adventure. You know, it’s not just a dream you can wake up from - this is actually a matter of life and death and the fate of their entire world.

And it’s actually, also kinda the same from Simon’s perspective? Even if he was already told they are real and have been real all along a while ago - I think seeing Fionna break out in tears is really the moment where he processed her not as a manifestation of Ice King’s madness, not as yet another way the universe is kicking him when he’s down, not as a cruel joke at his expense. But really actually as people, who need his help.

And, I think about this, also in context with this moment?

Simon Petrikov is… a dad at heart. Simon’s first focus episode in F&C starts with a prologue of him and Marceline surviving in the wasteland. Showing that despite being under much more miserable circumstances

he still seemed to hold himself together far better than present-day Simon. 

Because the need to protect Marcy and keep her happy was giving him purpose and a motivation to hold himself together. 

And this desire to help and nurture and protect is clearly still deep within him. It’s just that now he feels incapable for doing so. In both body-

And spirit -

But now, suddenly, he is once again the Only Person Who Can Help this younger person in distress.

And I think that is a huge part of his motivation to keep on going right now. I mean, just look at how quickly he goes from dismissing Fionna and Cake - into basically declaring that he has to protect them. And fully willing to sacrifice his own identity and sanity to bring magic back to their world because he knows it’ll make Fionna and Cake happy. Because the moment he saw Fionna tear up, he basically decided to Adopt her.

And that’s, you know, technically a step forward - but it is a very very imperfect step. 

Like, at the very least he’s not drinking his sorrows away while waiting for death out of pure despair and spite. At least he has a sense of purpose and a reason to open up for others again and bond. And we’ve seen how much this has been a great coping mechanism for pulling himself together through difficult times.

My guess is that after two episodes of only seeing Simon Petrikov at his lowest and very worst - Fionna and Cake are finally going to get an understanding of Simon’s actual positive qualities as his dad-instincts are going to bring them up to the surface again. 

Buuuuuuuut….

You know, tying your sense of self-worth and motivation entirely to how well you can Dad is not particularly healthy in the long run either. And it’s going to cause problems both for Simon and for F&C.

Looking at it from what's best of Simon, for the sake of protecting Fionna and Cake and making them happy by bringing magic and wonder back into their world - Simon is willing to throw himself right into the suffering and trauma that he’s been fearing all this time and has been trying so hard to get away from. I mean, it’s also about how Simon has started to miss being Ice King in a weird twisted way and how he resigned himself to being miserable in general. It’s also about that, but the part that he actually says out loud is that he’s doing this to protect Fionna and Cake.

So that’s, you know, still very Not Good. Simon can’t hang his entire ability to properly function on there being Younger People who need his protection. He can't actually move forwards by trying to relive the Better Times of the Horrible Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland. That's not a sustainable coping mechanism. And it’s an incredibly unhealthy amount of self-sacrifice. 

And on Fionna’s side… she never said she wanted Simon to protect her.

She might want a useful teammate or a helping hand, she might need a friend. But I don’t think she needs a Dad. Simon is surely old enough to be her father (even just counting his age biologically and not the fact he’s 1058 years old) but Fionna’s not a Literal Child like Marcy was. Fionna Campbell is a grown-ass woman in her early 30’s (Finn is 29 years old right now and there was always kinda the implication that Fionna was a bit older than him). 

(And, heck, if she IS the daughter of a gender-flipped Minerva Campbell, she is probably not in the market for a new overprotective dad. She’s fully booked out on that.)

AND while Fionna does not possess full memories of her magical-adventuring-self, she clearly retains some of her fighting and athletic abilities.

Meanwhile Cake is clearly an adult in cat years and is just as much of an insanely powerful shapeshifter as Jake was.

So where does this middle-aged scrawny nerd get off, acting like it’s his job to sacrifice his mind in order to protect them?

And Fionna very much wants to be the hero, she wants to be at the center of the action. It is no coincidence that her own idealized version of Ice King/Simon is a Tuxedo Mask.

Someone who can give her a helping hand and words of encouragement when things get rough - 

But still lets her be the main hero of the story.

And you know, right now Fionna and Cake have not fully processed the implications of Simon choosing to become Ice King… but once they see a bit of who Simon really is at his better moments. Yeah, they’re probably gonna have some objections to the idea that he should throw his entire identity away just for their own sake. 

Back when Simon allowed the Crown to slowly consume him so he could protect Marcy, it felt like a noble sacrifice. It really seemed like he had no other options. But now he has the entire multiverse on his disposal and two serious badasses on his side. Simon has to learn to see the difference between a codependent senseless self-sacrifice and something that will actually help Fionna and Cake.

So if Simon is really going to lean too hard on his Dad aspect, it’s actually going to cause some really big problems down the line. For his own mental well-being, and for Fionna and Cake. It is in a way, a step in the right direction. And I think it’s going to lead to our main trio finally becoming closer and understanding each other - but unless Simon learns to temper himself, it’s going to cause some serious interpersonal conflicts.

At least this is my thoughts about these interactions right now. I know they’ve been really short but I think they’re really full of Meaning and Emotions. But really, we’ll just have to wait and see.

[lay-z]

I'm sad for some reason I think I'm getting close to getting my period, so... I'm yearning for a fictional man and I'm hurting, because I can't have him 🥺❤️‍🩹 Also, I'd like to explore some slow burn type of romance and keep Simon's past traumas in mind! Pairing: civvie!F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Reader is demisexual; cussing; tw: mental issues; insecurities; slow burn; awkwardness; humor Word count: 3.5k The one where two broken people connect.

You've already decided that you've given up on finding, not love, but companionship.

You've given up on love a long time ago, long before you'd reached your late 20s.

An old, creative and gentle soul, weighted down and scarred by childhood bullying, constant criticism by your family, societies bloody beauty standards and things you suffer from which you didn't even know how to describe let alone name in your youth.

Demisexuality? Body dysmorphia? Eating disorders? Anxiety? Insecurities, so deeply rooted, that they border on self-hatred?

And no, you never went to therapy – no. Gods, no, because if you go to therapy, you're mental, right? And how can your poor mother tell the rest of the family that you're mentally unstable? That something is wrong with her little, darling daughter? Hm?

So, no therapy, because your hyper-independence got your back. You're used to that, learned it in your younger years; always there for others, but no one ever stepped up for you, except yourself. Yet you're cursed to be an empath, so you never stopped caring for others, even if it killed you inside.

Giving. Giving. Giving. Tearing yourself apart to please and give up the love that brimmed in your kind heart. Never receiving anything good and soft, like some cheap whore, until there was little left of love to give.

Now you've turned cynical, cold, and lonely – or that's what you keep telling yourself to keep the façade up. Hiding behind humour and feigned nonchalance, because you're an entertainer. Always have been. You would've been an amazing actress, but when you were younger, your mother told you that you could never be the love interest, so why bother go to acting school and actually do something you enjoy?

You rarely wallow in self-pity anymore; only occasionally, right before you get your period and your hormones make you feel sad and depressed, make you break and hate yourself. Quiet and in secrecy, in the safety of your dark bedroom, or in front of the bathroom mirror – just to play out a sad scene in your delusional mind. Probably with a fictional man, someone who'd never hurt you – in your alternate universe.

Accept. Adapt. Overcome. Repeat.

It isn't ideal, but you've found coping mechanisms that work for you, albeit some unhealthy ones and you've survived so far. Emphasis on survived, not lived.

You're so deep in your thoughts, on the brink of dissociation, that you don't even realize you've been staring – again.

Your eyes flutter briefly, focusing back on the here and now until you realize what or, rather, who you have been staring at like some creep.

Fuck.

It's that man with the skull mask, not a ski mask, but a balaclava – you've googled it the first time you'd seen him around the café. You'd even researched if face coverings like that are illegal in the UK – turns out they're not, unless you refuse to take it off when a police officer orders you to.

He's staring right back at you; dark brown eyes unblinking, skin around the eye holes covered up by some black smudge – combat or war paint, probably. Sitting at the table right across from you by the cafés large windows; incredibly out of place for such a soft and quaint establishment. Nursing a tea, looking menacing and intimidating with his massive physique and black clothing, yet his eyes hold something more than stoicism in them. You know, because you see it yourself when you look into any mirror.

Bottled up emotions, a myriad of them, simmering just below the surface like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt someday.

You narrow your eyes then, force yourself not to tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy would do, because you don't want him to know that you're actually perceiving him this time – and not merely daydreaming and brooding like you usually do. Cursing internally, when you eventually lose this staring competition that you've completely just made up in your mind, because his eyes are too intense and he's obviously immune to social awkwardness, you reach for your lukewarm  matcha latte, taking a small sip as you turn your head away to stare out of the large shop windows, pretending to watch passers-by.

You force yourself to focus on the shitty UK weather outside, resting your chin on the back of your hand, elbow propped up on the cheap table. Rain and wind and colourful leaves grazing the wet pavement as the seasons start changing and autumn begins creeping in. You like autumn, prefer it over summer every year – and your mind begins to drift again, distracted by random strangers outside, grey clouds in the sky and fat raindrops pitter-pattering against the windows.

Meanwhile, his eyes never waver from you, and Simon catches himself wondering, what you might be thinking about now.

Time passes, and you try to keep your routine up – going out for a coffee once or twice every week, so you won't die of loneliness or isolation. At least, the café is nice, the baristas as well, it's not far from your flat and it's usually not that crowded nor busy.

Or so it was during summer.

Now, all people want to do is drink their coffees and teas inside, apparently, since the temperatures have dropped, along with the leaves.

After ordering your matcha latte, you turn around to see that your favourite spot by the window has been occupied in the past six minutes of standing by the counter. If only the lady in front of you had ordered her bloody tea and biscuits a smidge faster, but nah, you're not that lucky.

Groaning internally, you move to the table across from your fave, pulling one of the two plastic chairs out with more force than necessary because you're petty and annoyed. It's loud – not too loud, actually, but louder than it usually is – and you curse yourself for going out. You should've just stayed in this afternoon, curled up on your couch, playing some Baldur's Gate or so.

Some minutes pass after receiving your hot beverage and you've managed to drown out the noises and successfully ignore the sudden hubbub around the café.

That is until you notice a looming presence next to you; aura thick like molasses and prominent like the smell of gasoline, you don't know if you like it or not. It does catch your attention, though, and you turn your head to the left, eye-level with his denim-clad crotch, perhaps a little too close for the acceptable social standards.

Furrowing your brows in both confusion and offense, you have to tilt your head back and lean back in your chair to meet his eyes. How can those eyes be soft and aloof at the same time?

"Uh, hi?" You say then, brows still furrowed; not a greeting but an out for him to excuse himself for getting too close and fuck off again.

"Yer in me seat." He counters bluntly, voice incredibly rough and accented and muffled by the fabric of his mask as he gestures at the table with his gloved hand and holding a small coaster with a steaming cup of tea on top of it in the other one delicately. It looks comical and stupid, yet somehow endearing.

You're dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at him in disbelief before finding your wit again, nodding your chin at the two chatting women sitting at your favourite table.

"And they're in mine," you say matter of factly, "If we go by that logic." You add dryly, picking up your latte, because the conversation is surely over.

He stays by your side, unmoving like a marble statue, dark eyes flickering somewhat nervously between you and the empty chair across from yours. Simon doesn't know how to properly interact with a civilian anymore; let alone a female civvie, and he ponders for a moment if he should just leave again, have a cuppa at his own flat.

But Simon's therapist had advised him, pleaded with him, to at least try and make a friendly connection with someone outside of his military comfort zone and well, here you are. At least your face is familiar already and you look harmless...safe.

"May I...sit with ye, lass?" He almost grits through his teeth, doing his best to ignore the way his heart beats hard against his ribcage as he waits for your rejection.

You pick up on the vulnerability in his voice, his demeanour, as if asking costs him some courage; truth be told, it would cost you some, too. Perhaps it's the fact that you've become silent acquaintances over the past few weeks; meeting up at this place without even meaning to. Each of you alone, always.

You stop in your movements, lifting the rim of your mug just to your lips before lowering it again, holding his gaze without taking a sip.

Sit with me? You muse to yourself, surveying him up close briefly and for the first time, at least consciously. He shifts on his feet some, heavy black boots – always boots, always layers of dark clothing, always the skull balaclava, no matter the temperature.

However, despite his looks, despite his authoritative and all-consuming aura and your better judgement, you nod once, cursing your intuition and empathy, nudging the empty chair away from the table from beneath it with your foot – a wordless permission, or perhaps an invitation?

And Simon exhales a long breath through his nose, jaw unclenching slightly as he gives a curt nod, sets his tea on the table and takes a seat on the offered chair. Easy.

And that is that.

The next time you're at the café, you breathe a sigh of relief to find it relatively empty for the time, except for some elderly customers and students working in silence on their laptops.

You're delighted to find your favourite table empty again and you order your usual matcha latte with coconut milk before eagerly sinking into the chair at 'your' table with a contented sigh and a good view on the people and life outside the cosy café.

Then your peace is once again disturbed by the soft clink of a tea cup being placed on the table, followed by the empty chair across from you scraping over the old hardwood floor, before he slips into the seat with a quiet huff.

"Your table is free," you tell him immediately, leaning to the side to look past his massive frame at the unoccupied table behind him.

"Aye, I know," he responds gruffly, folding his forearms on the table while he looks outside the window, "Figured we can ah safe space by sitting together." He suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though internally, Simon's stomach is clenching with nerves and anxiety. He despises feeling awkward and being in situations he cannot control.

Yes, it does feel incredibly awkward, but deep down you're too nice to tell him to fuck off, because he hasn't given you a reason to do so. When you were forced to share a table last time, you sat in somewhat comfortable silence, though you'd definitely finished your drink faster than usual back then before uttering a polite goodbye and slipping away.

"I guess so," you mutter in return because he's already sat down anyway.

Silence ensues, but you can't ignore the sudden tension of unasked questions and the pressure of social interactions. Then, it's too quiet in the establishment, and you both suddenly and silently hate it.

"Ye enjoy observin' people?"

His question catches you off guard because he sounds genuinely interested in you answer, and it's unnerving.

"Yeah, you could say that," you answer curtly, crossing your legs at your ankles under the table and leaning back into the cheap chair to feign nonchalance, even though you're currently anything but, "I find it relaxing."

"That's...strange," Simon retorts, quirking an eyebrow behind the safety of his balaclava, because he does that, too, and he never thought you'd blatantly admit that. Is people watching a thing among civvies? Then you shoot him an offended look and he can't help but cringe internally.

"Didn't mean it like that, lass." He assures you in a mumble, eyes flickering down to his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.

Your first instinct is to mock him for his silly mask, ask him if he's a thug or cosplaying as one or some hooligan, but you bite your tongue, because you know better, and you feel like he could make you regret your sass. Especially if one of those assumptions proofs true.

"And what do you always do around here, hm? Never see you read a book or newspaper, let alone play with your phone," you ask instead, not even hiding the accusatory undertone as you turn your upper body towards the window. You're involuntarily dismissive, because it's been a while since you talked to a stranger like that, let alone a man.

"Same as ye, lass," he grumbles, "Thinkin', observin'...enjoyin' the peace." As if internal peace could ever be achieved in his case.

There's another moment of awkward silence and your mind is racing, riddled with anxiety, though unbeknownst to you, so is his. Simon is so out of his element and yet he forces himself to stay, unless you blatantly tell him to fuck off – which, deep down, he hopes you will.

"You're not some creep are you? 'Cause I swear, I'll clock you if you try anything or follow me home after this," you tell him with an edge to your voice, like you mean it. You're not opposed or afraid of violence. You grew up with older brothers and cousins.

Simon snorts at your threat, genuinely. He's taken off guard by your fierceness and he's absolutely sure you're serious about this, and he hates to know that he's capable of taking you down if he wanted to, even if you'd fight tooth and nail. It makes him feel guilty, makes his gut twist and churn because of those dark thoughts coming up in his brain like some black pest, even though he'd never ever do anything to hurt you.

"'m not," he assures you, eyes flickering over to study your face, your expression. You look tense and standoffish, and he can't help but admire that; to know that you're not afraid, that you can take care of yourself if push comes to shove.

"Name's Simon." He offers it like an oblation, a small yet important piece of himself, putting his given name and some trust into the hands of a stranger, and asking nothing in return.

You're once again dumbfounded and yet your mistrust and suspicious nature get triggered; squinting your eyes as him, your heart and brain are in utter turmoil.

"Didn't ask," you eventually retort coolly, like a proper arsehole, even though, deep down, it hurts yourself, hurts you to be rude like that, especially as you see something flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise? Hurt? Anger? You can't tell, but he leans back in his seat, gives a curt nod, accepting your snappish response just like that, and you think he'll leave, but he stays seated.

"I'm...sorry," you utter suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of your grey oversized hoodie, "That was...unnecessarily rude." You admit with a deep sigh. But was it, though? He's a stranger, some bloke with a mask, who just randomly decided to sit with you and introduce himself–

"It's fine, lass," he says, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts with his deep gravelly voice, "A reasonable reaction, really."

It is, Simon thinks. He might have questioned you about your thoughts on self-preservation and your survival instinct, if you wouldn't have reacted the way you just did.

He contemplates lifting his mask to finally take as sip of his tea, but like always, it costs him every ounce of courage to do so while you're looking at him so shamelessly with your alert eyes and that slight frown on your face, and Simon rubs his gloved palms over his thighs below the table to soothe himself as you keep scrutinizing him.

But then you utter your name in return, albeit hesitantly, and his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, noticing the hint of curiosity in your eyes.

You don't see him, Simon, for several weeks after that and after some contemplation, you decide that he must've found a new café to hang out at or perhaps he got arrested eventually. You don't care either way.

But then, why do your eyes keep flickering around the shop whenever you drink your matcha latte? Why do you stare at the empty chair at his 'favourite table'? Why do you keep wondering what happened to him?

You don't want to accept it, don't want to acknowledge it, but deep down, you actually enjoyed having a proper chat with him the last time you saw him. When he so randomly decide to sit with you and introduce himself. You swiftly fix the slight purse of your lips as your mind keeps pondering about this stranger and you force yourself to enjoy your hot beverage until you can get back home and feel accomplished for actually having spent time outside your comfort zones, namely your flat and workspace.

But it's lonely. Always lonely.

In those few moments you'd shared with Simon, despite the awkwardness and that uncomfortable feeling of being perceived by someone, you'd realized that something has been missing in your life. Perhaps you should give your parents and siblings a call back; perhaps you should answer all those ignored messages in your phone; messages that have become less and less, because the people closest to you will eventually stop reaching out. You know that spiel already, yet you're having so much trouble actually pulling yourself out of this hole of self-isolation, a hole that's become suffocating, draining the colour from your life while you keep telling yourself that you're fine, that you want it this way.

"Lass?"

His voice cuts through your overthinking mind like a hot knife through butter and your eyes immediately find his gaze, that unwavering, piercing stare of his.

"Simon," you say in return, more like a greeting if it wouldn't be for the shocked pitch lacing your voice. You can faintly see his tired eyes crinkle slightly as he rests one gloved hand on the backrest of the empty chair across from you and you wonder if he's smiling behind his mask.

"Remember me name, aye?" He asks gruffly, almost playfully, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his chapped lips beneath his mask as he pulls out the chair, waiting for your permission.

"Tsk. Obviously," you answer with a scoff and an eye roll before giving him a short nod. "No tea?" You remark as he sits down without it, raising an eyebrow as you sip on your own drink.

"Err, no. Not stayin' for one," he answers, shaking his head, "Was jus' in the area," he lies, "Figured I could drop by and say 'ello." He adds with a shrug, feeling utterly stupid now, because Simon definitely was not in the area.

He came home from a deployment last night and wanted to check on you for some reason, see if you're still coming here, see if you’re doing alright – but of course, you are.

"Mhm," you hum affirmingly, though more suspicious than ever as you survey him. You want to spit out Why?,  the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re somehow too distracted by his overall appearance.

The paint around his eyes has faded, as if rubbed and smudged too many times. He smells an awful lot of tobacco and something else you can't quite pinpoint. Even in his usual attire of some type of black jacket or hoodie, jeans, boots and his balaclava, he looks terribly dishevelled and messy.

"Where have you been?" You find yourself asking before you can stop your mouth from moving. "If you don't mind me asking." You add casually, for good measure.

“Deployed.” Simon answers offhandedly, sounding colder than he intended to, and you do pick up on the shift in attitude; he doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” you retort with a nod, though your curiosity is sparked, and you click your tongue, pondering, before you confuse him as you let out a little snort.

Of course, he's a fucking soldier, you muse to yourself, should've figured that out myself.

You can practically see him raise his eyebrows in confusion, noticing how the fabric of his bloody mask shifts slightly.

“Ye laughin’ at me for servin’ me country?” He asks and desperately hopes that you pick up on the teasing tone in his voice, though it’s still hoarse from barking orders at his men for days on end.

“No,” you answer uncharacteristically soft, flashing him a rare genuine and sheepish smile, “I always wanted to join the military myself.”

Simon doesn’t know if it’s the smile you shoot him, catching him off guard, because he’s never seen that expression on your face before, let alone that sudden twinkle in your eyes as you admit that you’ve thought about enlisting in your past, but he suddenly feels even more intrigued by you; this secluded, lovely civilian in front of him, and he finds himself asking then,

“Why didn’t ye enlist?”

Perhaps he should get that tea after all.

Part 2 ?

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged theory:

Sanemi has some form of anxiety

Let me explain:

We all know Sanemi is depressed but I think he has some kind of anxiety disorder too. The evidence is based on two categories:

Sleep Deprivation

Anxiety & Stress

Sleep Deprivation

For this point, I made the diagram below(yes, I have no personal life 😔).

The main symptom that supports the sleep deprivation theory is his bloodshot eyes. Sanemi's eyes are always bloodshot and he always has eyebags, even when he's in a relaxed state (you can tell because his 'eye dots' are larger) which could be an indication of lack of sleep.

His scraggly hair could also be a symptom because aside from Giyuu (who has depression) he's the only Hashira that doesn't seem to take care of his hair.

Another observation I made is that Sanemi is always leaning on something or hanging on something. He also puts his chin on his hand/palm, I do that when I'm tired too.

Or sometimes, he hangs on to his belt.

It seems like a stretch but he does these things often and he's the only character -that I know of- that does this. It could just be a character quirk though, due to his ghetto upbringing.

He's also the only one visibly tired after the training session between him, Obanai, and Muichiro.

I noticed in the first episode of the Hashira Training Arc right after the Infinity Fortress trial period expired and he ended up stabbing the floor, he immediately sat down. Why? Seems like a weird thing to do .

Then there's all the wobbling he does in the mansion while fighting the demons.

Anxiety & Stress

The evidence for this has to do more with his behavior and actions, especially his anger and impulsive decisions. Most people associate anxiety with fear which makes sense but anxiety can also manifest as anger too.

From the article linked below,

Anxiety causes anger for several reasons. At its peak, anxiety can cause overwhelming emotions and thoughts that make you lash out in an attempt to regain your sense of power in a stressful situation.

Anxiety as anger can be triggered by:

Flight-or-fight response - when he feels threatened

Emotional exhaustion - from his past trauma and loss

Perceived loss of control - encounters with Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤)

Cognitive distortions - his belief that he's a monster, that he has to shoulder things by himself etc.

The perceived loss of control I feel is a defining factor for the two drastic decisions he's known for:

Stabbing Nezuko – A Corps member has been harboring a demon. In his mind, the Corps has been infiltrated, and Tanjiro’s probably been feeding Nezuko people.

Trying to poke Genya’s eyes out – His brother has been eating demons. He probably fears that Genya will turn into a demon and then he will have to kill his only surviving family member. Or that Genya will die early if he continues eating demons and fighting.

When it comes to stress, he displays the following symptoms:

Irritability

Anger

Grumpiness

Always on edge

Restlessness

Impatience

His impatience with others and with himself, with him trying to get the mark as fast as possible also points to anxiousness. His white hair too! He hair probably turned prematurely grey due to environmental stress, taking care of his family, worrying about keeping them safe, his violent upbringing and probably lack of nutrients from food because he would most likely have his younger siblings eat all the food instead of him.

So everything is all tied together. His anxiety from past trauma contributes to his present anxiety which prevents him from getting proper sleep and increases his stress levels which leads to even more anxiety.

But how does he fight and stay so alert then?

I think his anxiety disorder is high functioning plus he takes a lot of matcha tea which has caffeine. His constant eating of ohagi probably also keeps him hyper too.

Another piece of evidence that solidifies my theory is the appearance of his eyes in the last chapters.

Probably had that sleep he hadn't gotten in years.

In Conclusion, our boy Sanemi has some form of Generalized Anxiety Disorder and is highly stressed due to lack of sleep which is why he acts and looks like a crackhead. He needs some sleep and possibly to get laid.

[creaman]

—BECAUSE KUNG FU PANDA 4 KILLED MY GRANDMA, OKAY?

To preface, I watched this movie and I'm genuinely tweaking right now so I had to write down a very brief (lie) criticism on this film — which you should boycott, by the way.

Starting with the things I liked, before briefing my primary points of criticism:

Po's Character Regression

Po and Zhen's Dynamic

The Chameleon

I'd also yap about Lord Shen and the death of the art style and the entire narrative and pacing and use of the staff of wisdom but my therapist says being such a hater is 'unhealthy' or something. My heart is full of hatred.

SPOILERS for the entirety KFP4 for the 2 people who care.

KFP4 undermines and ignores the previous three movies — Unwriting character developments, outright removing the Furious Five, straying from the character design philosophies and is completely inconsistent with the established lore.

Things I Liked About Kung Fu Panda 4

The Chameleon's character design

Visual gag in the Tavern where Po uses a recently thrown axe as a hat rack (made me laugh)

When Mr. Ping did this:

so cute! the little heart!

Po — Character Writing

Po, as established in the previous movies, is confident in his abilities and identity — he’s learnt inner peace, he’s matured as a character. However, in KFP4, his character has completely regressed. He’s immature again (such as KFP1, possibly worse) and says verbatim, “only knows kicking butt and taking names” — UNLEARNING inner peace and insisting that “…being the Dragon Warrior is all I know.”

It’s childish, and sort of Hotel Transylvania-esque.

Which isn’t helped by the comedy, the dialogue — a large chunk of which are jokes in the style of:

Master Shifu says something philosophical

Po quips off of it / doesn’t get it (i.e. Whoa!! beat I don’t know what that means.)

Oh, it’s great, yeah, very tolerable. Po’s shenanigans are normally reeled in by the presence of the Furious Five who are generally more serious in nature, creating a much needed balance in the dynamic — So without them, it’s just Po becoming increasingly obnoxious and insufferable with every consecutive quip throughout the screenplay.

Po and Zhen — Character Dynamics

[No more graphics sorry I'm too angry]

As if it wasn’t obvious that Zhen was going to be the next Dragon Warrior the second she was introduced.

Zhen, as a character, has no depth besides being a quippy thief. She quips, she steals. This character has no motives — it can be assumed that the writers intended on a ‘change of heart’ thing, but she isn’t established as evil, her working for the Chameleon is written as a (albeit poor) twist reveal.

By which point, her taking either side wouldn’t make sense, given that she has shown no loyalty or attachment to either Po nor the Chameleon.

The movie artificially strengthens their bond by having Zhen start opening up about her backstory out of nowhere for no reason but they have done nothing to grow closer to each other.

Small tangent, her backstory is exactly what you’d expect it to be with no subversions or even emotional weight. Woe is me I was so small and hungry I had to steal to survive. Glossed over in about a minute.

The majority of the dialogue between Zhen and Po is spoken exposition — explaining how powerful and badass the Chameleon is, explaining how ‘we have to go here to do that’ and ‘this place was cool until the Chameleon did such and such’, and the rest of their time together is spent engaging in filler chase sequences and fight scenes.

The Chameleon

Where do I even start…

This is where it becomes apparent that the movie relies heavily on telling rather than showing —

She is the weakest villain by far, not only in universe but as a written character; which is particularly disheartening because I genuinely adore her character design and feel as though a shapeshifting character has great potential.

The movie artificially inflates her power by insisting through exposition that this is the most capable antagonist thus far (lie).

The audience is TOLD by Zhen and various restaurant patrons that the Chameleon is a powerful shapeshifting sorceress and that she 'dominates the city' whilst the film does nothing to showcase this.

'Dominating the city' meaning letting her henchpeople run amock and bully the civilians just like Lord Shen's wolves in KFP2... uninspired.

I just realised they didn't even give her a NAME what the FUCK is going on

She describes HERSELF as ruthless, clever and unsentimental when comparing Zhen to herself.

She says HERSELF that she’s “Stronger than every opponent you’ve ever faced.”

Let’s see what vile reprehensible things she’s done, shall we?

Gently push someone down some stairs

Her first appearance is through Zhen’s exposition, as opposed to the dramatic and memorable entrances of the previous villains. Her motives or character aren’t established until the final third of the film. She doesn’t even FIGHT anybody until the final third of the film; and even then, her fight sequences are uninspired and she never really poses a real threat. (She goes down in two hits.)

That being said, WE CAN STILL SAVE HER GUYS WE CAN STILL GET HER OUTTA THERE I'M COMING FOR YOU CHAMELEON I'M GONNA DRAFT YOU A PROPER BACKSTORY AND MOTIVE AND YOU'RE GONNA BE THE MOST THREATENING VILLAIN THUS FAR

There's a scene after the climax of the film where all the kung fu masters and previous villains from the spirit realm bow to Po. I'm not going to provide my thoughts on this because I fear I may burst a blood vessel. Good day!

Closing Statements

To put it simply, Kung Fu Panda 4 was my Megamind 2.

The film rejects its predecessors in every way. It really feels as though they brought in somebody with no prior knowledge of the franchise to direct the movie.

It's a film that relies heavily on telling rather than showing — banking on the previous three movies to carry it through the box office.

It's just really disheartening to see studio execs turn one of the best franchises into a safe sequel cash grab and regress every character's development.

Nevertheless. I do adore the chameleon's character design so I might do my own take on her character.

As far as I'm concerned, there is no fairy godmother, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no kung fu panda 4.

[slut4thebroken]

Delulu vampire!Crane deleted scene lol

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Vampire!Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jonathan takes care of his little prey.

Warnings | He’s kinda creepy, and very judgy lol, and of course very delulu but we love it.

Words | 640

Notes | Idk for some reason I didn’t really want to include this at the end of the fic but I already wrote it so I figured I’d post it 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

Previous part

Once inside the building, he found your keys in your purse and opened the front door, then carried you inside, gently kicking it shut behind him. Your apartment was small and he found your bedroom easily. After laying you on top of the bed, he hesitated. You were covered in dirt and blood, and it would only take a second to clean you up before he left… So he found the bathroom and rummaged through all of your cabinets, taking in every detail before eventually grabbing the wash cloth that was right in front of his face, getting it damp with water.

He sat down next to you on the bed and carefully wiped the mascara tracks from your cheeks and the smears of red from your lips, neck, and chest. He didn’t touch your pussy though— he wanted you to have a chance at remembering exactly what happened.

Once he finished cleaning you up, he figured he should leave some stuff on your nightstand for when you woke up. He got the painkillers he saw in the bathroom, then went to the kitchen for a glass of water, deciding to take a detour through your living room. Your place wasn’t too messy, but it wasn’t nearly clean enough for his liking.

He also got a flicker of excitement in his chest when he saw the bookcase full of books, but the feeling faded when he walked over to examine them. Jonathan reminded himself that you were your own person, of course you wouldn’t have the same taste in books as him, but he was still disappointed at all of the fantasy and romance covers he saw. He’ll have to encourage you to branch out, start reading more educated books— maybe he should get you some for when he sees you next.

He finally made his way to the kitchen and frowned when he opened the fridge and freezer— not a single fruit or vegetable in sight. This was absolutely unacceptable. You seemed like you were in pretty decent shape, especially when you were running, but maybe it was just the adrenaline. He can’t have a prey who lives off of frozen meals, you’ll barely survive the next chase. The pantry was worse; so many chips and snacks, all of them unhealthy.

Were his eating habits much better before he turned? No… But he had an excuse. He ordered takeout all the time because he was busy working a real job and doing experiments, not reading silly books. He’ll just have to find a way to help you change this part of your lifestyle as well.

Finally, he got a glass of water and a snack he found in the pantry that looked like the ‘healthiest’ option in there… When he placed them on the nightstand and saw you again, he faltered. You looked so uncomfortable, it was only right that he changed you into some pajamas.

So he walked over to your dresser and started with the top drawers. Lots of socks and plain underwear, then he found the lace. So many bodysuits, matching sets… he couldn’t wait to see you wear these for him. He went through the rest of your dresser, inspecting all of your clothes before pulling out some sweatpants and a shirt.

Changing your clothes was easy with his enhanced strength and when he finished, he took a step back, but something was missing… Socks. He walked back over to the dresser for a pair of fuzzy socks that he saw, then slipped them on your feet.

As a finishing touch, he took out the bullet from his pocket and set it on your nightstand next to the water. He desperately wanted to stay longer, maybe fuck you again, but he reluctantly left, already imagining how the next hunt might go.

[hypnoticmoth]

Some informations about After the tower fell setting ! And some tidbits ! - It takes place a few months after the events of season 1. The Vees are slowly taking over some new territories in the city as they have been unaffected by the Exorcists's attack on the hotel. Just like they said, there is now a power imbalance in Pentagram, and they are taking full advantage of it. Rosie has lost a lot of her cannibals during the fight and is weakened, forced to defend without any possibility to attack back. Carmilla Carmine has also been weakened after lending so much angelic weapons to the hotel, putting her in a precarious situation, even with Zestial's partnership. Basically, the Overlords are at each other's throat, trying to gain in power and the Vees are taking full advantage of it, using the tense climate to turn everyone against each other through misinformation and manipulation. (It also doesn't calm anyone that Lucifer is back and might have a hand in what the Overlords are doing in Pride) - Vox is fearmongering the population of Pentagram city by slowly corrupting the informations about what happened at the hotel. Turning a heroic battle into a severe misstep that will costs Sinner's lives (and using it all to sell his products or future products). He speaks of Heaven ready to wage a full on war against Hell. Not only he is slandering the hotel, but also turning the citizen of Pentagram hostile toward the patrons and Charlie. - Heaven stays silent for a while, merely mourning the loss of Adam and observing the events in Hell. Between the Overlords' squabbles and the Sinners of the Pride ring becoming restless, they fear a war will be inevitable. And eventually their fear proves true. Sinners and Overlords now know how to kill Angels, and with their numbers growing exponentially, Angels have to put a stop to it for the sake of Heaven's souls. - The V tower collapses soon after the beginning of the war with Heaven. Alastor lured Exorcists to it and rampaged through the halls as well before vanishing, but not before making sure all three Vees knew it was him. He wanted to make sure they knew he didn't take kindly to being relentlessly taunted and slandered these last few months. - A lot of the Vees's employees died, breaking a ton of soul contracts, weakening them considerably. Some other soul contracts got erased because the Overlords broke specific terms. (I spoke about it more in another post) - Vark is Vox's only pet that survived. - Valentino and Velvette are blaming Vox's unhealthy obsession with Alastor for their downfall. During the months leading to their end, they tried, multiple times, to reason with him to stop attacking the hotel and to focus on the other Overlords instead.

[yinyuedijun]

end notes for 'translation' (spoiler warning!):

hello <3 if you're here then it means you read my cursed aventurine fic about cultural loss and the fear of being understood. thank you for sticking it out with me! much appreciated.

i wanted to add some notes here to explain my intention with some of the details in this story, because it touched on some very sensitive subjects and I don't want to be misread:

I do not believe that dialects or any type of language variant born from displacement, genocide, or diasporic communities are somehow lesser than the “original” dialects. However, I do think first/second gen speakers that lose their language (especially for political reasons or displacement, etc) can experience a lot of anguish over it, and that’s reflected in Aventurine’s narration.

Aventurine did not believe the racist Avgin stereotype he brought up (nor would I write a narrative where such a stereotype were true). However, the stereotype happens to overlap with some of his survival traits that he hates about himself, hence he used it as part of his power play. The interaction also has some relation to the way that marginalised persons sometimes weaponize or internalise the stereotypes they need to endure, as well as what it means to be the only representative of your race, but that's a whole other subjectivity in this narrative that I will choose not to discuss.

I think this will be obvious to multilinguals so this is a note directed at monolinguals: I don't think enduring abuse in a formative language necessarily “ruins” the language and turns it into a “dialect of abuse” in the way that having a second language being violently forced upon you will. In my experience, a mother tongue is a mother tongue, and it will always hit you in a sensitive way, particularly if you are experiencing cultural loss—which the MC has, in the context of colonialism and displacement (only vaguely implied in the story but it's relevant context). Nevertheless, the MC has a much more complex, adult native-speaker relationship to their mother tongue than Aventurine does with Avgin. This is what those ending passages were getting at.

Finally, I am aware the relationship between the MC and Aventurine is unhealthy, and I hope that this would have been obvious from the narrative. I don't condone relationships like this and I think both characters should get some therapy instead of routinely gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing each other (and themselves). But for better or worse, that is a narrative I will not write for this couple.