#like i said i am rotten to the core

[elronds-pointy-ears]

Well i have no idea what you mean with your tags??? 👀👀 i was speaking about the telly what were you talking about?

he’s got a big telly guys..👀 

[neerons]

Some of Gilbert von Obsidian's best quotes

[Warning: Heavy spoilers about Gilbert's route]

"Ahaha, what is the prince of Obsidian, if not rotten?"

"I hate people."

"No matter how hard I try not to, I can't help but be gentle with her. What kind of villain am I?" (—Gilbert talking about Emma to himself)

"(...) I hope you don't accidentally end up calling me 'big bro' or anything." (—Gilbert to Leon)

"(...) You were just saying what you really think. I don't think doing that is rude. And it's true I'm someone scary."

"I like you because you're so warm, little rabbit."

"Ahaha! You're so sassy. But I like that about you."

"I want to make things awkward for you."

"You can't just focus on the best of someone while ignoring the worst of them."

"If you were a bother, I'd kill you, so don't worry." *smile intensifies*

"...I'm no match for that pure, innocent gaze of yours. You're the only one capable of pushing me around, you know."

"Depending on what you say next, I might just take your head clean off." (—Angry Gilbert to Emma)

"(...) You nearly died. ...Do you have any idea how much that chilled me to the core?"

"The only thing I can ever be for you is a villain. ...Unfortunately."

"...Thank you. I almost got murdered by some dust."

"If you keep on lying over and over about being fine, I might just... Well, you can guess, right?"

"I found it in a book in the little rabbit's room. They need to understand what happens to them if they try to interfere with what's mine... Don't they?" (—Gilbert talking about a poisoned needle targeting Emma to Roderic)

"You said it, remember? You said you wanted me to learn to love Rhodolite. To me, you are Rhodolite."

"Those born with status have the right to do whatever they like to those who are lesser than them. That's what you want to say, isn't it? (...) Hmm? What's that? You look a little distressed for some reason. But I suppose that's no surprise. You see, I have the right to tyrannize you however I please, just as you tyrannized those children who had no one to protect them. I'm imperial royalty, and you're just a third-rate aristocrat. So I'm going to have to teach you just how different our social positions are... Aren't I? (...) Aren't you lucky that we're in Rhodolite? You've narrowly escaped death. If this was Obsidian, you'd be dead for sure. After all, we have no need for disgusting nobles who defile the purity of children." (—Gilbert to a Baron of Rhodolite)

"Wait, so you're telling me you baked cookies for another man, even though I'm right here. Ouch, that hurts."

"(...) if by chance I run into your dear papa, he'll kill me." (—Gilbert talking about Akatsuki)

"Welcome to Obsidian. (...) I introduced myself as Gilbert von Obsidian, didn't I? There's only one person in this country allowed to use the Obsidian name. And that's the emperor."

"There's nothing about you or me that makes one of us intrinsically inferior or superior to the other. Humans are all basically the same. And naturally, from a societal perspective, we probably need people who can take the lead. People who are capable, and talented, who can bring others together, and build a better tomorrow. That's a healthy way to be. I'm the ruler of a country that knows deception and decay all too well, so I understand better than most. That's why my ideal, my ambition, is to conquer all the royalty that have infested this whole continent, and free the people who are under their control."

"I wrote that story based on you. (...) Akatsuki told me a lot of stories about you, and they were always stories about you showing love and affection for others. He made it sound like you believed that the true nature of people is love, and that the happiness of others was what made you the happiest. The idea of living like that was repulsive to me, but at the same time, it made me curious. I got to wondering what sort of choices you'd make, if you were in the same position I was."

"You were bullying small children to amuse yourselves. That Rhodolitian might have stopped at just punching you, but I'm not that kind. Did I make military regulations or didn't I? And do those regulations say attacking non-combattants is forbidden, or don't they?" (—Gilbert to Obsidianite soldiers)

"Then how about you call me papa?" (—Gilbert to Luke)

"...Don't go. (...) I don't know... if I can hold on... until you get back. Being on my own... is lonely..."

"...You're the only one I'll ever love."

"I'm taking your daughter." *smile intensifies* (—Gilbert to Akatsuki)

"I'm not oppressing you with my power, it's just my love for you, overflowing."

"You can't do things like this with other men... Unless you want to see dead bodies."

"You're liked by everybody. A lot of the princes helped you out today. That's because people adore you, and they naturally want to help you out. They're all beasts with strong characters, but you're important to all of them. Do you know how rare that is? That means you're charming to everyone you meet. ...Including me, of course."

"There's no way I'd ever let anyone else kill you. It has to be me."

"I can't just bare my body for free."

"I've never liked seeing you clothe your body in things that other people have put their hands all over."

"Don't force yourself to talk. I'm not so narrow-minded that I'll go around saying you're disrespectful just because you didn't thank me. You're sick; you're supposed to just drink medicine and sleep."

"Wah, boohoo. I can't believe we were on different pages this whole time. I've given you my entire heart, and yet, look at what you've done with it! (...) Waaah, I'm so heartbroken that the only thing that could bury my sadness is world domination!"

"For his sake, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear him call me 'eyepatch bastard'. Rude." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Silvio)

"Her ability to right what was wrong, purify what was once sullied... It runs at complete odds with my nature. I may have truly met my match." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"I blinked a few times as my vision seemed to expand all at once... and the little rabbit become clearer and even more beautiful." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"I'm never letting you go. If you run away from me, I'll conquer the whole world and follow you to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes. No wait... I just need to control your heart, so that you'll never even want to leave me." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"We all approach life differently. Chevalier slices hearts in two. I trample on them. But, you... You respect them."

"I wanted to see you bawling your eyes out."

"You're... the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I like the little rabbit very much, you see. So I certainly hope that bold declaration of yours doesn't end up turning into a lie." (—Gilbert to Silvio, in Silvio's route)

"I'm not interested in the average woman. There's someone that caught my eye when I was young." (—Gilbert talking to Silvio, Rio, Keith, Sariel and Emma)

"You like these stories, don't you? Ones where a lowly village girl falls in love with a big, bad emperor and makes him change his ways—"

"It's a good thing I was born with a pretty face. If I looked scary without even trying, it would almost be TOO perfect."

"Keith, if you get tired, we can swap places. (...) Shame, Daddy says we can't." (—Gilbert talking about carrying Emma instead of Keith, but is stopped by Sariel)

"I was able to find some... treasure too, so I'm very satisfied with today." (—Gilbert most probably talking about Emma to the other princes and Emma)

"What? You'd like some new heads to decorate the castle's gates?" (—Gilbert to Emma telling him she wants friends)

"After a while of being betrayed over and over again, you start thinking to yourself. That maybe the world would be a better place if everyone who wasn't your friend just dropped dead."

"I know her. But only in fantasy. Because there's no way an Obsidianite royalty can have anything to do with a mere bookstore worker. (...) Die without meeting her? Or die after meeting her. Well, that's easy. I prefer the latter in that case." (—Gilbert's thoughts about Emma)

"I tried to hold down my excitement as I knocked softly on the door. (...) The door opened softly, revealing a woman that was different from what I had imagined. Strange. I thought she'd be more childish looking based on his stories. Her eyes that looked directly at me were clear and devoid of any baseless optimism. She was clearly a woman, not a child. I smiled to carefully hide my surprise. (...) She's purer and prettier than I imagined." (—Gilbert's thoughts about meeting Emma for the very first time)

"Oh, I get it. You think I was with another woman, don't you? Ahaha, you get jealous so easily. But don't worry, I only see you.If it would make you feel better though, I could always kill each and every single woman that gets close to me."

"...And so we've decided to officially hold our wedding ceremony. Can we count on your blessing, papa?" (—Gilbert to Akatsuki)

"You're much more important to me than family, you know. (...) After all, you're still alive, aren't you? I wouldn't kill you no matter what you did."

"I really do love you. And it's because I love you that I want to look good in front of you, and hide the things that I don't want you to see." (—Gilbert talking about his health condition to Emma)

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to officially bind you to me?" (—Gilbert's thoughts)

"Oh, that hurts... I just wanted to shower my beloved fiancee with my love, but I guess you don't want to... I'm absolutely heartbroken now. I might just have to go out and conquer one of the neighboring countries just to soothe myself."

"You're my type of lady. Do you know why? (...) I, for one, enjoy the rebellious, sassy look you always have in your eyes. I feel this strong will— that you will never bow down to me. That even though you're terrified, you won't run away."

[satorusugurugurl]

Hiii can i request reader x gojo, where reader keeps ruining his orgasm n just messing with him? And he’s all whiny and begging and shit? 🥺👉👈

Cranberry Juice and Rings

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 1,725

Warnings: Edging, orgasm denial, smut, whinny Gojo, dirty talk, sexting, toys

A/N: Ah, nothing like a good old whing Gojo fic! I love whimpering, groaning men!

Satoru was known by many as a pain in the ass. He was arrogant and cocky, but that didn’t stop you from loving him. He was one of your favorite people, a goofball, and he spoiled you rotten. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

But he was Gojo Satoru. Some days, he was unbearable to deal with, even for you. Days like today, for example. You had gotten a nasty UTI and were on a strict sex ban for a week. Gojo had been kind the first few days, picking up your prescription along with cranberry juice and supplements. By day four of the sex ban, he was pent up and decided it would be fun to tease you relentlessly. He started sexting you, sending you pictures and voice memos that had you clenching your thighs to try to ease the throbbing between your legs.

Satoru: I’m so sweaty! Look, it’s running down my V-line, baby~!

You: Stop trying to turn me on asshole. I literally cannot flick my bean or have sex for the next three days.

Satoru: Oh? That sucks for you. I don’t have to deal with that.

The man then proceeded to send you a video of him jerking off in the bathroom. If you didn’t feel like razors sliced you each time you used the bathroom, you would have found him and made him pay for a new pair of underwear and take care of the mess he had turned you into. However, the unpleasant throbbing between your legs prevented you from acting upon your desires.

You: Keep it up, Satoru. I will make you regret your choices.

Satoru: Oooh, I’m so scared~!

Your dear, sweet, idiotic boyfriend did not heed your warning. He only seemed to get worse after your ominous threat. Three days of torture later, Satoru eagerly ra into your shared condo, his calendar chiming with a reminder today was the day your medical sex ban was lifted. He has a week's worth of pussy eating to make up for, and he planned to take his time with you.

”Sweetheart!” He sang out, making his way through the condo. “I hope you’re ready!” Stepping inside the bedroom, Satoru blinked, finding you sitting on the edge of the bed in your sky-blue lace set. “What a good girl you are!” Drooping to his knees before you, he clapped his hands together. “Thanks for the mea—“

”Shut the fuck up and get on the bed.”

The stern tone of your voice has Satoru staring. “I’m sorry?” His smile was full of confusion as he forced your legs apart. “I said thanks for the meal, didn’t I?” Satoru began to dip his head between your thighs, but before he could reach your sweet, dripping core, you put your foot on his forehead, pushing him away. “Hey!” His bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

“Didn’t I warn you I would make you regret sending me all those thirst trap pictures and messages?”

”H-Huh?”

”I said, didn’t I warn you I would make you regret your choices?”

”W-Well, I m-mean you did, but I—“

”Good, boy.” A round silicon ring hit him in the face. “Now put that on and get on the bed.” Gulping, Satoru shakily did as you commanded, regret setting in the pit of his stomach as he did.

Any hopes for mercy went out the window as you bounced up and down on his cock as he sat upright against the headboard. You were grinning, hands gripping his shoulders as you came around him, pulling off, denying him the pleasure of feeling your cum, denying his orgasm for the third fucking time.

”F-Fuck Toru~ you’re such a good dildo.”

”S-Sweetheart—please, baby, I need you.”

”You need me?” You questioned with faux sympathy. “Oh, sweet boy, am I teasing you too much?” A delicate hand wrapped around his red throbbing length, the cock ring preventing him from cumming, thus making him ten times more sensitive.

”A-Ah! Yes, yes, baby, please, please, I need you!” Blue eyes watched as you stroked your hand up and down, pre-cum dribbled out of his tip, running over your manicured nails. “Oh fuck, I can feel it, keep going, keep going don’t stop!”

“Yeah?” Satoru cried out as you wrapped your other hand around him. Your hands squeezed his shaft as you moved them up and down, smirking as he whimpered, eyes transfixed on your tiny hands as his mouth opened in an ‘O’ shape. “Are you close, Toru? Are you going to make a mess for me?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

”Gonna cum pretty boy?”

”Fuck yes! Oooh fuck I’m so close, so fucking close, almost there, almost there!”

The second you saw white lashes flutter, you yank your hands away, preventing him from reaching his sweet release. Your boyfriend’s eyes narrowed and shot open in disbelief, focusing on the throbbing, swollen red tip that sobbed pre-cum instead of actual cum. His dick looked as upset as him, the intense orgasm fading.

”Babe!” Satoru threw his head back against the wooden frame with a pathetic whine. “I wanna cum!” Reaching out, you gently rubbed the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip.

”You wanna cum?”

”Yes, so bad!”

You straddled his hips with a hum, lowering yourself back down onto his velvety shaft with a satisfied moan. “Well, that sucks for you, I don’t have to deal with that.” You quoted his text before dragging your tight wet pussy up and down his swollen cock.

Satoru cried out, whining as you used his cock like it was a sex toy. This was literal torture, feeling your wet, warm walls clamp down around him, watching you tilt your head back in pleasure. Even hearing your moans fill the bedroom was driving him insane. You looked so hot and beautiful when you used him like this. He just wished he could be holding onto your hips, fucking his cock up into you, filling you with his cum as you both lost yourselves in pure orgasmic bliss. Lips moving against lips, swallowing each other, moans as you came down.

Instead, Satoru was crying out, whimpers sounding in the back of his throat. His hands fisted the sheets as he bit down on the inside of his cheek. He had thought teasing you this week was all fun and games! Get you all worked up and desperate for him to rearrange your insides. In his horny mind, it was like mental edging without touching

Yourself. What a terrible mistake that had been. The only one having fun and getting off at the current moment was you. While he suffered from the worst case of blue balls in his entire life.

“Shit! Oooh, shit!” Your brows furrowed as you cried out, reaching down and rubbing your clit. “C-Cumming~! Cumming Toru!” Just as your orgasm hit, you pulled off of him, squirting all over his stomach and cock with a squeal.

“F-Fuck, oh god.” Satoru quickly grabbed his cock, stroking himself off while you came all over him. “So hot~ so fucking hot!”

You recovered just in time to see Satoru jerking himself off, the tips of his ears turning red as his eyes began to roll back. “Nuh-uh!” swatting his hands away, Satoru groaned. “Bad boy!” When he reached for his swollen cock again. You grab both his wrists, pinning them down on either side of him. “I said no!” Poor Satoru cried out in frustration, tears welling in his eyes.

“Sweetie, baby, please.” He sobbed, cock dribbling more pre-cum onto his lower abdomen. “Please let me cum, please, baby, please! I'm sorry I was such an ass this week. I won't ever do it again!” Fingers gripped the sheets underneath him. “Please let me cum! Please!” Those tears filling his eyes finally spilled over his white lashes, staining his flushed cheeks.

“Oh, my baby~” Leaning in, you locked the salty tears up with the tip of your tongue. “You learned your lesson?”

“Uh-huh!” Satoru hiccuped as more tears streamed down his face.

“You see how it's not nice to tease? How cruel is it to cum in front of your partner when you're unable to do anything?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, honey! So sorry!”

Releasing both his wrists, you grabbed the sparkly blue cock ring that was securely on his base. “Good boy, Toru.” As soon as the toy was off, Satoru shoved you off, pushing you into the mattress. “Ooh fuck!” Giggled erupted as he threw both your feet over his shoulders before sliding into you.

“So good! S-aS good!” He cried out, throwing his head back, crying softly, and he slammed on and out of you. “I’m going to cum! Please cum with me! Milk my cock, baby! Milk it!”

“Yes, Toru! Cum inside of me, baby!” Your fingers found your clit with ease, rubbing it back and forth, whimpering as Satoru twitched inside of you. “Cum on, baby~ cum for me!”

Satoru’s jaw dropped open, eyes clamped shut as he cried out. He was crying out your name, whining, and whimpering like a cat in heat. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, filling you to the absolute brim, leaving you crying out with him. He rubbed his hips against you, only stopping when his eyes rolled back, dizziness overcoming him.

He collapsed onto your chest, full weight resting on you as he whimpered into the crook of your neck. He could stay like this forever, but just as he found himself dozing off, you were tapping on his shoulders. Lazily lifting his head, cerulean eyes met yours.

“Five minutes; I’m pushing you off if you stay inside me any longer.”

“Huh? Why?” Your boyfriend panted out.

“The last time we fell asleep like this, I got a UTI!”

“Mmm, it’s fine.” he’s sleepy, wrapped his arms around you. “Just five minutes.” you relaxed against him as he agreed on your time limit. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Satoru.” as he snuggled in closer, humming sleepily, you smiled, fingers brushing strands of hair off his brow. Maybe ten minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Forever Tag List!

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Dirty heart

Warning ⚠️; slight smut, fluff, mention of drinking blood. 🔞

Pairing; Batman/Vampire!Male!Reader

Summary; The Justice League hit a stalemate during a mission, but thankfully, Batman knows the perfect person to help them. The only problem is that you are absolutely shameless with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gotham was a nightmarish city. Rotten to its core and filled with corrupted souls, Gotham was the perfect playground for a creature of the night like you. You could feast as much as you wanted, no one ever questioned the trail of bodies you left behind you. Well, that was until you met Gotham’s well-known vigilante; Batman.

You remembered the first time you two met. It was a rainy and cold night and there weren't many pedestrians out. You were hunting, hoping for a quick meal when Batman jumped behind you. The battle was short-lived as you were faster and stronger than a mere mortal. But you didn't kill him, you didn't even drink his blood. You were too curious and wanted to know who was hidding under the mask, so you let him go.

Only to be able to hunt him down.

And what a beautiful mistake.

Because this time Batman was ready for you. You never expected to be outsmarted and bested by a man dressing as a bat, and yet you found yourself stuck in a cage facing the city’s multimillionaire Bruce Wayne. Thankfully for you, the man had no idea how to properly kill a vampire. You managed to pass a deal with Bruce Wayne; you could live in Gotham and feed, but only on the worst kind of criminals.

You obviously agreed and with the days and weeks passing, you slowly came to cohabit perfectly with fine with Batman. From time to time, you would join him in his nightly adventures, watching over him like an evil angel. You even saved his and Robin’s asses a few times, slowly winning over the kid.

Even Bruce got softer around you.

It was a slow process, but Bruce and you became closer. As an immortal vampire, you had amassed quite a fortune, so you could easily be part of the same gala that Bruce went to. Naturally, the papers jumped on the occasion, questioning the relationship between the two of you and so did you.

Bruce was a womanizer, a playboy, but you weren't better. Some could even call you a manwhore. It was only predictable that you ended up sharing a bed with Bruce, savouring the taste of his skin and drinking his moans. His blood became a favourite of yours and you loved biting him in the groin or leaving trails of small bites all over his body. Your own way of claiming him.

You respected each other lives too and never did you put your nose in his business as Batman, unless he needed your help. So you never once met the Justice League until now.

Bruce’s call took you by surprise, but when he said he needed your help with some important business, you immediately accepted. After all, Bruce wasn't one to ask for help. So you went to his manor and Alfred led you to the batcave.

Down there you came face-to-face with the Justice League. Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash… they were all there staring at you curiously as you made your way to your lover. Sitting in front of his screed, Bruce didn't even look at you as you rested your hands on his shoulders.

- “So, what can I do for you gorgeous?” You asked, leaning down and smirking.

- “I need your help to deal with Lex Luther. Mind helping us get in one of his warehouses?” Bruce said, showing you the place on the screen. “It’s lead so Superman can look inside and it would be too risky for J’onn if there is fire. But you?”

- “Aye, I can turn into smoke and get in without being noticed. Can do that, but what is there for me?” You asked, turning your head to look at Bruce before kissing the side of his clothed neck. “I am getting hungry, been a while since I had a taste of you.”

You had whispered, dropping your voice as low as you could that Bruce would still hear you. You got a chuckle from him as he looked you from the corner of his eyes.

- “Get inside, turn off the security system for us to get in and then I’ll think about it.” Bruce replied, making you scoff.

- “Unfair! I do all the dirty jobs and I don't even know my price?”

- “Let's call it a surprise.”

- “Fine! But just because it's you, precious.”

As you let go of Bruce, allowing him to turn around, you realized that all eyes were on you. Amusement was painted on most faces, but Superman seemed a bit jealous. What a shame, the bat was yours and you didn't share. You smirked before looking back at Bruce.

- “This is Y/N, a close friend of mine. He’s a vampire and will easily get inside Luthor’s warehouse.” Bruce simply said as he got up from his chair.

- “Excuse me, are you telling me mister handsome over here is like Dracula?” The Flash asked, pointing at you with surprise.

- “Yeah, kind of, but harder to kill. I still haven't found a way yet and trust me, I tried a lot of things.” Bruce replied as you simply laughed.

After that, you accompanied them to the warehouse, travelling with Bruce in his Batmobile. Every excuse was good to spend some time with your favourite vigilante after all and Bruce wasn't complaining.

Dealing with the warehouse was a quick business for you and the Justice League got inside in no time. Bruce was the last one to walk in and you got a quick kiss before anyone else could see it as Bruce thanked you. After all you didn't just stop the security system, but also unarmed all the traps you had found. Some could have been deadly for some of the members, but not anymore.

That night you left with Bruce and went back to his mansion. Robin wasn't there and Alfred was already sleeping when you both got inside. You quickly found your way to Bruce’s bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes for Alfred to pick up in the morning.

You took your time savouring your prize, kissing and caressing every scar on Bruce’s body, from the biggest to the smallest. His body was like a piece of art that you worshipped. Soft moans escaped Bruce each time your lips and fingers brushed a sensible spot, making you smile. You loved the sound of his voice when he let all restrain go. You were addicted to the trust he had in you when he abandoned himself in your hands.

And when you both were done and your hunger had been satisfied, you cradled Bruce against you, caressing his face and body as you watched him fall asleep. You would fight your own sleepiness, wanting to stay awake as long as possible, admiring your lover sleeping and making sure no nightmares would plague him. But you would always lose and fall asleep as well, arms and body wrapped around Bruce as if to shield and protect him from the outside world.

[captainlordauditor]

Cass has had good writing, is the thing. She had a good solo run that ran for six years. She was treated pretty well in Rebirth's Detective Comics and Outsiders. She's had a lot of good oneshots and anthology shorts in the past couple years.

Show me a comic starring Damian and I will show you either a steaming pile of racist shit or a writer desperately working under the constraints of editorial to undo the last steaming pile of racist shit.

Redo of my other poll but with ✨more options✨ (cus it was a 50 50 on weather to add these characters on the other poll but I decided against)

[radioapple-heathen]

My Top 10 📻🍎 'Multi-Chaptered' Fic Recs

(A continuation of my previous post. You can find info about my fic preferences and my top 10 'Series' fic recs here.)

1.) Somewhere down the line by kj_crwn

Complete (6/6). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

So, just like my #1 on my series recs, this fic has Lucifer and Alastor meeting in the living world first before canon takes place while Alastor is still a human, and then reuniting in Hell as the events of canon unfold. Absolutely my fav trope. It helps that the writing is absolutely gorgeous!!! This is such a comfort fic for me, could read it a million times over. It looks like the author considered making it a series but, at the time of making this rec list, it is a standalone fic.

2.) Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream by @winterveritas

Complete (2/2). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: AU - Hell. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Really, anything Winter touches is absolute gold, but this fic rocked me to my core. The way this author portrays Lucifer's grief during Alastor's absence, like. I've been reading fic a long, long time. It takes quite a bit to pull tears out of me, but I sobbed while reading this. Don't let that scare you away, this author is allergic to unhappy endings, but the gut punch of emotions, oh my god. Also, for those who love when extensions of the boys come into play, Alastor's shadow and Lucifer's snake have roles as well, and that is a huge headcanon of mine so it was delightful to see it in this. Writing is flawless, prose is gorgeous, dialogue is top-notch. Just agonizingly wonderful, beginning to end.

3.) Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before The Next Angelic War by @miribalis

Complete (8/8). Rated T+. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: I, like many others, stumbled across this fic due to this beautiful fanart and god. This fic is SO INCREDIBLE. The dynamics between the boys are everything????? This is a QPR take on them, and it's beautiful? Just gorgeous in every way, from the writing to the characterizations and the non-sexual intimacy exploration. ALLLLL the love for this fic.

4.) Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple

In-Progress (14/15). Rated T+. POV: Switches. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Wow. Just... It's hard to put into words the admiration I have for this author/fic. In such a popular fandom/ship, it can definitely be hard to find a unique take on said popular ship. However, this. THIS. This is one of the most original radioapple fics I've ever had the joy of reading. Beautiful imagery, STUNNING PREMISE, the emotions, the prose, THE RADIOAPPLE BOYS, everything about it is perfect.

5.) The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei

In-Progress (31/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Not sure there are words in the English language to describe how fantastic this fic is. Everything I wanna say feels lacking. This fic has some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read. And it is such a delicious character study on Alastor, the inner workings of that man's mind is just insane. The way syaunei takes such a complex character apart, strand by strand, is truly phenomenal. I mentioned in my fic preferences disclaimer that I lean more towards top!Lucifer, but lemme tell you, this is top!Alastor DONE RIGHT.

6.) Something in Me Understood by @winterveritas

Complete (8/8). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This was written for radioapple week 2024, and Winter spoiled us rotten with the frequency of updates for this one. Bookstore AU but make it sexy? XD I am trying to keep my gushing to a minimal, but really, all of Winter's fics are fantastic. This one also includes some beautiful art. AND AND AND intersex!Lucifer, which again... a weakness for me.

7.) Awake, Arise by iffervescent

Complete (14/14). Rated E. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

HOLY PLOT! As I mentioned in my previous post, I definitely prefer more romance vs heavy plot in my fanfics, but when a fic can balance them both as experty as this one HO BOY! It makes for truly a good time! 🙏 Fantastic fic!

8.) Passing Ships by @selphhelp, @androidwiththeparanoid

In-Progress. (7/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human/Great Gatsby inspo. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Please envision this gif of the man screaming "Let me tell you something! Let me tell you something!" as I ramble about this fic because its a fucking gem, and it is so so so criminally underrated. I know its niche, but I think people assume you need to know about The Great Gatsby to read/enjoy it. YOU DON'T. I'm telling you, I remember ZERO about that book, and this fic has been an absolute delight??? Yandere!Alastor??? Vox's One-Sided Psychosexual Obsession with Alastor??? Possessive Lucifer??? IT HAS IT ALL. And the writing and characterizations are superb!

9.) Strange Appetites by Gotllphi

In-Progress. (20/23). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: Extremely graphic depictions of violence.

Notes:

Ho boy. I... I DON'T KNOW WHAT SAY. *gestures vaguely*. ITS JUST GOOD? VERY GOOD?? but also, cannibalism, violence, Alastor being a golly ol' serial killer, consensual but not safe or sane bdsm, etc etc. Also plot galore!

10.) Born for Adversity by fourshadesofgreen

In-Progress. (2/3). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This is a short one, but I love everything this author writes, and the ending scene of chap 2 has been living in my head rent-free since they posted it. Human!Alastor has fallen in love with the Devil and tries to summon him through his killings. Fantastic premise and writing.

❤️❤️❤️

I'll be doing one more rec list for oneshots! I'll post it in a few days. I hope you guys are enjoying the recs!

[proposalanonaita]

FINE.

The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.

Ugh.

I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).

All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.

With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.

I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.

He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.

...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

So.

The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.

For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.

And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.

He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.

It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.

He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.

I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.

I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.

He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.

I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.

[thydungeongal]

Hi, same anon obsessed with morality.

Okay, I admit that my ask was a bit too emotional because non-evil original roleplaying games exist even in sword and sorcery style (World of Dungeons and Oracle are some I would recommend), and existence of Gondal setting testifies that it's not a male thing in any way.

However, my probably naive concern goes a little further - I don't play D&D, but I use it for monsters and settings. It's hard to invent absolutely everything from a scratch, you know? But this leads to an ethical concern I have - doing this is still feeding into D&D hegemony and embracing Gygax's and Arneson's rotten legacy (though I am starting to think that Gygax was a lesser evil, holy fuck). And let's not fool ourselves here - derivative games like Pathfinder or Knave are still their legacy (though maybe Cairn isn't, I am not sure).

So like, what are options of games that are generic fantasy that have a lot of monsters and settings to steal and that are also both not "D&D but different" and aren't objectively evil?

I know literally a handful of candidates, so I am asking your followers to share. And no, Warhammer isn't such game.

What I remember is:

Fantasy Age is not without a sin, but it's presented as "you can depict these demi-humans as equal people or you can be a hitler, it's up to you", so progress I guess?

Jackals is built on OpenQuest and is pretty generic if you exclude it being about bronze age, but I remember some potentially creepy details of how it treats demi-humans

Blue Rose looks the most morally fine, but it's not exactly generic

Lightmaster is ugh, because it doesn't have inherently evil demi-humans, but it has inherently different demi-humans who are always savages, so it's a thin ice (though otherwise it's a blast)

D6 Fantasy doesn't really have monsters in core book, but there are probably third-party bestiaries that may even not be vile

GURPS does have bestiaries of fantasy creatures, but I don't know anything about their morality

IDK about rolemaster, but you said that it's not good.

So like, which extremely ethical non-OSR heartbreaker that was published ever am I missing? Should I look into Das Schwarze Auge, or does it suck the same way?

Ultimately I think you're thinking about this too much to your own detriment. It's good to be aware of the fact that lots of (especially older) fantasy stuff does carry some fucked up expectations and approach it with a critical eye so you don't end up replicating it, but if you become single-minded in your pursuit of the perfect, unproblematic fantasy RPG you're not only setting yourself up for disappointment but also denying yourself a lot of stuff that's good but flawed.

Anyway, not a game but a supplement for OSR games, but Skerples' Monster Overhaul is pretty good in this regard and does this via simply accepting the revolutionary paradigm of "orcs are just some guys."

Another game out of the left field, Chivalry & Sorcery is really surprising in this regard, because it's the sort of game that gives off vibes of being written by "the presence of women in a medieval setting is extremely inaccurate" types, but the authors actually make a point of saying that player enjoyment and comfort should always take precedence over adherence to historicity when it comes to issues like players wanting to play women or queer characters. But it's in its treatment of orcs and trolls (and as far as I've understood, dwarves and elves too, but I haven't read that supplement yet) where it gets really cooking. Chivalry & Sorcery is a game written by medieval history nerds and they wanted their game's worldbuilding to adhere to a medieval European paradigm. So when it came to adding orcs into the game the authors asked "how would orcs fit into the worldview of a medieval Christian?"

The answer is that just as medieval Christian philosophers mused that if cynocephali or those guys who only had one big foot were to exist then surely they must be just some guys, orcs would also have to be just some guys. This means that they would be human in terms of having been created by God and tracing descent to Adam and Eve and also could receive the eucharist and be saved.

Anyway, all of which is to say that the middle ages were woke,

[tsunamiscale]

Hello everyone I'm back for another round of "Things about the httyd books that make me feral". this time, quotes! (with occassional commentary). Only have ones for books 1-8 right now, the rest will be up Eventually

"We're all snatching precious moments from the peaceful jaws of time."

"Listen," said Hiccup, happily, just before passing out. "The supper is singing."

And I bend my head, not too close, and I am sure I can just hear very, very faintly:

Once I set the sea alight

with a single fiery breath….

Once I was so mighty that I thought

my name was Death….

Sing out loud until you're eaten,

song of melancholy bliss,

For the mighty and the middling

all shall come to THIS….

The Supper is still singing.

"I'm rotten to the core and I like being rotten. The treasure has got me and I like being got." (love this one it sums up Alvin so well)

"But then if Hiccup had been a traditional Hooligan Hero, he would have been dead as a kipper several books ago."

"There were heroes when I was a Boy" (the callback to there were dragons is so good)

"Stories come from somewhere," said the witch. "The past haunts the present in more ways than we realize." (our first hints into how important cycles are to the story)

"It was the second time Grimbeard the Ghastly had tried to kill his son. And this time he succeeded" (this one does things to me. the resigned tone alone is enough but oh man the context of the witches story added on?)

"I should warn you, Boy-Who-Has-a-Name-I-Once-Loved, that not a speck of that love remains. Not a jot. Not a whisper. One hundred years of captivity has drained every last drop of that love from me, and I am cured for ever." (This. oh god this. The fact that Furious' love for his brother has ended in believing love is posion? heartbreaking)

“You have to have a heart to make a promise.” Growled the dragon, “And my heart was broken long ago. With the half that is left I'll keep HALF my promise.” (This line is my other favorite, because of how cleverly worded it is. and for Furious to use his broken heart as justification when he thinks love is bad is a whole other concept)

[daybreakerangel]

I am going to discuss about the Hazbin leaks because I can, and I want to think about something that NOTHING to do with the election. This is just me rambling.

Lucifer being a dick to Alastor out of nowhere make me dislike him to bit. Al is just minding his business and Lucifer insecure ass calls him Bambi and shit. I do not even like Al that much and I understand why he said fuck it and quit. I would too.

That song with Rosie and Al has racist lyrics in it with Rosie telling Al to act like a dog and that he is a part of her zoo. I know all the overlords are slave owners but having lines like that referring to a mixed Black character is a CHOICE.

I am TRIED of the bad dads/daddy issues in the Helluva. Every single father minus Millie’s dad are horrible or neglectful people. Lute saying Adam never liked Abel makes me mad. Are you telling me the FATHER of humanity did not give a fuck about his own son? Bullshit. I am fine with Adam being a shitty person to everyone around him but his saving graced should have been his family. He is the first father, I guess his is the root of all daddy issues too. 🙄

Anyway, I am glad Abel is plus size like his father. Adam is the carrier of the fat gene. Lmao. I wonder if people will debate if Abel is or is not fat too! /s

People are thinking that Abel is probably gay given his Santa Claus line in Emily’s Heaven song and Adam’s dislikes of his own son is because he is a homophobe. The idea of this being canon is probably likely. Given his line about finding Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship “hot”, I guess he is the type of homophobe that fetishizes WLW relationships but hates MLM ones.

This is just me thing, but I dislike when homophobia is in Queer media. I just want more queer joy stories than queer people facing bigotry stories. I just Adam maybe was more of a politically Incorrect villain than a politically correct villain.

Adam being a misogynist in Heaven was already weird, but it tracks since Lute was not allowed to be the new leader, misogyny is a part of Heaven’s core values, I guess. Him being a homophobe would be awful; homophobia exists in Hell (for example: Kate Killjoy) but in Heaven too? Queer people cannot escape homophobia even in paradise?

I liked to think Adam came up with exterminations to just let out the anger he felted because of Lucifer basically fucking up his line and to protect the family he still had from Hell’s uprising. Abel not expressing any real emotion when learning that his father was murdered and just saying “RIP” is just sad. If Abel knows his father dislike him, why he is taking up his father's role as the leader?

Adam being a shitty person is fine, but he never cared about his own son. Was he always piece of shit since Eden? BOO!! Bad character writing! Adam becoming morality fucked up makes more sense than "He was trash since the start of his creation!" Are you telling me that Heaven knows Adam is shitty and never corrected that behavior to the point he became a manchild? No wonder no one gave a damn by his death, he was rotten from the start.

Eve is still IMA and same goes for Cain and the rest of his children. I swear when Eve finally makes her appearance and she says that Adam was an abuser, I will start to dislike him.

I am glad that Adam is dead. I really hope that he never comes back, I just feel like his character will go downhill even more. I like the idea of him becoming a sinner as a punishment for all the bullshit he done and that he would never allow to enter Heaven. I wanted Adam to SUFFER. I hope sinner Adam stays in fanon.

Lute's song has a cool instrument, but I wish she had more character out of Adam. I do not really care about her being heartbroken by his death because we did not see their friendship that much, so it does not have that much emotional weight to it.

Adam's rizz levels were off the charts to have Lute loses her mind over HIM out of all people. I like Adam but nah he is not boyfriend material at all. It is nice to a character having a crush on a plus size character, Lute wanted that fat man BADLY. It would have been nice if imagine Adam was maskless. It gives me that vibes that Lute only like him when he had the mask on instead of his actual face.

My relationship with this show is complicated. There is stuff in it I like and stuff I just dislike. The writing of the show being all over the place is fascinating but also awful. If the fandom was not so creative and writes these characters with so much care, I would not be here. I am more a fan of the fanon content than the actual show sometimes.

I feel like when Hazbin ends, it is going to remember in such a negative light and a prime example on how to not write a story or characters.

I feel like I will not be a fan before season 3 airs, I hope that does not happen but yeah. If you see a whole bunch of Hazbin shit being listed on the secondhand market after Season 2 is over, that will probably be me.

[screamingintothestarss]

wildflowers (part ii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x f!reader

chapter rating: gen

chapter warnings: starwars university!au, use of she/her pronouns, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, miscommunication, some angst, almost kissing, sorta cheesy love tropes lol, emotions are complicated

word count: 2.1k

notes: i am so so sorry for the late updates, i’ve had like two projects and an essay due. it’s also midterm week for me! however please enjoy!! ╰(▔∀▔)╯

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You spread the cloth across your face, rubbing at pink blotches of makeup sitting pretty on your cheekbone. You think that maybe if you scrub hard enough, you can wipe away the memory of tonight–of him. 

He was so casual with her, so easygoing and flirtatious, and it left you feeling all soured and rotten. He never flirted with you, never throwing you that sly wink and smile you’d seen him give other women. Would you want that, though? To have another guy lick his lips, eyes gliding along your curvature just to see you as another score? The feeling is like a vibroblade in your gut, twisting and screwing its way into your stomach, spilling out dead butterflies and buried feelings. 

“You almost done?” a tinny voice raps on the door and you jump. 

“No, not really,” you grumble, and you try really hard not to let her have it. You’re already trying not to drown in the murky depths of your emotions, and the last thing you need is your pushy roommate pulling you under.

You take a long hot shower to soothe that ache in your chest, much to her chagrin. 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What's wrong with him?” Wrecker whispers rather poorly in Crosshair's direction. 

“I'd bet it's that girl of his,” he rasps, toothpick bouncing between his lips. Despite the bite in his tone, he can't peel his gaze off of Hunter, those brotherly gears in his head starting to turn. Sure, he'd seen him upset before, like that time he'd cut his hair after losing that bet, or the time he got ghosted by that one girl, but this felt different. It felt like an axe to his chest, hacking away at muscle and bone–it made him hurt. He wished he had the words sometimes, an answer, even, but those circuits weren't wired correctly either. 

Echo's were, however. He always seemed to know what to say and said what needed to be said. He'd cut you open to the core and patch you right back up afterward.

Crosshair taps around on his comm and in no time Echo emerges from his bedroom, adjusting his prosthetic. 

No other words need to be exchanged: it's a silent agreement, an understanding built over years of brotherhood: tight-knit like a warm sweater. 

Echo hums and takes a seat beside Hunter, the leather cushion dipping under his weight. Crosshair and Wrecker quietly clear the room, leaving the two brothers alone.

Hunter doesn't stir, still stuck in the thick fog of your perfume. 

Echo gives him a once over before speaking up; "What happened, Sarge?" 

"You know I don't care for that nickname, Echo," he laughs, and it's strained, the soreness in his chest pulling it taught. 

Echo's brow relaxes. At least he wasn't plagued by that all-consuming grief, the kind that leaves you gutted and slack-jawed.

"You went to that party one way and came back another...my guess is it's something to do with her?" He says it rather bluntly, like a heavy box falling onto the ground with a thunk.

Hunter meets his eyes and nods. His jaw circles, and he clicks his tongue.

"She saw me with someone else," he breathes, "It wasn't...it wasn't like that."

Echo nods, understanding melting onto a stony expression. Hunter didn't need to explain anything further, never with him.

"A miscommunication, then. But I'm guessing she wasn't up for talking about it, eh?" 

"No. She wasn't." It's flat and grainy between his teeth, but there's a buried longing there; he just needed to sift through the sand. 

But maybe you didn't want to be found.

Maybe he should keep you buried, letting granules of sand and dust fill in the cracks of what could've been.

What the hell was he thinking?

Echo sees him falling into his thoughts–dark, deep, and treacherous; but his next words reach out to catch him. 

"Do you like her?"

Hunter pauses and hits the replay button on his memory. …Do I like her?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Quadratics are pretty simple," you explain, "First, you want everything in standard form, then you need to plug in all your variables and-" you pause, meeting the brown-grey eyes boring into yours. 

"Are you even listening?" Your voice is like spice to his ears, and he doesn't think it's an addiction he wants to shake. 

"I'm always listening to you," he says cooly, and you can't pinpoint what's behind his eyes. It makes your stomach recoil nonetheless. You blow, holding your head down so he can't see the red and pink hues bleeding onto your cheeks. 

He definitely notices.

How couldn't he? 

He's unconsciously mapping your features, scrawling them onto some blank page in his memory. Truth be told, Tech had already taught him everything he needed to know about mathematics, piercing that thick skull of his. But Hunter allowed himself to admit that he simply wanted to spend more time with you, emptying what he could and letting you fill in the rest: all flowery and saccharine-sweet. 

He lets himself slip away for a moment, getting lost in that hazy scent you're always wearing. It's funny; he wasn't one for perfumes or smells in general, but something about yours had him inebriated, stumbling over formulas and equations. You meet each other's eyes, hues swirling together like paints on a palette, and he's tempted to create something beautiful.

He leans in closer to you, sealing in that distance that's been driving him up the walls. Like that evening at the dinner table, you're both magnetized, unable to pull away, and you're about to seal the deal when-

“Hey, I think I reserved this room?” a sharp voice sounds, cutting through the line keeping you both tethered.

“Sorry!”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“I like the way these ones glow,” you say, eyeing a beautiful array of bouquets and arrangements. You and Hunter are stopped in front of a flower shop, its colorful exterior bouncing with pretty plants from all over the galaxy���some of these colors you swore you’ve never even seen before. An elderly Pantoran woman exits the shop, the door sliding open with a ding! 

“Looking for anything in particular?” she squeaks, her voice small and frail much like her stature. 

You peer at her and shake your head kindly, “No thank you, we’re just looking.”

“Nonsense! There’s plenty more to look at inside!” Her veiny blue hand tugs at your arm, pulling you through the door, and you look back at Hunter whose expression is a mix of amusement and…nervousness? He trails behind you both, hands tucked into a red and black letterman jacket.

You ooo and ahh at the various arrangements decorating the shop, but one in particular catches your eye. Sharp for her old age, the woman’s eyes sparkle as she follows your gaze, and then she’s got that iron grip on your arm again, whisking you away to the back of the shop. 

You’d never seen anything like this before. The arrangement is nothing short of gorgeous; dark blues, violets, pinks, whites–a myriad of hues that has you clutching your heart. Its bioluminescent glow reflects in the whites of your eyes like shooting stars, and Hunter watches planetside, transfixed on how your features are framed in the underglow. 

He doesn’t know what to make of the feeling settling in his stomach, all warm and sweet and comforting. He’s staring at you, and he can’t help but to think of that one painting in that art gallery you dragged him to: what was it, again? It was really, really colorful…like…like a field of-

“Felucian wildflowers!” The woman tells you, her wrinkly smile edging ear to ear. 

“They’re beautiful,” you sigh.

“Yeah…” Hunter breathes, paying no mind to the flowers adorning your frame. “Beautiful.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What!?”

You’re laughing, a mix of amusement and disbelief that has Hunter fiending–a line under the ocean’s surface, he’ll keep reeling you in until it snaps. 

He scoffs, “Don’t believe me?”

You psh, your frame lazily laid out on the hood of his speeder. “I’m supposed to believe you and Tech used to drag race?”

He mimics you, getting cozy on the hood before looking back at you. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You meet his eyes and try really hard not to get lost in brown and grey hues, afraid you might never find your way out again. You’re staring at each other, laid out under a starry sky and the white glow of the moon. It’s as if the light is cradling you, he thinks, holding you with the same adoration he’d give a piece of himself for.

“I believe you,” you speak up, and it’s breathless, the heat of want wafting through your lips. 

“Okay.” It’s all he says before moving closer to you, head all stuffy as calloused hand reaches out for soft skin to-

The chiming of his comlink yanks him straight back into the parking lot, met with a low groan and your giggling.

He does little to hold back his eye-roll as Wrecker materializes onto the comm, his blue figure fizzing in and out.

“Sarge!” The cheerful nonchalance in his tone relaxes Hunter a bit; at least he didn’t start another kitchen fire. 

“Yeah?” 

“We're about to start movie night! You comin’?”

Hunter internally curses; he'd been too wrapped up in everything you that movie night had completely slipped his mind. He knew Omega wouldn't want to start without him, and the thought of her waiting up for him pricked at his skin like thorns.

“We're on our way-” The words slip from his lips before he can catch them, and his eyes flit towards your frame.

“Huh? Who's ‘we’?” Wrecker raises a thick brow, slowly putting the pieces together. “Haw! You're with your girlfrie-!”

Hunter closes the channel.

An awkward laugh stumbles through your lips, rolling around in the tension. You try to keep a cool facade, a blank canvas that he won't be able to paint on, but the way you're fidgeting gives him a few colors to start with.

You're reeling, brain jumping around in your skull trying to find somewhere safe to land; We're on our way.

Four simple words, yet they hold the weight of a thousand stars. We–us. Is that what he thought of you? As a part of him? A cog and screw working together to power this machine of fondness creeping up between you two? It has you feeling so secure and tender, yet terrified. 

You start to remember the shameless looks and wandering eyes tearing him apart on campus, and it leaves you feeling sick. 

Your thoughts wander into someplace creaky and dark, grimy and lifeless. All that sweet heat you'd just felt is swept away by the brittle winds of doubt. 

You remember how close she got to him on the desk, running a hand over his shoulder like you weren't sitting right there. 

Sick

You remember the one who'd throw her hair back, trying to pry his attention from you. They'd been…involved before, and you remember having to suppress that anger boiling in your gut.

Sick, sick, sick

You don't know how to feel or what to think. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt, assume his intentions are pure, and you know they are, but it's why you're so confused. That fear creeps up your neck, and you try to shoo it away. 

“Did you want to come?” He’s asking you, and it pulls you from the muck–but you're still covered in that grime. 

“No, I'm okay,” you breathe, and it’s heavy; weighed down by spindles and thorn branches.

He doesn't press you any further, but he's worried. Did Wrecker's words scare you off? Was he sitting too close? Was…was it something you'd want? His head’s spinning, caught in the hamster wheel of conflicting emotions. 

He could finalize it right now if he wanted: confess to you what you've already etched on the foundations of his heart, slaying that beast of confusion. 

But he can't risk it.

So he plays it safe.

“My frat's throwing a party on the first…I'd like it if you could be there.” He regains that cool huskiness in his voice, and it's got you hot all over again.

You breathe, and try not to let those chilly winds blow you into oblivion. You decide to face toward the sun and give into that warmth; that of trust.

“Okay.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Hunter?”

He bristles, and the lenses in his eyes adjust their focus, finding Echo’s concerned expression.

“Sorry Echo, I-”

“Do you like her?” He repeats, his tone less weighty this time.

Hunter exhales, briefly looking away. He knows they both know the answer; he may as well have tattooed it next to the skull on his face. Saying it out loud seemed so final: like ink to a page, there was no room for error–no eraser to smudge the truth away. But that’s exactly what it was: the truth. And Hunter wouldn’t lie to you.

“I love her.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

–

–

–

–

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You toss another can in the bin. The kitchen is littered with your mother’s addiction. Vodka bottles line the counter and beer cans sit in piles on the tile. In some, you find the putrid remnants of forgotten mouthfuls. You rinse them over the sink and fling them over your shoulder, listening to them land in the tall container.

The house rankles with neglect. The walls are layered in filth, the floor is unswept, and the couch is dingy. You shake your head and mutter. 

You’re reminded of the teen girl who trod through her mother’s mess every day on her way to the front door, her room her fortress; the only space she could claim as her own. That sacred stronghold she kept spotless in a measly grasp for an ounce of control. 

You drop another can in the sink and back away. You shake the stale dregs from your fingers and flee without a second thought. You stumble out onto the shady porch and gulp in air. Fresh, fertile, and free.

You sit on the highest step and hang your head. Your eyes flick over to the basket of flowers. Your foot twitches, wanting to kick it into the dirt. You sigh and tilt your chin up.

You’re sad but not for your mother. You know you should be. No one else will mourn her. They’ll all whisper about how she wallowed in her filth, how she died lonely and abandoned. But they won’t care. They won’t grieve her.

Neither will you. What they don’t say behind their hands is that she was rotten with the liquor. Bitter to the core. The bottle was her shield and her weapon. Her excuse to be what she was. Vile and venomous.

You don’t miss her, you pity her. You stand and face the house, your eyes tinge as you glare at the screen door. Splinters fill the dents in the frame and rust recedes from the hinges. The birds chirp louder and louder and all at once, the world is quiet.

Paralysed, you watch yourself run up the stairs and stop before the door. Twenty years younger but just as broken. Your shadow listens with her ear tilted. A man’s voice rumbles from inside and your mother croaks in return.

“She’ll be home soon,” she says before she sucks on the neck of the bottle, a loud glug bubbling from its depths. “Plain but quiet.”

Your lip trembles and you falter as if you’ve been struck. The teen girl turns to face you, she’s about to run but the door opens and she’s caught. 

“There you are,” your mother’s voice chafes in her throat, “we got company–”

You lunge forward to grab the girl before she’s dragged inside. It’s too late. Your knee hits the step and you shudder. How cruel were those village gossips, to warble about the girl but they never said a cross word about their own husbands.

Your stomach fills with bile as you push yourself to your feet. You won’t go inside. Not this time. You turn away and heave, swiping the tears from your eyes. You swear you can hear the girl screaming and sobbing as you walk away. Just like all the others who ignored her.

Your feet carry you without a destination. Water trickles noisily and lures you in. You sit on the overturned tree and watch the ripples lap over pointed rocks. 

You should burn the place down. A pile of ash is worth more than those stained walls. You look down at your hands and shake them out, as if you can shed the memories like snake skin.

Only one person heard that girl. Just the one but he turned out just the same. It was never empathy, only a trick.

Forget him. Forget all of it. You sat in that room, across from that doctor, and you did just that. You’re not going to let it back in.

A twig snaps and you sit straight, breath hitching as you search the shadows between the trees. The sunlight flickers through the leaves and the water reflects the world in warped lines. You stand and go to the river’s edge, looking down at yourself. Not a girl anymore, just a tarnished woman.

“Somehow,” the slither jars you but doesn’t surprise you, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You don’t answer him. You know that’s what he wants. For you to shake, to shriek, to do what you did then. To grovel for him to stop, to go away. Just there, on the riverbed, pebbles jabbing into your stomach, your face soaked with the cold water.

“Offer still stands.”

“I don’t want your money,” you say to his rippled reflection.

“Mm, but we both know you need it.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you sneer, “you never did.”

He snorts, “I know a lot about you. I know how you feel, I know how you whine and beg and–”

“Are you so pathetic? You cling to the past like some desperate old man. This isn’t high school–”

“No, it isn’t,” he agrees, “yet here we are and hardly a thing has changed,” Loki struts along the river to its narrowest breadth and steps across, “you are still nothing, and I am still me.”

“A big fish in a tiny, dried up pond,” you spit as you sidle away from him.

“I am the same shark–”

You bend and grab a sharp rock. It’s big and thick and just holding it cuts into your hand. You spin and whip it in his direction. It just misses his shoulder as he sidesteps, plunging a foot into the riverbed. He snarls and kicks his shoe up, shaking it like a wet cat.

“Why would you do that?” He hisses.

“I’ll do it again,” you bend to take another stone, “I will bash your fucking face in.”

“Whooo,” he whistles and snickers as he crosses his arms nonchalantly, “she’s found her voice.”

“Fuck you,” you grip the stone and rear back your arm, “I won’t miss again.”

He tilts his head and his nostrils flare. His snakish eyes narrow and he clucks, “neither will I.”

You stand, locked in stalemate, waiting for the other to crack. He drops his arms, hands on his hips as he raises his chin defiantly.

“I waited twenty years,” he snarls, “what’s a little longer?”

He twists on his heel and hops over the river. You squeeze the rock as you watch him stride away. Arrogant and assured. You fling the rock and it bounces on the ground after his heels. He doesn’t look back as he disappears into the forest.

The beast might hide to lick his wounds, but he always comes back.

[thedemoninme141]

Blade of Miquella Chapter 1: From Woe to Wonder.

My first ever Wednesday Addams X Female Reader fic! Hope you guys like it and early apologies if you don’t find it enjoyable! If you do like it, please leave a review and let me know if you'd want more!

I am Malenia Blade of Miquella,

And I've never known defeat.

Sounds of swords clashing,  the sickening noise of flesh being sliced, and the crimson spray of blood splattering in all directions.

This woman, her eyes.. rotten. Her skin, a deathly pallor, appeared even whiter than the brightest sun. And cascading down her shoulders was her hair, a deep, vibrant shade of red that resembled the color of fresh blood

"I dreamt for so long. My flesh was dull gold... and my blood, rotted."

You jumped up. That same dream again. They stopped a few months ago when you trained your brain so hard to forget HER. Focus on your own happiness, focus on how much your brother loves you, how he fought his own father to keep you safe. That used to fix it... for a few times. Until Wednesday happened.

You kept your demon inside you as you lived. Focusing more on whatever happy moments you get in your life

Trying to forget the traumas

The memories of that dreadful night are fragments, mere flashes that haunt your mind. One moment, your mother's gentle voice was lulling you to sleep with a bedtime story, the next, your mother was lying lifeless in front of you, She smelled like a beautiful flower, The scarlet rot had tainted her once-vibrant skin with crimson flowers, a haunting juxtaposition of beauty and decay.

Your father came with his shotgun.

"Demon." he cursed, pointing the weapon at you, and you closed your eyes, bracing for the worst. The deafening shot echoed in your ears, mingling with the agonizing scream that followed. When you dared to open your eyes again, you were met with a chilling sight: your brother, bloodied knife in hand, defending you against your own father's aggression.

"Miquella." You heard a woman's voice inside your mind.

"John, son, she killed your mother." your father said.

"It wasn't her..." John whispered before picking you up.

Your brother had already called the police. Your father was arrested and... framed as your mother's murderer. Your brother didn't defend him, you wanted to, but he didn't let you. He had to protect you. That is also why he has to leave you...

"It's all my fault... John.. I." Your brother didn't let you finish the sentence, He hugged you.

"No. It's not your fault. I promised Mom I would take care of you, I promised her I would find whatever the solution is to your condition. Until then... Miss Weems will take care of you."

That is how he left, he had to join the army to get to the places he needed to go, for you, to find anything... anything to get you rid of this curse. He comes to visit you from time to time, he found an ancient book, that had some answers to your questions, and he also found a dress, the dress of the woman you kept seeing in your dream. Then next year, he brought her helmet "Winged helmet made of unalloyed gold.", and next her sword, which wasn't exactly a sword as it was connected with a gauntlet, the sword was however was majestic. "A handblade," he said.

As he prepared for his next journey, his words pierced your heart with a bittersweet plea. "I don't know if I would be able to return from my next journey. I will try my hardest to come back, but I need you to be ready. If any danger finds its way to you, I need you to be brave." Those words were etched into your soul, a constant reminder of the weight you carried in his absence.

Two long years passed without any contact, and the ache of missing him gnawed at your very core. The isolation only deepened, as you feared your uncontrollable powers might hurt those around you, including potential friends. Though Larissa, ever watchful, occasionally checked in on you, the fear of inadvertently causing harm kept you from truly connecting with anyone.

The weeks after your brother's departure were a haze of self-imposed seclusion. Consumed by guilt and an overwhelming sense of responsibility for his safety, you found solace only in the walls of your room. Classes became a mere means to an end, a path that led you back to the confines of your solitude.

Over the course of those two years, amidst the solitude, a glimmer of light emerged in the form of an unexpected friend, Xavier.  He always found you odd, wearing a pair of gloves, never talking to anyone. Determined to draw you out from the shadows, Xavier persistently sought to impress you. Leading you to his secret art shack, You didn't want to follow him at first, but after a thousand requests and pleadings, you finally did. When you were there, you were mesmerized by the boy's creativity.

"Why did you bring me here? It's your secret place, isn't it? Why are you showing it to me?"

"Because I want you to trust me, just as you can keep a secret, so can I. You don't have to be alone, you know? I myself am very isolated too. Maybe we can be friends."

That is how the 14-year-old befriended you.

That's how the pleasant memories were created, you slowly opened up to Xavier as he promised you not to tell anyone what your powers were. That's how he ended up in your room. He was captivated by the way the armor that belonged to her looked. It was exhibited in your room elegantly in a glass box, your brother bought an armor stand and kept it neat and clean, as a peace offering to your inner demon, which seemed to keep her at bay. He read the book that your brother brought. It scared him, but not enough to push you away, instead, he felt remorse for the burdens you carried. But he knew you needed memories to focus on so that the demon inside you, would always remain inside. So even if befriending the "shy weird kid" resulted in being ridiculed by others, he is willing to do that.

So these two years weren't that bad, you really put your emotions in control, as well as your powers. You were finally free from the gloves, You were able to touch people without hurting them. The dreams weren't exactly gone, however, they were rare now. You still didn't have many friends except Xavier, Enid sometimes talked to you. But still, you were the outcast of the outcasts. Until Wednesday Addams arrived...

There were rumors about murders in the woods, possibly bear attacks... Then you overheard Wednesday recounting a chilling tale of a monstrous entity to Larissa and the sheriff after Rowan's mysterious disappearance. However, to your surprise, he returned unscathed just as Wednesday was narrating his death. A peculiar unease gnawed at your mind—did she lie? Your logical brain suggested so, but deep down, your heart already had known that there are things that don't have any explanation at all.  But you chose to stay away from this, you had your own problems to worry about. Problems that are much much more destructible than a monster in the woods. You had to take care of that.

That's how Wednesday first saw you, in Larissa's office.

"I'll be keeping my eye on you. No doubt you'll find something that tickles your fancy."

"The last person who tickled me lost a finger."

She walked away just as you entered, not even giving you a single glance as if you were invisible.

But she stopped when you started talking to Weems.

"Larissa, Ms Thornil said you wanted to talk to me."

"Larissa"? You call her by her name, hmm... Since Weems isn't willing to let any information slide, perhaps you could. So she decided to listen to the conversation hiding beside the door,

"I have heard you have made quite some progress in class, your grades have increased significantly. The dark circles that used to reside under your eyes are now gone, I suppose you are getting sound sleep now?"

"Yeah, I guess. The nightmares are a rare event for me now."

"Good, so how are things with Mr Thorpe?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I noticed you spend quite a lot of time with the artist. I can't help wondering if..."

"No.. no... I mean, he's brilliant, and we are friends, I mean he is my only friend. But No."

"Forgive me. I was just being curious."

"What did you want to ask me, Larissa?"

She sighed. "Right..so.. this box arrived on my doorstep yesterday. However, it was not for me, it was for you."

"For me? Who sent it? Was it John?" you asked hoping to finally get any news on your brother.

"I don’t know. There was no name. I however had to open it... because I.."

"Larissa. It's okay. I understand; you had to be sure if it was safe for me." You've always known her. She and your brother always wanted the best for you.

She smiled.

She opened it and gave the box to you.

A broken gold needle, Snapped in half.

"I don't know what this is."

"Neither do I, but it is related to you. Do you want to keep it along with your other artefacts? Or should I keep it safe somewhere else?"

You felt this feeling that you knew from your childhood as you looked at the needle.

Fear.

"Keep it to yourself for now. I should not touch it until I actually know the use of it."

"Okay Y/N"

"So "Y/n" that's what your name is," Wednesday thinks she might have the perfect use for you in her life as she makes a brilliant plan to solve the mysteries of Nevermore. PART 2- 👉 HERE

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Thank you sooo much for your lovely response to my long ask a couple of days ago!!! I really do agree with you wholeheartedly (especially about Scar's post-Briggs characterisation), and something that irritates me about my fellow mangahood fans is that they love the complications in the plot introduced by the reveal that Scar killed Winry's parents (immediately after his own family died in an alchemical explosion + experiencing the world's most traumatic arm replacement).

I get that the point of having Winry confront Scar and point the gun at him is to make Scar reflect on their shared wrath...but I don't it's remotely comparable fhsjfjdj

Like yes it's tragic that the Rockbells died, but unless I am hallucinating they were fairly confident that the military wouldn't have actually killed them because they were Amestrians and thus why they continued to treat Ishvalans in their field hospital even after they had been warned. Now I think it would have actually been interesting if they were then later killed by the military that they trusted to spare them because of their Amestrian blood!

And then the Elrics + Winry having to deal with the fact that the institution they respect/work for/interact with is the same institution that killed the Rockbells - something mangahood treats like an unforgivable sin when Roy "War Criminal Extraordinaire" Mustang and Kimblee™️ are right there😭😭😭 They even show us the military scheming to kill the Rockbells, and then Arakawa has Scar do it at his most unstable to make a point about The Cycle of Hatred from a man whose pain is the most justified😭

And not to be petty but Ed's line about how Winry's hands were made for saving lives and the fact that her parents are doctors - Scar was a warrior monk whose hands also saved lives because he defended his people; and in fact that scene in the manga when he said he had nothing left to protect so he will instead live for vengeance went hard and is soooo indicative of his character😩

Unlike the war criminals and their accomplices, Scar's primary motivation throughout the genocide was to protect his people! And when they were slaughtered and their homes destroyed, that motivation developed into vengeance for his people! And I actually think it's quite powerful that Scar is willing to sacrifice his own peace of mind and the integrity of his soul by using alchemy - it's the fact that he is willing to kill the living to prove that the dead did not deserve it!

He is in fact the consequences of the rotten core that is the foundation of Amestris! So why do brohood fans insist on acting like it's his responsibility to end the cycle of hatred when the Amestrians were the first to pull the trigger? What's he supposed to do? How is he meant to continue living when everything was taken from him?

If we had even just a couple of scenes showing more of the Ishvalan perspective; like tell me more about the Ishvalan who refused treatment from Uriy Rockbell because Amestrians killed his father or the Ishvalan man in the desert mutilated by Roy's flames - there should be more angry Ishvalans in the series, and I think the Elric brothers (and fuck it Miles also - we saw an Ishvalan slum in North City) interact with them and deal with the horror that their nation inflicted upon the Ishvalans for no reason other than to serve the rotten core of the nation - Father & co.

But nooooo let's act like Scar killing the Rockbells is comparable and actually worse than the Ishvalan genocide🙄

(I am SO SORRY I just had to rant because I saw an annoying mangahood fan praise Scar's "redemption" arc when he doesn't need one😭 I even like that he got to return to his homeland and even reclaim his pre-genocide identity, but it should have been achieved through actual mutual understanding instead of my babygirl giving in to Arakawa's politics🗿 I know he's depressed and unhappy but to make his sudden cooperation realistic Arakawa should have has characters like Elric brothers and Miles should have done more reflecting on their complicity with the institution instead of bailing out of a difficult plotline)

Haha, no need to apologize for the rant! I'm right there with ya. The way Winry and the Rockbells get inserted into Scar's story feels so precisely calculated in order to both equivocate the violence of genociders with the violence of the oppressed, as well as (more directly) knocking Scar down himself.

[Long analysis after the readmore]

It's a perfect example of this method of narrative framing:

All anyone can focus on is Scar and the Rockbells, and that's by design, particularly with the 2009 anime adaptation.

For anyone paying attention to Scar's backstory with an anti-imperialist lens, it's clear he has correctly assessed who his enemies are and what to do about them. He's right to despise and destroy state alchemists and soldiers. And in order to "muddy" his position, Arakawa threw the Rockbells into the mix.

Again, with an anti-colonial, anti-imperialist framework this wrinkle to his backstory doesn't change shit. He is in the right to kill members of the militia. An accident doesn't erase the system of power that enacts imperial aggression. An accident doesn't negate a need for direct violence against a genocidal entity. Unfortunately Arakawa, the team at Studio Bones behind the Brotherhood anime, and the majority of people who watch Broho or read the manga don't see things this way.

Now I haven't read the manga myself, but as you've mentioned the Rockbells did seem to acknowledge the very real risk of death that can befall them while working in a war zone. Correct me if I'm wrong (and I may very well be) but don't they leave a letter behind in the manga, imploring that no one blame any Ishvalans who may instead harm them? Take this with a grain of salt, as I'm working off of a recollection of a post from someone who did read the source material. If I'm in the right ball park here, then Brotherhood cutting this from the story is an even more blatant attempt to tar Scar with a level of villainy (a trite description for the topic of genocide, even a fictional one) as the Amestrian war criminals.

Except the Amestrian war criminals are not seen as villains. The only ones characterized as villains for committing this (and other) genocide(s) are the homunculi, Bradley's council, and Kimblee. Following orders apparently is wholly excusable, even for a voluntary military. Both the "pain" and "anguish" of these 'do-gooder' genocidaires and Winry herself are elevated to near-martyrdom status in Brotherhood. Winry's parents especially so, and thus Winry's loss is seen as so poignant, so heartbreaking, that the audience (and Ed) are moved to an almost smug derision of Scar. See? It's the ~cycle of violence~. That's why his actions are ~wrong~. He doesn't parade around an idealism as a form of penance that makes him inspiring like Mustang (I have to laugh), he doesn't bat big doe eyes while looking so mournful like Riza (I have to yawn), he didn't have a lovely cis heterosexual family unit to create or protect like Hughes (please don't acknowledge Scar's family or community, in fact don't inquire about them at all) (also mangahood Hughes. Oh god, mangahood Hughes 😬). No, Scar is a violent man, an 'awful hypocrite", he harbours none of these 'heroic' qualities that everyone defends in the military characters, so therefore stopping him and bringing him to an Amestrian standard of justice is paramount.

The way this scene is constructed, in both the manga and the show is so blatant in its weepy-moralizing. Scar is contrasted as brutish, towering against a white teenage girl's trembling, collapsed position before him. His race cannot be ignored from the composition of this moment. The racism that under-girds the real life bogeymen of the "wanton violence of SWANA men" and the "foreign savage threatening our pure, fair, delicate women and children" is manifested in fma mangahood.

We're supposed to see these young (white) Amestrians as the hope for a reformed nation. (Abolition and decolonization are not vocabulary in the fma ethos. This isn't a unique lack for fma, most media can't be bothered to contend with truly ending a system or a nation that serves as its own sort of protagonist.) The end of ~the cycle~ will be because these golden-hearted white kids will choose pacifism (a useless paradigm when dealing with an aggressive entity). Ed assesses that his military superiors should not be held responsible for the mass destruction and slaughter they rendered with marvellous aplomb, Winry is too good to sully her hands, and Scar is a monster who's hand(s) are, it seems, meant to kill.

This is how we're guided to view things: The soldiers and generals are proud idealists to be respected and aided. Ed is a spunky genius who gets to use the coffers of the state's ill-gotten wealth for himself and his brother, and Winry is a saint who truly lost the most from the Ishval War. The Ishvalans shouldn't have fought the Amestrians, the Ishvalans shouldn't have resisted occupation, the Ishvalans shouldn't have retaliated for the murder of an Ishvalan child, the Ishvalans shouldn't have been where the military took aim. Scar shouldn't have been so human as to be loved, to be saved, to be physically and mentally harmed, to be so thoroughly concussed and delirious (neurologically and psychologically), and he shouldn't have ever hated Amestrians. Then the Rockbells could have returned home to Winry.

(If we throw in the ridiculous speech from Miles, Scar should have also, somehow, joined the military simultaneous to being in their crosshairs as Ishval was torn asunder.)

And that's what the framing, the script, the animation, everything in Brotherhood bellows: Winry is the truest, most blameless victim of the Ishvalan genocide. The death of two white, blond, blue-eyed humanitarian doctors is worth hundreds of thousands of Ishvalans. Where Father and Wrath both see each life worth only that life as a means of efficient resource extraction, and where the philosophy of One is All, All is One is meant to unify the value of each life, we get a much different, more bleak weighing scale from Ed, Scar's arc, and from the in-built bias of the audience: Scar's brother, his neighbours, the web of individuals, communities, and every generation of Ishvalan is worth markedly little in the holy light of the Rockbells and Winry's suffering. Scar's past and present are mere excuses; Winry's past and present are his sins.

This moment is also a tacit ploy to make people think of the families and loved ones of the fascist pigs Scar has already murdered by this point. The implication of those people as a trail of Winrys left in his wake also equivocates the pain of the imperial citizenry and the lives they enjoy thanks to ceaseless land, resource, and human acquisition, with that of the endlessly angry, 'dangerous' Ethnic Other. Surprisingly, given how little tact Brotherhood has as a visual narrative, the anime (thankfully) never outright shows these bereft loved ones from the murdered war criminals. However, it hangs invisibly in this scene with Winry as well as the one in the abandoned mining town in Briggs.

And to make a quick aside: I find it to be in very poor taste that the tragedy of Scar's life is being used to further the romance between Ed and Winry. Just. Please. Who the fuck asked for a brown man's oppression to be the backdrop for the growing passion between white teens??? What in the goddamn, man.

Getting back on track: Brotherhood wants us to see Ishval and Amestris as two equal parties foolishly destroying one another. It's the fallacy of both-sideism and we see the very real deployment of this propaganda every time an imperial power wages its (nowadays proxy) wars. But like real world targets of imperialism, Ishval has every right to fight back. Scar, even with the deaths of these doctors thrown at his feet in an attempt to manufacture a toothless, sanctimonious tale of "two wrongs don't make a right," is still fully in the right to have sought and destroyed the fascist boots that trampled him and his people.

The Rockbells assumed they would be safe from their own nation, and as you said we do get confirmation that the military was going to send someone in to assassinate them for their treachery. Kimblee (because we could never make any of the ""Good guy"" soldiers do this, only the strawman fascist) was given the task. In a twist of fate, Kimblee's assault on Scar indirectly gets that particular job done. I, for one, hate this writing decision. I've talked about it before, but fma 03's choice of making Mustang and Marco the Rockbells' killers is a far better choice for the broader anti-imperialist theme 03 focused so heavily upon. Hell, any serving soldier would have been a better, less nakedly military apologia than Scar. It would better reflect the real world strategies deployed by imperial armies: decimate medical facilities, staff, and humanitarians (including those who are citizens of their own nation state). Arakawa choosing a roundabout path to this outcome, one that vilifies Scar while sparing the ""Good"" reformable soldiers, because it's actually all Kimblee's actions anyway, is a cheap trick.

It drives me nuts that the Elrics and Winry are never truly confronted with the horrors of their nation and its governing institutions. Anytime they get a taste of what makes the military so vile it's coated in a million red herrings about who is "actually" responsible for this wretched state of affairs. It's not that militaries are the violent arm of the state meant to slaughter people and capture/maintain land as property of the state, no! That's the fucked up thinking of Bradley, his council, Father, and Kimblee! Look, our ""Good"" war criminals and soldiers actually ~understands~ that the military exists to protect people! (Which people? And from whom? Shut up, don't ask questions, you're ruining the wholesome idealism here!) With them in charge post-coup, everything will be better! Any harm Amestrians have faced from their own military's invasions is actually the fault of the military's targets: Resembool received collateral damage because Ishvalans fought back! So obviously this is akin to Ishvalan imperialism, right? Both sides? We shouldn't see race? Reverse racism is real? But look, Winry is suffering because Scar is a reverse racist! So it is real!

Everything you said about Scar is 100% on point. It's so good that I'm gonna highlight it here again:

Scar was a warrior monk whose hands also saved lives because he defended his people; and in fact that scene in the manga when he said he had nothing left to protect so he will instead live for vengeance went hard and is soooo indicative of his character Unlike the war criminals and their accomplices, Scar's primary motivation throughout the genocide was to protect his people! And when they were slaughtered and their homes destroyed, that motivation developed into vengeance for his people! And I actually think it's quite powerful that Scar is willing to sacrifice his own peace of mind and the integrity of his soul by using alchemy - it's the fact that he is willing to kill the living to prove that the dead did not deserve it!

What more can I say? This illustrates perfectly what a lot of fans seem to entirely miss or dismiss. And listen, I'll give Arakawa some credit, because she wrote this into his character! She wrote Scar to be more than just Big Bad Hypocrite, and Ed's view of him is in fact wrong. I appreciate that Scar doesn't fall over himself to explain to these Amestrians what happened on his end. But all the same, with other Ishvalans being used to essentially rat Scar out (the ones taking refuge in the ruins of Xerxes), and that there was no sympathy or solidarity given to him by his own people who were there in that makeshift hospital still shows what the primary perspective on Scar should be.

To Arakawa, he is wrong.

The Amestrians rebuke him, his own people (the refugees in Xerxes, his own Master and the refugees within Amestris) rebuke him. Miles rebukes him. Ed, Al, and Winry rebuke him. The Ishvalans rebuke his one-man insurrection on his and their behalf to instead stoke the flames of Ed's righteous animosity towards Scar. Why? Because not all Amestrians. But certainly all Ishvalan rebels. It doesn't matter to Arakawa and Studio Bones' Broho team that Scar's hands were already fighting to save lives; he has to be beaten down and cowed to agree to save Amestrian lives, reformed for Amestris' betterment. This is how he will pay for his "cruelty". Meanwhile the war criminals, sans the leader of the nation and Kimblee, get off scott-free.

A core problem with the ~cycle of violence~ rhetoric is that the buck is almost always passed to the latest victim of violence, particularly if that victim entertains the path of self-defense or retaliation. If you initiate, or are a major player, in that violence then you are practically absolved of your actions and intentions once you create a chain effect of harm. This, in my opinuon, is partly why fans see the responsibility of ending violence to be on Scar's shoulders. Combined with what I discussed regarding the "positive" qualities of our protag war criminals winning the hearts of audiences; that they are written to be as charming, inspiring, and pitiable as possible, with a sufficient lack of melanin to align with the colourism and racism imbedded in most societies and cultures irl, we end up here. With Scar seen by many as a villain/former villain.

Remember, don't argue against pacifism. And don't bother questioning what other routes he could have reasonably taken, because the manga and Brotherhood answers that question!

He should have been living "peacefully" with other Ishvalan refugees in their nice little "peaceful" (slums) settlements. After all, they had no real qualms with their "peaceful" new lives. We're hit over the head time and again by how "content" these refugees are, in spite of the ethnic cleansing and marginalized, hidden existences they suffer. And I scare-quote peaceful because this isn't peace. This is the hegemony of Amestrian "peace" forcing a people it wants fully eradicated to hide and remain quiet for their own safety. So peaceful. But that's what Scar should have done instead! (Or become a fascist to solve fascism, ala Miles' stunning advice.) Brotherhood keeping the majority of Ishvalans as an amorphous monolith, without identities or perspectives, who make do with the hand that's been dealt (it seems like all "violent Ishvalans" were slaughtered in Ishval during the war, since only Scar continues to fight afterwards) means we can digest the Amestrian perspective and internalize it without issue. It's an intentional choice.

Even the manga at least shows Ishvalan dissent a bit better, but it seems to lose any interest in pursuing the perspective of refugees as the plot progresses. A lot of entertainment media can only garner sympathy for victims of genocide so long as they have an innate "pacifism" to their people (this too is racist framing). You can only feel bad if the Indigenous and the racialized are simply too kind hearted and pure to ever raise their hand against the gunmen who fire at them. The narrative can only imagine Scar having the potential to reform into the acquiescent, useful native if we see that most of his people are horrified by any violence against their colonizers. If they're horrified of him, then they and Scar can be forgiven (for being what they are, for being victims whose victimization harmed the soldiers, the Rockbells, and Winry). So what more could the Ishvalan perspective hold in Brotherhood, when that's all that's needed of them to begin with?

I sorely wish we weren't fed such an awful concoction of racist, military-absolving story telling. All major fma media isn't necessarily perfect about consistently handing the mic to different Ishbalans/Ishvalans, but Brotherhood is the absolute worst of the three in this regard. The manga at least has Ishvalans who openly reject Amestris and Amestrians for the atrocities they suffered at their hands, as included in your ask. Brotherhood doesn't even bother with any of that. It's just a spotlight on Scar, and he made Winry an orphan. Not Amestris, not its military, not Father, not Kimblee, but Scar. And to Broho fans, that is the ultimate sin anyone in this series could ever commit.

I'm glad mangahood Scar gets to return to Ishval and rebuild. I'm glad this version of him gets to live, because this continuity has nothing of value to say had it killed him off or prevented him from reconnecting with Ishval. Of course Scar didn't need the "reformed" military to grant him that permission. And he abso-fucking-lutely did not need to earn it via "redemption". Such a crock of shit. To have to earn your homeland by joining the very forces that ruined thousands/millions of lives is one of the most disgusting outcomes of this story. People love his "redemption" because it makes them comfortable about real, heavy matters. It tells them "Their nation, their nationalism, their militarism can be good and healing after all." Fuck off.

Scar deserved infinitely better. Every Ishvalan deserved better than to be a morality lesson about what the oppressed ought to do instead of having a spine. And Winry shouldn't have been a pawn for distracting us from the evils of the military.

--

See, this is why no one should apologize to me about sending me a ranting ask. 😅 I'll take any opportunity to rant x10. And hey, you're always welcome to send long asks! I hope the long reply isn't too frustrating to read through, and I hope I didn't miss any of the great points you made.

Once again, I fully agree with you. Our babygirl being tied up with the Rockbells is straight-up poor storytelling. Mangahood had the potential to not be racist and pro-military about these storybeats, but instead chose to make an example out of the primary brown character.

Any Broho fan who can't handle this critique is weak. Period. But I'm always grateful that there are those like yourself who can handle it AND make that critique themselves!

[Sorry it took some time to reply. I briefly lost this ask after saving my first draft, since apparently tumblr hides ask drafts not at the top of the draft pile, but somewhere in the middle (???)]

[envihellbender]

The Unknown first appearing to five killers of your choice

Rating: Mature (horror)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Characters: The Unknown, the Trapper, the Trickster, the Legion, the Deathslinger, the Pig

The Trapper

“Son?” A voice creaked. “Have I finally found my boy?” Evan snorted with laughter before he turned around, a jack knife in one hand and a bundle of wire in the other.

“You’re not convincing, fella,” he said towards the dark silhouettes of the trees. “My old man wouldn’t ever sound so pleased to see me.” When the figure finally showed itself Evan’s huge figure stumbled backwards in shock. He thought he’d seen everything ever since the Entity took him, but apparently not. In front of him was… well, he didn’t know what it was. It looked like his father if someone had sucked all of the fat from his body, left the skin hanging there and twisted it up like a helter-skelter.

“Ohh… Sorry,” the creature responded, speaking as if it was drowning in its own flesh. Suddenly, it collapsed into a pile of rubbery skin, shards of bone and rotten meat onto the floor. Evan let out a fractured breath and felt his lips turn dry as he stared at it. Before he could react it … inflated. That was the best word for it really. It became something else. A beast that was just as elongated with twisted limbs and neck, but instead it wore a gas mask and filthy overalls.

“Hey there, Mister MacMillan, Sir…” It asked, twisting its head to the right and giggling underneath the mask. “So glad I found you. The mine collapse… It was awful trying down there. Did you get everybody out, Sir?” As it finished speaking its head twisted ninety degrees to the right, its grin widened and then it somehow managed to turn its head even further until it had turned a full circle, twisting its neck even more.

The Trickster

“Hey… hey … hey,” a whispering, screeching voice said appearing beside Ji-Woon as he left the Trial. He didn’t even turn around, blood still dripping from his bat and sinking into his clothes.

“Fans aren’t allowed backstage,” he said coldly with a smirk on his perfectly soft lips.

“I… Sorry… can you help me?” It repeated. Ji-Woon scoffed and turned around, swinging his well-used bat back and forth. When he saw it he swore under his breath, he tilted his head and let out a deranged giggle.

“Now what are you?” He asked as he approached the monster, as he got close he wrinkled his nose. It stank worse than a butcher. “You look like the dokkaebi every aunty back home tells stories about.”

“Don’t you recognise me?” The creature asked, its voice sounded reminiscent of an old window pane in a storm. Ji-Woon sighed a little annoyed but managed to maintain his grin.

“You’re wearing the face of the girl from my fan club. The pig nosed one. She got a private show. Her voice was nice, made a hit single out of it.”

“En…core?” It asked, its teeth splitting through its skin as it smiled.

“She got a front row seat and her singing was on my next single, she died in bliss, her screams showed her devotion to me. And now she’s in front of me asking for more?” Ji-woon cackled. He spun on his heal, he slipped his sunglasses down from his crown to over his eyes despite the dark as he walked away. “Welcome to the Entity’s world dokkaebi. Don’t speak to me again.”

The Legion

“Ex…cuse… me, I… am… lost… late for… work,” a voice said from behind them. Frank was in control of the body at present, he turned round curiously to Joey’s dismay, who bitched at him in the headspace about how he shouldn’t have checked out the source of the noise so readily. The complaining however stopped instantly when they saw what they were being confronted by. Internally they all yelled excitedly, in front of them was a twisted creature wearing the skin of the sheep they slaughtered to be saved by the Entity. Well, more or less. It was stretched almost beyond recognition, with twisted limbs and broken bones sticking out of its skin. They all recognised it instantly, there favourite urban legend was right in front of them. The Unknown.

“Holy shit,” Frank said excitedly to the Legion, he wasn’t speaking externally but the Unknown watched curiously as Frank grinned and his eyes flitted across its body in fascinating.

“Oh my god. It’s so gross. Look at that! That’s so fucking cool,” Joey enthused, he tried to will Frank to touch them with little success. “Dude come on. What do you think it feels like?”

“Joey, don’t be rude, God,” Susie chided him.

“It’s gotta be a skinwalker, right? The thing from the urban legends?” Julie asked, she was the one who was mostly pushing Frank to look at every element of The Unknown’s body analytically. “Maybe we should ask it?” The creature unknowingly interrupted them with a groan as it twisted its head to the right. Frank realised he had to actually say something.

“Hey, hey, hey, sorry, needed to chat about you with these guys,” Frank said happily bounced on his heals tapping his temples with his index and middle finger. The Unknown tried to reply, its mouth open and teeth poking out between his lips but before he could Frank interrupted him. His voice was fast and excited, a response the Unknown did not usually receive. “So, you’re the Unknown, right? We’ve read so much about you. Are you a skinwalker? That’s our theory, skinwalker. Well, that’s the only one we’ve agreed on. Susie is still pitching the idea that you’re a trans dimensional being but then Julie asks how we know skinwalkers aren’t trans dimensional beings but then that gets Susie on a whole mothman Bigfoot thing-"

“You… Are… Many?” The Unknown interrupted. Its eyes widened in wonder as it fell forward onto his hands and feet bending like a spider. Something about the Legion caused them to relax to their natural posture. Frank didn’t seem fazed by it.

“Yeah! Four of us in one body.” His voice as proud, he seemed like a brutal angry thug but the sweeter, softer teenager that the rest of Legion saw sneaked out.

“Four… in one… could I be four at once?” The Unknown’s voice was low and contemplative.

“Oh sure! They’d be amazing.” Frank began pacing in front of the Unknown, his words becoming faster as if they were powering his hyperactive joy. “Okay, so this thing you’ve got as the cleaner we kill, so great. But we hurt more than just him, you know? Maybe you can merge them? We can workshop it.”

Deathslinger

Caleb heard it stalking him ever since he left the trial. It scuttled and giggled as it approached, and Caleb had been followed enough times to know when someone thought they had the better of him. He kept walking the familiar way back to his workshop the Saviour made for him. He pretended he hadn’t a clue he was being followed. That was until he heard the beginning of a croaking, crackling syllable - it was then he spun around. He held up the Redeemer, aiming it upwards from where the noise had come from. When he saw what was in front of him, a strange twisted beast wearing the torn up skin of a man who’s face was ingrained into Caleb’s mind as clear as it had been when he first saw it and when he beat his head into a bloody stew. Henry Bayshore.

Well, it wasn’t quite Henry Bayshore. The creature was far taller, with longer more distorted limbs, and his skin sagged so intensely it flapped as it moved. His torso was twisted so much it was more like a corkscrew than a body. Caleb smirked as he looked at the strange creature, maybe it was one of the changelings his Ma told him all about. Or maybe it was a skinwalker one of the Native American boys in his gang always talked about.

“So… What’re you following me for and why shouldn’t I blow your head from your body again, Mister Bayshore?” Caleb asked, his calloused fingers over the trigger.

“You… would… miss,” a crackling, gnarled voice said. Before Caleb could respond the beast let out a screech and he collapsed into a pile of soft, weeping flesh. It was a pile of raw meat, blood, and viscera by Caleb’s feat, causing him to be more confused than anything else. Before he could full process what was happening, a twisted gnarled finger tapped on his shoulder.

The Pig

“A… man-da?” A familiar croaking voice said. At one point it would’ve been comforting and at another made her body surge with fear. On this occasion it felt as if it made her bones turn to ice and her blood became still. She slowly turned, extremely carefully with her grip on her knife… Because John was dead. John Kramer had died of cancer in front of her eyes. The cold fog was beginning to set in, and as it chilled against her skin she knew that what was in front of her face was not the Entity, it was just as uncertain as she was.

Before her was a twisted parody of John Kramer, the man who had been as good as her dad and who she’d failed just as much as her folks had failed her. He was taller for one thing, Amanda barely came up to his chest. His neck was elongated and twisted around. His face was tilted diagonally, and he smiled. Amanda wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he looked happy at all or that there were far too many teeth piercing through flesh that made him look less like the man.

“Amanda. I … found… you-”

“What the fuck are you?” She interrupted.

“Oh… does this skin not look good … on me?”

“Whatever you are, you’re not fucking convincing okay?”

“Would you like to see my … tumour?” It asked, its neck twisting to the side until its head was completely upside down. Amanda bared her teeth and pulled her pig mask back down, it seemed it was time for a different kind of trial.

[shreddedleopard]

Sherliam-shaped ramble incoming 🥴🥺

Rewatched Morimyu op. 3 for the millionth time and can’t stop thinking about Albert’s words to William about leaving the real Jack The Ripper culprits’ bodies there for Sherlock to find, and how much trust William had in this man despite only having met him a handful of times.

Like he really said ‘you and I are on the same wavelength to the point that I trust you not to fuck up this whole scheme to unite the current discord in London between Whitechapel and the Yard without even exchanging an actual word with you on the subject.’

He must have really felt so … vindicated to have found someone who could take one look at his actions and piece together his real motivations behind his criminal acts. Sherlock quickly paints the Lord of Crime as a ‘Robin Hood’ figure who’s seeking to rebalance their world, and although he can’t forgive the law-breaking methods employed by Liam, he recognises that Liam took on that role and condemned himself for the sake of the common people.

William found someone who could identify the real heart of him, and then he trusted that person with his life — to carry out the real justice to balance out his wrong-doings.

You know, the more I think about it, the more it hurts and the more I love Sherlock. I think for William, the answer to Sherlock’s ‘why me?’ (Why not a perfect actor instead?) is that an actor might see William’s acts but not really understand them in the way Sherlock does, or care to, and that is incredibly important to William.

William knew he had to die because what he was doing was passing judgement in a way he shouldn’t really be allowed to do, in a fair and righteous world, but he has to do it that way in order to make an impact and affect change. But at least let the person who ends his life truly understand why they’re doing it — not because William is rotten and hateful at his core, but actually, filled with love and compassion for others, so much so that he’s willing to become the villain for everyone else’s sake.

I believe it was the last comfort he could hope for — to have his act, his show, his existence brought to an end by an individual who would not hate him or misunderstand him as they ‘pull the trigger.’

He called Sherlock ‘the real devil!’ angrily in their final (and only) fight on the bridge because Sherlock hesitated, and William’s hard-wired view of his own guilt pushed him to think that Sherlock’s moral compass might suddenly be off, and he lacked the conviction to condemn William to death as William believed should be the just and moral end to his plan.

But then he realises that actually, it’s not that Sherlock is weak hearted and unwilling to follow through with the path of justice. What William has underestimated is Sherlock’s own depth of compassion — but compassion for him, specifically. In all his planning, even in his joy at finding Sherlock — a man who would understand his goal and dream and what it might take to bring it to fruition — William had failed to account for the possibility that someone might be moved enough by his sacrifice to want to save him.

The idea that he is as deserving of love as everyone else is not a thought he’s allowed himself to entertain, and he steels his resolve and decides that he will jump himself if Sherlock cannot do it.

But this idea that Liam is an individual hugely deserving of love has been at the forefront of Sherlock’s mind for a long, long time before they faced off on that bridge.

Sherlock sees the role William has taken on — completely by himself. He understands the lonely truth of William’s compassionate and self sacrificing nature beneath the facade, and to this he says, I’m here, I am your friend, and I won’t let you do this by yourself anymore. I won’t let you fall alone.

They are just. Everything. The love is like a physical weight on my chest, I cannot. 😭