#mans just has eerily similar characters!!!

[jawnjendes]

hey i love ben schwartz and i make playlists for some of the roles i really love so here they are

yasper (the afterparty)

clyde oberholt (house of lies)

sonic the hedgehog (,,,,,,)

jean ralphio saperstein (parks n rec)

teddy lobo (renfield)

dewey duck (ducktales)

[jinx-xxed]

Protected

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I love characters protecting their too-stubborn partners

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; Kylo Ren does the worst thing imaginable in order to save you—he forces you off the battlefield.

Content; Angst to fluff, Supreme Leader Kylo, Commander Reader, original characters, bonded to Kylo through the Force, reader gets seriously injured, very protective Kylo, Kylo doesn’t want you to die, Kylo’s scared of losing you, and you’re scared of losing him, mention of Kylo dual wielding after he takes your lightsaber (he’s crazy), battlefield Kylo (my favorite), reader gets sentenced to the infirmary, talking about feelings, cuddling

Wc; 2.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“You can’t do this!”

Your boots slip in the mud as you’re dragged backwards, you struggle against the hands that hold you. Rain pelts your body, drenches the entire battlefield, is illuminated in its fall to the ground by the ship headlights. Your infuriated gaze is stuck on the man before you; dressed in black, form eerily illuminated by the crackling red light of his saber and the blue undertones of the world around you. The silver around the visor in his mask seems to absorb the fluorescent lights of the ship, reflecting them back towards you. His steps sink into the skid marks you’ve left in the mud, walking in front of you in stride with your restrainers.

“Let me go!” You yell, thrashing as best you can, ignoring the screaming agony reverberating through your left side, hisses spat from between your teeth. You try with everything in you to free yourself from the members of your personal fleet that have a hold of you—Eera, Chief, and Rankou—your own comrades being used against you to keep you down. You’d expect your authority over them to work in your favor and for them to release you but considering the order came from Kylo, you’re sorely overruled.

“This is for your own good!” Chief says over the rain and thunderous noise of the battle happening just beyond the mountains that surround you all in this hidden alcove. She grunts as your elbow manages to fly back and hit her side, though her grip doesn’t budge.

“I can still fight! You can’t send me away like this!” You shout. Your captors pause briefly, allowing you to fall to your knees, mud and freezing cold water soaking into your clothes, chilling your war-heated body. Your chest heaves, puffs of your breath visible in the air. Every inhale hurts, every twitch of muscle aches and sends lightning bolts of pain across your limbs.

“I can, and I will.” Kylo says definitively, voice spat through the vocoder within his helmet. “You’re injured and in no state to be on a battlefield.”

“Bullshit, so are you!” You snarl, giving one last thrash of your arms, your strength already weakening. Your anger explodes, and you know he feels it along the bond you share. He can probably taste it in his mouth. It’s like he’s undermining you, underestimating your ability to fight right alongside him. But beyond that, you’re angry at him for making you leave him here alone. This fight is not easy, and it will continue to get harder, and he’s sending you away to deal with it on his own. Sure, he has the soldiers, but they’re just fodder in your eyes. He’s the one your enemies are after, he’s the one at the forefront, he’s the one who takes the brunt of it all. And you’re supposed to be there to be his shield. Sword and shield, that’s what you two are.

His own emotions along the bond come forward to combat yours, clashing in a similar fashion to the way lightsabers might. His are born from concern, for a need to protect you after he saw you be a direct victim of an explosion, after he had to drag your half-concious form off the field while your blood created a trail along the ground.

Your left side remains gaping still, red mixing with the rain and being washed away. It stings, it hurts like hell, but it still hurts less than being forced to leave him.

“Mine are minor. You will die if you stay out here.” He says. His injuries are a few mere scratches and wounds from blasters grazing his arms, nothing nearly as severe as your own. Your struggling has made it worse, torn it further at the edges, caused more blood to spill. He sees as such, and his disapproval is palpable. “You need to leave.”

You begin to get pulled again. The ramp to the ship is less than a foot away. “No! No, no, you can’t! Ren, you bastard!” You scream. You spit, you curse, you snarl—you act like a raging, rabid animal. In your flailing attempts at freedom, your lightsaber comes loose of its place on your belt, audibly falling into the mud. Theres a brief second where everything seems to freeze as your eyes land on it, and so do Kylo’s, his thought process easily following your own. You both go for it at the same time, both reaching out for it desperately with the Force, eager to be the first to grab it. Since it’s your own weapon, naturally it should have more affinity towards you and you feel that invisible grip on it, but in your weakened state, Kylo overpowers you with infuriating ease and it feels like he shoves you aside to take over. He yanks it from your grip as you yell, the metal handle flying into his outstretched hand and well away from you.

“No! Give that back!” You demand. It’s your own damn lightsaber, he has no right-

He clips it onto his belt, safely out of your reach. “I’ll give it back once this is done.” He then closes the distance between you at last, his gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away a raindrop that falls from your eyelashes. He leans forward, presses the cold muzzle of his helmet against your forehead as if to kiss you. His voice is low when he says, “I’ll find you again. I promise.”

You feel a pull against your mind, a tug in the direction you were already heading. It’s supposed to be simple like falling asleep but it feels more like getting the floor ripped out from under you. Kylo uses his ability to lull you into unconsciousness, taking advantage of your waning strength and sucking away more of it to make you less of a difficulty for the rest of them. Darkness swims at the edges of your vision, your body goes slack and your head lolls.

He straightens, looking to the Fleet members who hold you. “Get her on that ship and get her out of here.” His order is final, and then you can just barely see him as he walks away, his black-robed form swimming and blending in with the world around him.

“N-no, no…” Emotion cracks your voice, tears mix with the rain until they’re indistinguishable. You don’t know if the tears are from your own fear or your anger or both. You feel your comrades pull you onto the ship like it’s secondary, like it’s happening to someone who isn’t you. You feel the ramp close and the engines come to life. You feel a final despair as you’re taken into the warm embrace of the darkness.

» ☆ «

The door to your infirmary room opens. It’s followed by the familiar thudding of boots, the swish of a cape, until it all stops and Kylo stands next to your bed. Your back is turned to him, body curled up as best it can be without irritating the wounds wrapped in generous gauze. Your shoulders hunch as you feel him staring, you curl up just a bit tighter. Your stubborn attitude keeps you from facing him, so you ignore him in a futile attempt at pretending he’s not there. It’s an impossible task when his presence is so obvious and imposing, especially when you’re bonded to him.

“Love,” he says after a moment; his helmet is off, his voice clear. He waits another moment, silence stretching between you both. “Look at me.”

As much as you want to keep being stubborn, you can’t ignore the relief you feel at having him there, knowing he’s okay after not seeing him for four days—even if you were unconscious for half of that. You roll over, meeting his gaze at last. His face visibly softens when he can look at you and he sets his helmet that had been tucked under his arm aside. He settles himself on the edge of the bed next to you, making a significant dip that has you sliding closer to him. Kylo reaches forward to brush the backs of his gloved fingers against your cheek, then holding his hand there and leaning to kiss you. It’s gentle and easy against your lips, more of a greeting than anything. He pulls away and his eyes fall towards the bandages covering the entirety of your left side, visible beneath the tank top you wear. A healthy amount of bacta is smeared along the gauze, already fully healing a majority of your injuries.

His attention doesn’t lift from them as he says, “the battle was won.”

“I expected no less.” You reply with nothing but honesty. Your victories are almost always assured, your enemies being no match for the First Order. Though of course, some are harder to win than others.

There’s another silence between you as he idly runs his thumb along the back of your hand. He’s considering his next words, thinking of what to say. You get the general sense of his concentration along your connection, mixed with the colors of muddy blue and purple and gray—colors of uncertainty. “I’m sorry for what I did.” He says finally. An apology was not what you were expecting to hear from him, but it’s welcome nonetheless. Apologies from him are always rare, and it’s clear this one still took him a good amount of effort.

Your chin dips in the slightest hint of a nod, a sigh blowing through your nose. “We’re supposed to be partners. We fight together.” You say. “I could’ve done more.”

His free hand clenches into a fist. “I did what I had to to save you. I was not going to let you die trying to protect me.” He says roughly. “When I saw that explosion hit you I… you have no idea what that did to me. You were barely conscious, I thought that you…” He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching at the memory. You have a faint recollection of the emotion you’d felt from him in that moment, so fierce and clear along the bond that you could still feel it even in your state. He was beyond furious, ready to kill each and every last person who harmed you, to unleash infinite hells upon the enemy forces. But above all, he was scared. He was terrified that he was going to lose you as he watched your blood seep out in a steady stream, mixing with the mud beneath you.

You take his hand into your own, drawing him out of the dark cloud he stuck himself into. “I know. I know you were just protecting me. It’s just hard to accept that when your entire life has been dedicated to being a war commander. You never want to get taken off the field.” His hand is warm, blissfully so against your cold ones. The leather of his gloves is familiar. “Thank you.”

You can tell he’s not sure how to take being thanked, he never has been, so he changes the subject. “How are your injuries?”

“They’re better, almost fully healed. It’s just some of the major ones that need more time, perhaps another day, the medics said. Not sure what the scarring situation may look like.” You say, pondering the idea. You received severe burns and cuts from shrapnel, but the bacta is quick to reverse damage, so who knows if you’ll sustain any reminders of the wounds at all. “What about yours?”

He shakes his head. “They were nothing to be concerned about. A brief touch of bacta on the worst of them and I’m fine.”

“That’s good to hear.” You say with a brief smile. It seems neither of you can ever come out of a battle uninjured.

He reaches over to his belt, unclipping a familiar item and depositing it into your hands. “Here, as promised.” You stare at your lightsaber handle, feeling that sturdy weight and all the different notches and engravings. It feels like an old friend, a companion through thick and thin. However, embedded into that metal is something else, a recent memory that doesn’t belong to you. A brief scene flashes through your mind, of hands that aren’t yours gripping the saber, both ends ablaze with red fury, twisting and thrashing it.

You look up at Kylo, astonishment clear on your face. “You used my lightsaber? I can’t believe you.” You say teasingly, raising a brow. He avoids your gaze, seemingly embarrassed to admit anything. You chuckle. “So, how was it?”

“It was… fine.” He bites the words out before he composes himself. “I can see why it requires such skill to handle one like yours. Your abilities are impressive.”

You smile again. “Thanks. I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself with it.” He rolls his eyes at that and you laugh as you set your lightsaber safely aside.

When you do, your eyes catch on the clock positioned on the wall that reads how late it is. The crew of the Steadfast is probably preparing to power down for the night and those taking the night patrols are getting ready for their shifts. You tap your fingers in thought, debating what you want to ask instead of just saying it like a wimp.

“I’ll stay here with you.” Kylo says, before you can manage to get it out. He saw the question formulating in your mind, felt the desire for him to keep close. He doesn’t want to leave you either.

“Are you sure? It’s a tight fit.” You point out. “I understand if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.” The infirmary beds are always small, sometimes even smaller than standard dorm beds, though this one is a just a tad bigger than usual because you’re the one sleeping in it. Sometimes your status can be useful.

“Of course.” He responds, like it’s the easiest decision in the world.

You scoot over to make as much room as you can for his hulking form. Kylo gets in behind you after kicking his boots off, about an inch away from falling off the bed, and pulls you close. He’s so very careful of your injuries, his arms snug around your body, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His steady breathing tickles your skin and his warmth bleeds into you, chasing away the chill of the infirmary as the lights dim to darkness.

The bond between you becomes relaxed, producing a mixture of warm colors and happy feelings that’s cultivated easily by the two of you in your state of peace as sleep is quick to claim you both.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Plushies!

JJK Actor AU. Kinda headcannon to what their “out of character” persona would be like. Basically you have plushies of them and they have opinions about it.

Inspired by another fic, can’t remember the name and I scrolled for an HOUR for it. All the character had texts prompts in them.

Maybe spoiler???

Nanami Kento

Continuation of this post

- Between you simping so hard for his onscreen self and the plushies, he is so tierd.

- He’s been acting since his late teens but had one big breakout role. Since you two started dating you have made it a mission to collect any fan content that involves a role he is in.

- Even in the roles where he’s evil you have a mountain of merch!

- He loves that you are so supportive but the Nanami obsession is next level. He’d be more upset if it wasn’t just his face.

- He loves you so he puts up with the Nanami plushies.

Gojo Satoru

- Date an actor they say! It’ll be fine they said! Literally wtf.

- He’s a lot like his character in terms of playfulness. You have gone on record to say they are pretty 1:1 with each other.

- So naturally, when you bring home a Gojo plushie he is distraught.

“I can’t believe you would cheat on me!”

“IT’S A TOY!”

- He kicks Gojo off the bed all the time. Now Gojo Plushie sleeps on the living room couch.

- He still gets up every morning and complains that there’s another man in your apartment when he isn’t there (completely disregarding that you are at work half the time)

- He is secretly looking for artist to commission to make a matching plushie of you.

Geto Suguru

- He HATES it.

- Not just because it’s a plushie of Geto in his Kenjaku era but also because you got it from a con. It’s not licensed merchandise. Meaning stuff he would have gotten for basically free.

- In fact “Sugu-Mini” was just the beginning of a small empire of Suguru plushies you acquired over his duration on the show.

“Why are they all so fucking ugly? Why don’t you ever buy the cute ones?”

- Would rather die than admit that he’s jealous you hold one in you lap while working or lean on them when on the couch.

- Finally stops complaining when you move them to your home office and cuddle with him again.

Kamo Choso

- Sweet angle baby. He actually loves that you love plushies so when he got casted as Choso he would made it a mission to get you one of the first plushies they made.

- It makes you happy so he is ready to get you as many as you wants. He posts on insta a lot so when he mentions looking for more Choso plushies it practically goes viral.

- The next con he went two it took like three attendants to help him lug all the plushies he got. He later posted on insta that night a picture of his bed covered in Choso plushies.

- Eagle eyed fans noticed something though. The layout of the bedroom look eerily similar to another person who made a post about their brand new Choso plush. What are the odds?

- You both turn it into a game, posting photos with an increasing amount of Choso’s everytime.

- This actually starts a trend, #chosoplushietakeover. There’s not a single cast member or crew mate that doesn’t have a Choso plushie. It’s wild.

Ieiri Shoko

- She’s always been a natural beauty, so graceful and ethereal like. Playing someone collected and laid-back like Shoko was a welcomed surprise.

- Even though her role is smaller compared to everyone else, she loved it anyway. Any video from production has her somewhere in the background.

- As another devoted con-goer she also gets a bunch of plushies and brings them all to you. You two have at least 1 plushies in every room in your home. You both even carry a keychain version on your bags.

Iori Utahime

- like her character she has a deep seated hatred for Gojo’s actor but in more of a rivalry way. They are both child stars that got casted a lot together. For a short amount of time they were a ship.

- she originally posted a cute (cropped) picture of her plushie with you sitting off to the side.

- then Gojo did the same.

- So she posted another handmade plushie on her story.

- So did he.

- At this point she wanted him DEAD cause she knows how he feels about those plushies so he’s doing this just to piss her off. It would be that bad if he wasn’t actively bragging about ratioing her.

- Soon enough it becomes the battle of the plushies between these two. Factors are formed in the fandom. No mercy, all glory, blood for the blood god.

Ijichi Kiyotaka

- Doesn’t have any official plushies.

- it isn’t until you buy one online that he kinda cares.

- He treats that plushie like it’s your son. He has a pillow on the living room couch that is HIS pillow. No one can use it, not even guests.

Fushiguro Toji

- He hates it.

- He thinks they’re creepy. He’s never liked stuffed animals ever since he was a kid. None of your kids even have stuffed animals outside of like, 1 teddy bear each.

- Everytime you enter the room he is practicing wrestling moves on the poor thing with your son. You’re just happy you got a good quality one cause it had lasted through some rounds of combat.

Ryomen Sukuna

- I imagine him also being a child star but his career took off when him and his younger brother (Yuuji’s actor) starred in a drama together.

- They did not fight the twin allegations. Sukuna is older though by 5 years. As they’ve gotten older, they’ve gotten easier to differentiate.

- He straight up stole his brother’s Yuuji plush and drew Sukuna’s tattoos on it.

-Combined you two have five plushies:

A pillow one that he uses as a back rest. Two keychain versions. The drawn on Yuuji plush. And an ugly one that got messed up in manufacturing that is your personal favorite.

- He is essentially a plushie thief, if you lend it to him you will never see it again. He is currently has the second most Choso plushie count cause he keeps stealing others. Yours included!

[roronoacherries]

Imagine one piece characters going through your room and finding one of those nsfw figures 🗣️🗣️

thank you for this request 🙏🏽

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬����𝐫𝐞𝐬 | zoro, nami, & sanji

you keep it tucked away in a little box under your bed, taking it out to admire it from time to time — the craftsmanship is amazing! you reason. it’s not like you’re wondering whether they really look like this… wondering what it’d feel like to run your hands along their skin.

you keep it wrapped in a cloth for extra measure. that box is the same place you keep your toys, those magazines, and the filthy romance novels you don’t want anyone to see…

it’s a safe little storage place, that’s all. no one has stumbled upon it; not until you’re knuckles deep in your cunt and hear a knock on your door. you think you’re ok when you manage to get to the door and act like you weren’t just on the edge of a beautiful orgasm. you’d stuffed the magazine you’d had beside you in the box, too.

they wouldn’t notice, would they? but when you turned to find what they’d come to ask you for, the hastily closed box caught their attention. and you could only hold your breath and think at least that was still under wraps.

𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐚 𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨

“what’s this?”

you stood frozen. “it’s nothing.”

you hadn’t closed the magazine properly and zoro’s gaze was studying the image of the man, muscular with golden skin, shimmering with sweat, a katana in one hand and his length in the other.

the only thing keeping you from dying of embarrassment is the relief that he hasn’t found that figure. you have every right to pleasure yourself, after all.

but it’s not enough for the swordsman, apparently, to find that you’ve been fucking yourself to the picture of a man who appears eerily similar to him, he has to rummage through the box, hands grazing the toys you’ve buried in your cunt before, painting a picture in his mind of you whimpering helplessly (and he thinks to himself that he could make you feel so much more pleasure with his hands alone).

no, he has to take that figure, wrapped carefully in a black cloth he could swear is the bandana he lost months ago, and uncover its contents.

you take it from his hands before he can get a good look at it, holding it behind your back. “you shouldn’t go through people’s things.”

but the damage has been done and the smirk on his lips is enough indication of that. “i’m bigger than that.”

and your face turns red, out of shame, anger, or lust you’re not sure.

“wanna see?”

𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

“my boobs look better than this,” is all she says before a smirk turns her lips. “don’t you think?”

you look down at her chest, covered only by a lacy top you could swear is a size too small, before averting your eyes. “of course,” you say, your voice almost a whisper.

nami laughs and your cheeks burn red. the navigator has a way of making you feel small that makes your pussy throb. “you can look. it’s okay,” she coos. “free of charge.”

“i only got it because i didn’t think you’d want some pervert to…” but your eyes steal another look at her pretty, perfect breasts anyway.

“you can touch them, too.” nami says, her voice beckoning you closer, ignoring your excuses. when you don’t move, she takes it upon herself to step closer to you, reaching for your hand and guiding it to her chest.

and you can’t help but stare now, feeling her soft hand over yours, wondering what it’d be like to press your lips there.

you don’t notice her hand sneaking under your oversized shirt — you hadn’t bothered to put your panties back on, thinking you’d be back in your bed soon enough — until her finger touches the slick, rubbing lightly back and forth until your eyes flutter and a moan escapes your lips, your hand giving her chest an involuntary squeeze.

“sorry if i interrupted you…” she pulls her finger away, giving it a slow lick. “don’t worry. i’ll pay you back.”

her hand disappears behind her back, smoothly untying the straps of her top, letting it fall to the ground, gently pushing you back with her other hand until you’re lying back on the bed. “i have to thank you for keeping me out of those dirty perverts’ minds, after all.”

𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐞𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢

he doesn’t mean to look, but the box was open and he thought he’d recognized some of the covers of those filthy magazines. he thought his eyes had played tricks on him; a sweet angel like you couldn’t be looking at something like that. and it had to be a coincidence that those specific issues were the ones that had gone missing from his own collection.

he couldn’t blame you; there were some beautiful images in those pages… of men and women alike. and he wondered which ones you’d bunny-eared.

he thought about reaching for it to check — your back was still turned to him, you wouldn’t know — but something else had caught his eye.

“is this… me?”

when you’d noticed it’d been too late. you’d been a fool and hadn’t wrapped it well enough, of course he’d see it.

“sanji, i swear it’s not what it looks like-”

you panic trying to think of a lie. trying to convince him that you don’t drool at the thought of sucking him off, helping him destress on those days when he can’t seem to get out of the kitchen.

“fuck, angel,” he tuts, his voice deep and breathy. “haven’t i told you that if you want anything from me, all you have to do is ask?”

you nod, your thighs squeezing together at the change in his demeanor. you notice his hand already gently kneading himself through his pants.

“so tell me what you need, princess.”

─────────────────────────────

tags: @idiotlittleme @zoros-4th-sword @i8hyuka @gaby-chwan @dimimyth @zoronnoa @tinkywinky27 @lyriczhou @maaarshieee @zorobraun @trafalgardvivi

masterlist | taglist

[angel---eater]

thinking about how my usual go-to intersex dirk is affected by cooercive gendering in both the beta and alpha timelines.... and just gender stuff in homestuck in general.... cause the timeframe really counts. where babydirk lands temporally really makes or breaks this guy and his rship with his body. dirk as a character is so concerned abt how others percieve him that he wears his interests and hobbies like leather armour. he wears the projected images other ppl have of him more than he just, yknow, is

dirk in the beta timeline wouldve been fostered and was CAMAB, but his puberty started doing Unexpected Things, so they took little bro to the doctor so he can have his manly male puberty 'fixed'. bro would spend his whole life directly under the thumb of hegemonic cismasculinity, and he would know that if he adjusted even an inch, just to shift his weight even a little, then he suddenly wouldnt be Man Enough. and the blowback for that would be terrifying for him. hed be being slowly suffocated by the adults in his life and lil cal constantly whispering into his ear. this would be part of bro's experience with being groomed for sure

dirk in the alpha timeline however would be a free range kid. he wouldve grown up basically genderless until he figured out how to peruse the dead internet and discovered what boys and girls as cisgender concepts were. alpha dirks problem wouldnt so much be that hes directly under the thumb of Cis Manhood, but bc hed be desperately chasing after the ghosts of communities long dead. hed be directionless. he assumes hes a boy, he feels like one a lot of the time, but is he really? he keeps finding conflicting information on what Being A Man is, what Being A Woman is, what being Anyone At All is. hed chase after cismasculinity bc itd just feel the most familiar to him. he'd fall into the traps chrisofacist gender rolls laid out for masculinity bc thered be no one around but himself and his own very fallable perspecetive on this stuff to help get him out of it. and roxy is in the exact same boat. theyd have no idea how to even START talking about this except through the pidgeonhole of compcis

and its interesting too cause there IS talk of gender in the alpha session, but its from calliope whos also very very very removed from human (and troll, bc theyre analogous in canon) gender in the first place, eerily similar to dirk and roxy and their particular brand of isolation from humanity**. callie very explicitly represents the side of fandom that is good-faith exploration of canon, but whos too married to their own fanon and always more biased towards it over canon. i love callie so much but shes my biased and unreliable queen haha. what she says about gender, esp supposed gender-locked classpect stuff, isnt nessicarily, actually true. and thats REALLY cool bc of course everyone is a little biased about gender stuff and trans theories. its so personal how can we not be yknow?? and we experience other ppl through our own lens, having even residual biases (just favouring pink moreso than blue for example, im not talking abt bigotry) is just really normal imo. callie's a really good example of this. she knows shes a girl and loves being a girl, as she fuckin should, so she holds a grain of bias towards femininity and womanhood

**normally i would include jake in The Social Isolation, but again, where the alpha kids landed temporally REALLY makes a difference. jake is also completely isolated but he has an active and current internet to dig through. i wanna explore jakes relationship w/ himself more often but my brain is so full of dirk and roxy and callie its, well, its bias LMAO

[knnichs]

WHAT A STAND UP GUY!

— neuvillette’s ideal way of “making up” to you is going to a corn maze. you’re deathly afraid of mazes. (and spooky things in general.)

c. neuvillette

t. gn!reader, modern setting, horror elements (jumpscares, suspense), mentions of blood, its just a corn maze (he says), wc: balls IM KIDDING… 2.3k

m. @mikashisus @mitsvriii @lowkeyren @https-sourlimes @akutasoda @tragedy-of-commons @/stellaronhvnters

happy stellaween folks, i chose the prompt CORN-MAZE!!! (creator comments at the end)

“I didn’t take you to be a horror fan, Neuvillette.”

There's barely any light in the room at all—save for the eerily placed candles and lanterns—it’s dark, it’s stuffy, and uncomfortably cramped for a lobby. For a corn maze, you’d expect an open area for the registration. Apparently, this one was a little more extra with the planning and design to the point where they made sure there was absolutely no way you could see the maze, which adds to the surprise and spooky factor, you suppose.

“You learn something new everyday,” your partner, the main cause of the ‘death due to corn maze fright’ incident of Stellaween ‘24, looked at you with curiosity.

“Frightened already? We haven't even entered the maze itself yet.”

“I am not frightened,” You said, clenching your jaw. “and—this place… Er, whatever the hell this lobby is supposed to be, is dark and cramped. That's two things you should never mix.”

“Sure. Everything you say must be true, no?” He laughed before moving forward to the glass box. 

Even the registration itself was on theme. The glass had several minor cracks, there was one that went all the way from the right side to the end of the left. Fake cobwebs everywhere, an obviously cheap jack-o-lantern with an electric candle inside of it is placed on the middle of the desk, a huge sign on top of the little box that has ‘SIGN UP (don't let it chase you)’ written in a dark red with exactly three handprints on random areas.

The design is cheap, cliche, and too common. It’s something you’d find everywhere—but the sounds playing through the hidden speakers and fog is what enhances the ‘spookiness’ everything has. How nice, even the staff dressed up for the occasion. The employee on the left had face paint similar to a  skeleton, and the other was a… Bloody nurse?

You get the tickets, (un)fortunately. The cashier pointed out a rule they had for the maze and that was no other than a ‘strictly no refunds’ policy. 

Great. This day has truly been going the way you originally wanted it to.

Two days ago, you texted Neuvillette saying you wanted to go to the theater. There was a specific musical that was showing for a halloween special, you had been interested in watching it for a while now. Of course, Neuvillette being a busy man, you had to first ask if he could go so you wouldn't risk wasting money on an extra ticket. Sadly, he took way too long to reply. He had seen-zoned you for days before finally saying yes, this morning. You didn’t secure the tickets to the show, and it was a limited time thing. You’re not that bummed out about it anyway, he shortly apologized to you in person and said he would make it up to you.

That’s exactly what led you to this situation right now. With a heart rate going up to 98 as you slowly make your way to the entrance of the corn maze. With how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself—you never liked corn mazes. One thing that made you dislike it was a movie showing two characters, a boy and a guy, running around before the boy eventually disappears. The whole point of the movie was showing how fast time flies. Although it wasn't exactly a horror show, it certainly made you fearful that you, too, would disappear if you entered a corn maze.

Many thoughts scatter in your head as the ushers bring you to the gates. The only thing separating you (and Neuvillette) from a self-proclaimed ‘scariest corn maze’ was two hollow pieces of wood with, you guessed it, fake blood all over it.

“Is this your idea of salvaging a relationship with me?” You muttered, genuinely questioning the man beside you. He just nodded—saying ‘It’s really not that bad if you think about it.’ and going on a short-lived rant on how everything is fake.

“Please ensure all your belongings are safely kept in your bags, we are not liable for any damage or lost property.” One of the ushers reminded the two of you, “Once you’re ready, just look towards the camera over there and shout; ‘Stellaween’.”

“What will it be used for?” You wondered, looking at the direction they pointed at.

“Ah, well you signed a waiver that you were allowing the two of you to be recorded, did you not?” 

Right, you completely forgot about that. There were cameras that were going to record the ‘jumpscare’ moments. Did you agree to it? You had zoned out during the registration, you don’t remember a single thing. But of course, Neuvillette nodded, saying that you did.

Some god must’ve cursed you with bad luck today.

Not only will you enter, possibly, one of the most nerve-wrecking places you’ve ever been to, you’ll be recorded while doing so. Each reaction, each scream—and if you do die from fright, it will be because of some cliche, overboard, corn maze.  Will that be on your mural? 

“Come on,” Neuvillette whispers, egging you on. He puts your hand in his, squeezing you a little to give you some motivation. Of course, he would be with you every step of the way. “I’ll keep you safe, my dear.” 

You look at him—you would trust this man with your entire life, you think.

“Would you like one of these?” The staff shows you a long, orange bandana. “You can wrap it around your wrists, a lot of recent explorers have done this method to ease some of their worries. It’s safe in there, no need to be scared.”

Neuvillette takes the bandana and thanks the worker. He works fast, tying the piece of cloth between the two of you with ease and skill. 

“Let’s go?” He asks, brushing some hair behind your ear and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead to give some encouragement.

To his surprise, you quickly nod your head after three deep breaths.

Similar to the lobby, the maze itself is also dark. And cramped. With tall cornstalk, it's hard to see anything beyond the area you’re in now. It’ll be difficult to cheat your way through this. Neuvillette is still holding your hand as you two take a few turns, you had honestly thought he would let go by now—then you realize you were the one squeezing his hand so hard, as if he would run away from you the second you’d let go.

There are a few lanterns scattered throughout, and some candies to lead the way. You don't dare pick one up though, you wonder how long it's been there or how many people have already stepped on it. Suddenly, a groan can be heard from… Somewhere, in the maze.

“Neuvi, you don’t suppose there are actors in the maze, do you?” You ask, worrying about any possible ‘jumpscares’, as the staff had mentioned before you entered.

“It wasn’t listed in their advertisement post…” He hummed, bringing a hand to his chin as if trying to remember the details. “…No. No—I don’t think there was ever something stating there were any actors, nor anything saying that there wasn’t.”

Shit. 

A distant humming, followed by a groan, and a click.

You grab Neuvillettes arm, basically hugging it like a koala would. Looking around, you try to see if there was anything at all—any indications that someone was coming.

Click.

“My dear, I’m with you.” He brings his free hand to rub it soothingly against yours. Warm and comforting. You relax a little, that is until you notice the clicking noise was getting much, much louder. “There’s no need to worry. They aren’t real.”

It didn’t take too long for you to realize that—yes, there are actors in the maze. Yes, there are a bunch of them. All dressed up in different costumes; one a vampire, a ghost, another a werewolf, and a zombie. All have some sort of red in their outfits, smudged fake blood (or is it paint?) across their shirts and faces. It’s so overdone, but seeing it in person makes it absolutely horrifying.

There are about four of them, two are chasing Neuvillette, and the other two are chasing you. You bolted as soon as you noticed them, and the bandana tying you and Neuvillette together had loosened—leaving you with no companion in a dark, cramped, absolutely horrible corn-maze. This had to be your no-good, very-bad day.

Silence fills the air. You managed to mislead the actors to a different part of the maze, and you hid underneath a desk prop, for god's sake. You take your phone out from your bag, trying to contact Neuvillette, except you see the empty bars on the top screen. No signal.

Recounting your series of unfortunate events today:

You didn’t get to watch that halloween-special-limited time show.

Neuvillette’s idea of ‘making it up to you’ is by going to a corn maze.

Tickets are non-refundable, so you’re basically forced to go.

There are actors in the maze. They can run.

You just lost your only companion—and there's no signal.

You can't believe you have to put an ‘and’ in your imaginary list. By the looks of things, you might even expect something else happening right this moment, maybe a few minutes from now, once you crawl out under the desk.

You turn off your phone and turn it back on again, hoping the signal thing was a joke your eyes played on you (it wasn’t.) There’s nothing you can really do right now except think about what exactly pushed you to be confident and fearless before entering the corn maze.

Neuvillette just had to be your partner—he just had to have the most obscure ideas of apologizing. A corn maze, out of everything he could’ve chosen to do to celebrate the spirit of halloween! It wasn’t having a nice, peaceful picnic. Nor was it just carving out ridiculous faces into pumpkins, or watching a simple scary movie—No, it just had to be a corn maze! A first hand experience on becoming the main character in a horror film where they have to escape the crazy murderer with an equally crazy looking hatchet!

God, you needed to take a deep breath to calm your mind. Whatever’s going through your head is making you sound like you were going insane. 

“—Come on, I’m right here.” A voice says in the distance. Now that you think about it, it sounds somewhat familiar. 

There's a flash of the familiar white, long hair you’ve grown accustomed to. Did the actors chase down Neuvillette, steal his outfit, and his hair? You truly hope that wasn’t the case, that they weren't pretending to be that one person you find comfort in. Well, in this case, the only thing you find comfort in right now. 

Either way, this is a do or die situation (not really, you just like exaggerating things.) If you don’t come out of the desk, you doubt that Neuvillette would spot you, even if it's an actor or not. You can always tell them to break out of their role and take you out of the maze safely. So, slowly, you stand up from your hiding spot—risking yourself to be exposed to any actors who may be waiting to ambush you. You close your eyes shut and just pray that Neuvillette will spot you.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The voice says, gradually coming closer. Warm arms envelop you in a tight hug, hands rubbing soothingly on your back. Immediate peace and comfort in a moment of fear—truthfully, you would only get this feeling from one specific person in your life. You return the hug, allowing your rapidly beating heart to calm down now that you’re safe.

“Are you okay?” You nod to the question, allowing yourself to just breathe in this moment.

“We can stay like this for as long as you want to, my sweet.”

It takes a bit before you clear your mind. 

“That maze was nothing,” you brag—quite confidently too. The two of you had just finished taking a photo in the booth, and are just waiting for the photostrip to get printed. “It was so easy after all. The only thing that made it the least bit scary was the actors.”

“You’re acting as if you didn’t just sob the entire way to the exit whining: ‘Neuvi, I was soo scared. I almost died!’” He crossed his arms, imitating your voice with an overexaggerated high-pitched tone.

You huff, “Whatever! I got chased out by a werewolf and a vampire. That's a deadly combo, I say. Plus, they had like—fake blood all over them, you’d actually think they murdered someone!” 

“Sure, I’m sure it was just as frightening as you make it out to be.” Neuvillette had the nerve to laugh at your fears.

Your photo drops from the printer, but you don’t ever recall doing two. As you pick them both up, the first photo was the one you had taken in the booth not too long ago, and as for the second… It was the one where you and Neuvillette realized you were being chased. A QR code on the side saying: ‘VIEW YOUR VIDEO HERE!’

“Yes yes, I can already read your mind. I won’t send it to anyone, don’t worry.” Neuvillette laughed—once more—at the fear in your face. 

You don’t have to think about him showing it to others, I mean, he wouldn’t do that. You only need to think about the sheer amount of teasing you will get from this man for an entire week. And next year, when it’s halloween season once more, you doubt that Neuvillette will ever let you forget what exactly happened in this—the (self proclaimed) scariest corn maze of 2024.

creators comments. i know i said id be on break but the network said ‘writing event’ and i rushed to gdocs as soon as i could 😁🫶 requests are still closed however ,,,!!!!! ANYWAY heres a silly little thing ,, neuvillette has been PLAGUING my mind ever since i finished the fontaine quest <3 SO! i actually asked the srvr for their insights on who this should be about (i was torn between tighnari, neuvi, and thoma if i can recall that properly) and most of them said neuvi,, so here we are☺️ i forgot how to write and THATS IT!

[innerfare]

Lawbin Headcanons 

Summary: Early stages of Lawbin. This whole thing is basically Law being a dork who’s constantly trying to play it cool while falling for the weird girl (Robin, I love you, never change). 

Characters: Trafalgar Law x Nico Robin

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

When Robin met the Captain of the Heart Pirates, the Surgeon of Death and a Warlord of the Sea, Dr. Trafalgar Law, she didn’t trust him, not even for a second. Recall, she has extensive experience with Warlords and would have died at the hands of one if Luffy hadn’t saved her despite her own insistence he leave her to die. As soon as she meets Law, she swears to herself that if things go sour, Luffy won’t be saving her and, in fact, she’ll be saving Luffy. She won’t let the Warlord take a shot at her Captain, and she takes Luffy’s proposition that if the alliance goes bad, the crew will have his back, to heart.  

For the longest time, that’s how Robin thinks of Law: the Warlord. She never talks about it, but she has PTSD from her time with Crocodile. She had never known peace or solace in her life; the safest position she’d had before joining the Straw Hats was as the right hand of a man who ultimately viewed her as expendable. And Sir Crocodile wasn’t just any man, he was a pirate brimming with power and eerily intelligent, with a mind for strategy. Just like Traffy, whose insistence on planning out every little detail and having a backup plan for every backup plan takes Robin right back to Alabasta. 

Robin becomes a little obsessed with comparing him to Crocodile. She zeroes in on his willingness to make small sacrifices for the greater cause, his analytical nature and reserved emotions, his apparent lack of friends. Only, Traffy went to great lengths to help the Straw Hats rescue the children on Punk Hazard, and he didn’t take the opportunity to be too cruel to Smoker and Tashigi despite having them chained in front of him. But that doesn’t stop her from trying to make him into Crocodile 2.0.  

And then there’s Law, who’s such a dork. Strategic alliance this, strategic alliance that, but from the second he met the Straw Hats, he wasn’t thinking about betraying them, he was wondering how he was supposed to remain impartial with such an affable group. He thought Nico, at least, would be an ally against the general Straw Hat insanity, but she turned out to be the crew’s worst enabler rather than the mother hen he had originally pegged her for. Which begs the question, what else was he wrong about? 

Annoyed to have been so wrong, Law begins paying more attention to Nico. He notices that she doesn’t fall into the insular trap that a lot of academics do. She’s not just an expert on her one field but in fact is incredibly well read and is a wealth of knowledge on a menagerie of different topics, and each topic he learns she is well-versed in is weirder than the last. 

Why is Nico an expert on Panda Shark socialization? How did Nico come to find out that there is a mythical, lost library full of love poems on an unnamed sky island? Why does Nico have so many books on a random king from the South Blue who died eight hundred years ago? How did Nico learn that there’s an island in the West Blue where white pumpkins grow on bone trees? And why, oh why, is she versed in Germa 66 lore? Finding out the last one makes his heart drop, the realization that he would risk it all for the Straw Hat archaeologist making Law’s stomach churn. 

And how is she so calm all the time? He had pegged the academic as similar to him, but her crew’s shenanigans seem to just roll right off her. She sat in that cell with him and the others in Punk Hazard reminiscing about old times with Luffy and Smoker instead of cowering in the shadow of Vergo, and she more than held her own on Green Bit, lending herself to him as an asset time and again, always being there to lend a helping hand (or twelve) when the plan fails. 

All that is to say, Law falls first. But it’s Robin who makes the first move. 

It’s only when she sees Traffy interact with his crew that Robin sees him for who he is, and she can’t get that man out of her head- that man who isn't domineering but tries to make people follow his orders to protect them, that man who is so adored by his crew (the members of which he protects rather than uses for his own gain), that man who, despite being called Warlord, is kind of adorable. 

Robin starts teasing him a bit; she just can’t help herself. Now that her Crocodile glasses are off, she can see that he doesn’t have the sort of temper that leads him to kill people but rather the sort that just leaves him spluttering and speechless. And, well, she thinks it’s cute. She starts feeling dumb, too, for not having seen it sooner. After all, Luffy saw he was a good and trustworthy person, and that should have been enough for her, but she had been blinded. 

No longer blinded, she starts enjoying her time with Traffy, though he doesn’t notice the shift, doesn't realize she's soft on him. He thinks she’s needling him for some other reason. It never occurs to him that Nico (or anyone, for that matter) finds him cute. And he almost goes into cardiac arrest when she tells him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He demands one night, fed up with that little smile that always seems to be on Nico’s face while she’s staring at him. “Nothing,” she says, swallowing her giggle, “I just think you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” And with that, she leaves him to process what she’d just said. 

Their relationship is built on info dumping. Robin can talk about her weird interests, such as the mating habits of Sea Kings and the fact that the antidote made from Conine in the bark of Kona Trees can actually be used as a poison if mixed with the correct substances. And Law can talk about his childish interests, such as various comic books and ninjas. These two geek out on a level not previously known to humankind. 

They bring each other odd tokens, typically the weirdest possible thing they could find on their respective travels. 

Law buying Robin books and leaving notes inside that get progressively more personal, Robin asking Sanji to show her how to make onigiri because it’s Law’s favorite. 

And then there’s the trauma. Both were nearby when their parents were murdered. Both were alone in the world at a very young age, Robin hunted by the World Government and Law by the Donquixote family. Both know what it’s like to be completely alone with nothing to their name but a bizarre devil fruit ability and a target on their back. Both managed to find their way in the world despite feeling for years that they never would. They didn’t save each other because they didn’t have to. They’re traumatized, but they’re not broken, and together, they can be even stronger. They saved themselves, and now that they did, they’re free to bask in each others’ presence. And that’s exactly what they do. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[murdercide626]

YET MORE SONIC THEORIES/RAMBLINGS!

So I've seen this piece of early concept art from the 2005 Shadow game floating around, and it's really piqued my interest.

This piece seemingly depicts Gerald Robotnik as a major antagonist alongside his grandson Eggman, rather than the Black Arms aliens.

We also see that Gerald isn't wearing his signature glasses and seems to have a metal plate grafted to his head, possibly alluding to how he might have survived his apparent execution at the hands of G.U.N.

In the scenario provided by this early concept, we would essentially have two "Robotnik's" running around: Eggman, a bombastic, childish megalomaniac, and Gerald, a more reserved, sinister madman out to destroy the earth rather than conquer it.

Now why does this setup sound so eerily familiar?

Because, yes, we got basically that in Sonic Rush, with the introduction of Dr. Eggman's twisted doppelganger Eggman Nega.

It should be noted that Gerald and Nega have certain similarities, most obviously their greying mustaches and shared resemblance to Eggman, but Nega, much like Gerald at the end of his life, is also someone who has descended into madness and has deeply sinister intentions, up to and including the destruction of the world.

So yeah, my theory is that the concept of Eggman Nega evolved from this early idea of Gerald somehow being revived to wreak havoc in the modern day, and this recently uncovered piece of concept art could be a missing link of sorts between the 2005 Shadow game and Sonic Rush.

The kicker here is that both games were in development around the same time. They even released in the same month! On the same day even!

I just can't get this idea out of my head, and I keep thinking about all of the interesting character interactions that scenario would provide! I would very much love to see how both Shadow and Eggman would confront Gerald, a man who was once so beloved by both characters in their own way, after he's fallen so far into despair and vengeance-fueled madness.

Almost makes the character of Eggman Nega feel a little underwhelming in hindsight, like a safer, more sanitized version of the revived Gerald concept.

But could this also mean that Gerald would have stuck around to become a reoccurring antagonist? Was the plot of Sonic Rush originally going to be a follow-up to the Shadow game, with Eggman joining forces with Gerald?? Maybe not, considering both games were released simultaneously. But still interesting to think about.

That said, I'm ultimately glad they went in a different direction with the Shadow game and introduced Shadow's freaky alien heritage. And yet I'm still so fascinated by what might have been. Ah well.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

in your eyes

let's go another mermaid-bunny installment! featuring dust watching killer sleep like a creep.

(cw: stalking behaviors, paranoia)

killer has to admit, the right-hand man to his new owner is kind of a creep.

the weird thing is that the guy often just ignores killer and pretends he isn't in the room with him at all. so killer does the same to him, no feelings harmed. but whenever killer feels a prick at his neck, he will turn to look just in time to see the usual dull white eyelights intensely focused on him for just a millisecond before they break away and look at something else.

killer knows a predator when he sees one.

but dust never acts upon his position over killer. he only watches from afar, as killer gets more acquainted with cross and horror, the other two under nightmare's employment. horror is a bit of a mean character, but cross balances that with a healthy dose of niceties that killer hasn't seen in a while. all in all, not too bad of an arrangement. anything would be better than the situation he had with chara.

that doesn't mean everything is nice and dandy, of course. the first thing killer took note of on his first night in the castle was that while they have their individual rooms, there are no locks. something about "we're all trusted comrades here, aren't we" and all that jazz - killer couldn't be bothered to pay attention to an obvious lie. so killer spent pretty much the first three days having what little shut-eye he could have against the door of his room, with his knife held tightly inside his jacket. on the second night, he could hear it - the light footsteps that stopped just outside of his room, the soft clacking of someone trying to twist the handle and open the door. killer was jolted awake immediately, but he stayed still, waiting for the maybe-intruder to force themself into his room. but they never did. instead, after a few attempts, they gave up and walked away. killer stayed wide awake for hours until the next day came, vigilantly guarding his door the whole time.

he didn't confront dust, nor does he have any intention of doing so just yet. but he's sure that there is no one else in this castle who can move as silently as dust does.

creep, the voice in his head, eerily similar to chara, scoffs. killer, sitting on the couch next to horror, looks up from his phone. there is dust again, coming down from the stairs. and their eyes meet for a second before dust angles his head and goes past the communal area, disappearing into the hallway.

"what's his problem?" killer asks aloud. horror pauses in his little wood carving project to look at him.

"just ignore him. he's like that all the time."

"what? being a weirdo?"

"like you have any place to say," horror mutters, back to his carving.

"funny. last i remember, i'm not the one prowling the halls at night like a glorified janitor."

"he does that," horror muses. "he doesn't sleep much. just don't get in his way during nights. you won't like the aftermath."

"heh," killer props his chin on his knees. "now i'm curious."

horror only gives him a side-eye. "seriously, don't provoke him."

"sure thing," killer smiles at his comrade. horror doesn't look like he believes him. truth to be told, killer doesn't either.

you're a dumbass for doing this, the chara-voice in his head bemoans. killer ignores it as always, snuggling into the surprisingly cozy blankets on his surprisingly comfortable bed. do you want to get killed by that insane murderer?

well, that's what he's trying to find out here. he can't figure out what dust wants with him, and the quicker he knows the better. lying down on the bed with one hand under the pillow where his trusty knife is, killer closes his eyes and slows his breathing. a trick he learns from his before-times. comes in handy whenever chara is around.

time trickles by as killer stays still in his bed. seconds stretch into minutes into hours. eventually killer hears it - the slow creak of a door opening and closing. he could hear the footsteps approaching him, just stopping at the foot of the bed. his hand tightens around the handle of the knife. there's no more sounds, not even the rustling of clothes. it sounds like dust is just standing there, watching him sleep. he could feel the eyelights burning into his form, like a colony of ants crawling onto his body. creepy, but not the worst thing to endure.

things get interesting when dust decides to move. but not towards killer. sounds like he's perusing killer's room, as if searching for something. killer wouldn't know - he doesn't have anything of importance in here except for his share of clothes and some trophies he stole from chara. killer listens to dust moving around his room and finally stopping right next to the bed, just behind killer's turned back. killer can't sense any intent, with his soul being like that and all, but he has a feeling dust wouldn't do anything further than watching him anyway. something pangs in his chest, a sensation he cannot pin down exactly. it's... uncomfortable.

he counts in his head how long dust stands there - about three hours and eleven minutes - before leaving. he waits for a few minutes before springing out of his bed to check around his room. he can't find any camera yet. his room looks unchanged as far as he knows. none of the clothes was taken away. his secret stash hasn't been discovered yet - the unfortunate finder will have their hand stuck in a bear trap already.

so all in all, killer still doesn't get why dust is stalking him. great.

maybe it's time to get proactive then.

[pingpongbqll]

So, I wanna give my thoughts about the situation that's going on right now.

TW: Please do not, NOT, harass anyone I mentioned in this post!

To give a short recap about all of this, there's a ranfren content creator, just like me, named @lorrainailurophile who is being accused of copying potato's ranfren OC, Murderer. Someone called @sweetswirlybread made all of these false claims about Muri "copying" Murderer.

So, let me break through all of them and prove why this dumbass is wrong with the claims and evidence I have.

This is going to be a long post, so if you don't want to read all of this and want more depth into this, go to Muri's page or Swirly's to find all of these stupid claims.

Before we get into this, let's talk about what the difference of copying and inspiring art.

When you're inspiring art, you mostly get the idea from someone else and make it your own. That's totally fine because you're using other's ideas into making something that's your own work and mostly using your ideas for it.

However, when you copy another person's art, it's obviously stealing. You're basically making it obvious by tracing over the character body, coloring in the places that's already been colored, and making some uncanny versions of the design that you stole.

Okay, now, let's take a dive to the accusations.

So, number 1!

The Facial Expressions

This first claim comes from how similar Murder and Muri's facial expressions are because of the squinted eyes and the sly smile.

These facial expressions are usually the key point to ranfren characters' designs.

Here are a few examples:

Nana, the one and only glorious snake queen, also has squinted eyes. Although the smile is different, the eyes are just like Murderer and Muri's.

And let's not forget about Randal himself.

Funny enough, he also has the same kind of expression with the eyes and mouth.

Not only with these expressions, there are also some images of the 'oval eyes'.

These are some of the many examples that showcase these eyes. If you want to see more, just go to the official website to look for yourself.

Number 2!

The "Copy" of Murderer

Now, this is obviously really ridiculous to me.

Saying that someone's oc is a copy to another person's oc is kinda ridiculous to me. And let me say why.

The images that Swirly provided show Muri in a worn-out and dirty t shirt and Murderer having the same kind.

Huh, what are surprise! So, people can't wear worn-out and dirty t shirt? Cause I've also seen a lot of ocs wearing that kind of clothing as well!

Another claim they made is that even the outfits for their current design are also similar, and Muri copied that as well.

So, basically, if someone is wearing a black bodysuit with something on their head, is automatically a copy of Murderer?

There are a lot of ranfren ocs who have a bodysuit as their design, and they also have something on their head!

Like, take Carpet Kitty, a canon ranfren character, as an example.

Do you see how she's also wearing a bodysuit with something on her head?

Man, I'm sure that's just a total coincidence.

Number 3!

The Chibi Artstyle

This is another claim that is also obviously stupid because the fact that the two arts barely look alike.

I mean, just look at the chibi art that CaptainHowdie, THE creator, made!

Oh, wow, this looks so similar to the art that Potato made!

Notice the head, the body, and the style itself?

Notice how so eerily similar that looks?

I'm sure that's just a total coincidence.

Number 4!

The Height Character Data

This just made me roll my eyes.

I knew there was going to be a claim about this, so I did a small comparison on my own

Now, can you explain to me how does this look similar?

The facial expression may look a little similar, but look at the size, the body proportions, and the details in general.

Before you say anything about the size, I did make the two images aligned together, and they still ended up being totally different sizes.

Also, Swirly added something about the knife.

Like, again, ocs can't use knives? They can't use knives as a weapon or like an accessory or something?

Does that mean Nyen can't use a knife cause he also uses that as his primary source?

Again, stop claiming whatever a character has as their own. Anyone can use that.

Number 5!

The Background

This claim shows how Muri traced the background that another ranfren oc creator was using for their art. This is again false because it's confirmed that Muri did drew this while taking inspiration of the background.

I won't go too hard on this claim cause I kinda understand why they would see this to be traced.

Number 6!

The Name

At this point, I believe Swirly's account is just rage bait.

The name.

Murderer and Muri.

You're claiming that Muri is copying Potato because of their oc's name?

I'm going to say this one final time, stop claiming whatever things a character has on their own!

Guess what people who have a name that starts with 'Mur', you are a copy of someone's oc!

Now, my thoughts about all this is that Swirly just made all these claims cause they might want attention or something.

Please do ACTUAL research before you start pointing fingers at someone.

This could be a serious risk as someone who is just trying to show their skills on the internet get basically blasted off for something that they didn't try to intentionally do.

And also, you can't fight all this back by drawing r34 of that oc without the creator's consent and dismissing it by saying you don't care if they're a minor.

So, please, stop. Just stop.

Muri, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this. Just know that you're not alone and there are people like me and other people who support you, who'll stick by your side. So, keep on doing what you're doing and don't give up!

[turn-my-hollow-purple]

What Tropes Would AOT Characters be in a Horror Movie

I'm gonna make 'AOT in a Haunted House next <3'

Eren: he is what the locals call 'the reckless or unhinged protagonist' meaning he is very much so liability to everyone involved; "everybody stay calm, everybody stay- FUCK THE KILLER'S HERE SHIT FUCK PUSSY ASS BITCH"... dead by the end

Mikasa: THE FINAL GIRL HELLO?? The badass final girl who is left standing, tries to protect everyone that she can and isn't making stupid decisions... she's obviously alive

Armin: he's obviously the strategist. "Eren shut up we're coming up with a plan... theoretically the window up there could *insert smart yapping here*"... he lives

Jean: here is your classic skeptic, trying his hardest to be a [delusional] voice of reason "there's no psycho murderer *Marco dies* alright.. there might be a psycho murderer..." he's dead by the end let's Bffr

Sasha and Connie: they're a package duo because they're the comedic relief together. They are in a constant state of joking and not taking anything seriously... "Connie did you see his outfit?" "He looked so fat, that was sooooo unflattering, Sasha"... they're both dead, like two of the first ones at that

Levi Ackerman: he is 'the veteran' as in... he is the lone survivor from a previous mass killing so he knows what to do, how to do it, etc. and is eerily calm... casually lore drops all his trauma.... he has to survive another massacre

Hange: the 'a little too obsessed with dead bodies' character... a possible candidate for who the killer may be just purely because of their intense interest in the gore... they die, proving that they aren't the killer and everyone freaks out

Erwin: the 'leader'; this is a very similar essence to Armin but Erwin takes on the task to actually direct everyone... he dies sorry

Reiner: the traitor... "I'm sorry... a sacrifice had to be made in order for me to survive" (let's be real he doesn't really wanna survive but you get the gist)... he's alive because of his betrayal

Bertholdt: the 'willing to sacrifice themself' character. He sacrifices himself for someone and this is the character death that has everyone so fucked up because he was just a sweetheart... he's obviously dead

Annie: she is 'the lethal outsider', the lone wolf, and WANTS to separate from the group... therefore she's a main suspect of who the killer could be (she isn't though)... she survives and has to prove herself to not be the killer

Historia: alright hot take? question mark? but she's the token virgin character. you think she's pathetic and she's gonna die but oh man THE PLOT ARMOR SHE HAS! (because she's a virgin) and she ends up like, almost saving Armin from death or something.

Ymir: she is the 'one with a dark past'. So this basically means like she's really only here to protect herself and Historia because of the hell she's gone through with her family and shit like that and she doesn't trust others to look out for her. They all also speculate that she could be the killer... but she ends up dying in the end

[knoepfl]

A Halloween of Horrors

Characters:

Art the Clown: The horrifyingly sadistic, silent, and twisted clown. Known for his grotesque humor and terrifying unpredictability, he finds twisted amusement in toying with his “victim.” Though usually merciless, tonight he’s taken a different approach, involving her in his wicked plans in his own dark, playful way. Reader: Art’s “victim” who has somehow captured his disturbing attention. While most would run in terror, she’s grown to accept—if not be intrigued by—his strange antics and terrifying presence. Drawn into Art’s macabre games, she finds herself playing along with his dark humor, all while haunted by his unpredictable nature.

Trigger Warnings: Gore, violence, dark themes, horror elements, unsettling behavior

Masterlist

Words: 868

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The evening had settled into a haunting silence, the shadows growing longer and the moon casting an eerie glow over the empty streets. You felt a chill creep up your spine, knowing tonight would be far from ordinary. Halloween was Art’s night—a night to do whatever he pleased, a night when he felt most at home in the world’s darkest corners.

You didn’t know when he had chosen you, or why. But somehow, for reasons only he knew, he had allowed you to survive his games. Tonight, he had even insisted on “dressing you up,” a wicked gleam in his blackened eyes as he presented you with a costume—a miniature replica of his own, complete with a black-and-white jumpsuit and a twisted smile painted on your face.

You stared at yourself in the cracked mirror he had provided, a mixture of dread and dark amusement pooling in your stomach. The face that stared back was eerily similar to Art’s own, a pale white with exaggerated black lips and dark eyes, almost mocking his chilling appearance. The more you looked, the more you felt yourself blending into his twisted world, becoming his perfect little puppet for the night.

Art tilted his head as he watched you, his painted grin unmoving but his eyes glittering with approval. He gave you a slow, mocking clap, clearly pleased with his handiwork.

You gave a nervous laugh, shifting uncomfortably in the ill-fitting suit. “So… what’s the plan tonight?” you asked, half-joking, half-hoping he didn’t have one.

Art’s eyes narrowed, and he lifted a finger to his lips, motioning for silence as he tilted his head to the side, listening to the faint sounds of Halloween night—trick-or-treaters in the distance, and an occasional laugh echoing down the alleyways. Then, with a childlike glee, he took your hand, tugging you down the street, your painted-on grin matching his as you followed.

The world around you felt strange, a surreal version of itself as Art guided you through the backstreets, every shadow and echo seeming darker, every movement amplified in the silence. People barely spared the two of you a glance, assuming you were both just Halloween enthusiasts in costume. It was a cover that let Art move freely, a thought that sent a thrill of fear through you.

After a while, you approached a small group gathered around a bonfire in a vacant lot, laughing and chatting. Art’s head tilted as he observed them, his eyes locking onto them like a predator. He glanced back at you, eyes twinkling with an unspoken invitation to join his little game.

He pointed to a nearby pile of discarded props—a plastic knife, an old hatchet—and mimed bringing one to his own throat in a dramatic, mock “death.” You swallowed hard, understanding his dark humor and feeling an unsettling thrill as you picked up the hatchet, just as he’d indicated.

The two of you approached, silent as shadows. Art’s movements were a silent ballet of mischief, his clownish grin widening with every step. Just as the group began to notice you, he stepped forward, motioning for their attention with a dramatic bow.

“Hey! That’s some costume, man!” one of them laughed, clapping. Art returned the applause with exaggerated enthusiasm, his eyes never leaving his “audience.”

One of the onlookers, a guy dressed as a vampire, turned to you, taking in your matching costume. “You two planned this together, huh?” he chuckled, not noticing the wicked gleam in Art’s eyes.

Art clapped his hands, bringing them together in a loud snap, signaling the “show” to begin. He picked up his plastic knife and slashed it in the air, making everyone laugh, completely oblivious to the underlying menace in his movements. You joined in, swinging the fake hatchet around in a mock horror-movie fashion, your heart pounding as you played along with his twisted performance.

Art’s “audience” continued to laugh and cheer, completely charmed by the silent clown act, until he reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out something glinting in the firelight. This was no toy. He brought the blade to his lips, shushing everyone with one finger before he glanced at you, waiting.

For a moment, everything hung in the air, silent and still. Then, without warning, Art lunged forward, a blur of movement as the laughter turned to screams. The once-lighthearted crowd scattered, scrambling to escape. You could feel the madness in the air as you watched him, realizing you were the only one left standing.

Art returned to your side, his grin impossibly wide, eyes sparkling with a manic glee. He gave a slow, mocking bow, offering you the knife. In that moment, you understood—he wanted you to take his place, to be the twisted performer, to join in his nightmare fully. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the knife in your hand, the thrill and terror of his world settling over you as the Halloween night grew darker.

Hand in hand, both of you faded into the night, leaving behind the chaos you’d created, blending into the shadows like a haunting duet. You weren’t just his victim tonight; you were his partner, his mirrored reflection, a twisted pair reveling in Halloween’s darkest hours.

---

[ozzgin]

LETS 👏GIVE 👏Y/N 👏SOME 👏LOVE👏

This is gonna be nearly impossible in real life but the anime has tons of non logical stuff SO...

Please make a HC of Modern Y/N meets prehistoric Y/N ��

Cause you know how somewhere in the earth someone could possibly be your twin?

That situation but in different timelines 😭🙏 perhaps maybe Modern Y/N is part of the science team and is SHOOK

Make the impossible POSSIBLE BEGGING

Y’all this is such a whole new level of meta-

I had to sit down and figure out how to even write this. Third person of (Y/N) variations? Second person except you never know which you is you? But I might sail forward with the latter, with the little twist that one line is yours, and the other one is yours. You get to decide. Pick your timeline or don’t pick at all and just be both.

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Reader meets Modern! Reader

Featuring the Baki characters, you and you. (With a surprise you appearance)

“You never mentioned you had a long lost twin, (Y/N)” your coworker comments playfully. You return a hesitant laugh without looking away from your monitors. He has a point, the resemblance is uncanny. Save for the impressive size difference, every other feature down to the finest detail is eerily similar…no, more like identical to yours. There has to be a rational explanation but your mind is blank. Who the hell are you looking at? One of the screens flashes a loud notification and you jolt at the sudden disturbance. They’re waking up.

Your eyes are burning and the surroundings are blurry. You can almost feel your bones creaking as you groggily lift yourself up. There’s a faint tug at your skin and you touch around for the source. Long, thick threads seem to be attached to the surface of your body. Roots? Some sort of creature? You’d rather not wait to find out, so you swiftly rip them off. You hear a groan next to you and as you turn, your vision begins to return some clarity. Pickle is rubbing his face in irritation but immediately calms down once he sees you’re with him. At least you’re not alone. Although it doesn’t change the fact you don’t know where you are.

“Amazing”. Several people murmur in chorus as you stare down, towards the ancient creatures. You’d share their excitement if you weren’t so entranced and afraid by the view of a person that’s almost a perfect copy of you. You touch the double glass and wonder if perhaps you’ve been glancing at your own reflection all along. You don’t have to mull over it too hard, as the prehistoric man begins to lose his patience and the security window becomes a frail obstacle in the path of his massive fists. Within seconds you’re on the ground, scrambling to avoid the shards that now spread across the lab tiles. Is this how you die?

Pickle scans the room, completely baffled by the strange machinery. He doesn’t recognize anything. Not even the humans cowering in fear before him. He would like some answers, but doesn’t know where to obtain them. Frustrated, he grinds his teeth and considers his options. He turns to search for you and his head freezes. Did you…become smaller? What are you doing on the floor? He rushes to help you up, but you yell out in fear and try to shove yourself away. A familiar growl erupts behind him. It’s you. Confused, he checks the person he’s still holding. Wait. What?

Your wrists are aching and you’re panting. You can feel your knees giving up. Is he trying to kill you? Why you, out of all the people? The Jurassic man pauses in his movement and you shyly peep over towards the commotion that distracted him. You lock your eyes with the woman and she seems to be in disbelief. Can’t blame her, really. You’ve had plenty of time beforehand to process the similarities, but it’s her first time meeting you. Is she as shocked as you were during the first encounter? And then it hits you: the man thought you’re her.

You’ve often observed your reflections in the water and have always been fascinated by the phenomenon. As far as you can tell, however, there’s no pond or river around this time. Who is the person standing next to Pickle? You exchange a quick look with your equally bewildered mate. Oh, how exhausting. This isn’t your home and that isn’t you. You don’t understand. Maybe this stranger has some answers to all this. You step forward and squat down to the level of this smaller version of you. You’ll get to the bottom of this.

The wall crashes and you slap the emergency exit button. You crawl out of the cockpit, coughing out the dust particles and fumes caused by the explosion. Did the Time Machine work? You survey your surroundings and gasp involuntarily. Is it…you? There’s a tall, toned woman kneeling before a much smaller human, but they both bear your appearance.

My partner (that proofreads everything) absolutely lost it when he saw the request and found the idea so wild he wanted to write his own thing. So hereby attached are his own headcanons. Enjoy! This was a crazy ride.

Bonus: Baki Characters but it’s all You, the Reader

You reminisce about you fighting you. How you challenged you, met you in your underground fighting arena, how you circled around you, looking for an opening into your defense. How glorious when your fist hit your face, and how your blood splattered on the ground of your arena.

You are preparing to fight you. The strongest fighter in the world is you, and you are your son. If you want to have any chance of defeating you, you will have to become even stronger than you. So you train, every week, every day, every hour. In your basement you are facing yourself, so that one day you can stand in front of you instead.

You couldn’t believe your ears when you called from the survey site. In the salt, you found you fighting yourself, in the shape of a T.Rex. Reviving you after millions of years would further prove your spot as the number one scientist.

You feel yourself exiting your body, flying through the cold air. You rudely land on yourself lying among the trash bags. The unpleasant feeling wakes you up. Upon waking, you demand your clothes. You put them on, even though they barely fit your muscular body. You exit your alleyway, walking through the crowd of you. You stand out from yourself, so you spot yourself immediately.

[sunderingstars]

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ NAME & ETYMOLOGY ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: analysis, waxing poetic, theory, interpretation, an ungodly amount of research, elation!sampo, doll!sampo

— word count: 2k

— overview: a deep dive into sampo koski’s name, etymology, and motifs, bringing in cultural and literary symbolism to assess for an elation-centered identity.

— nerd time 😎

— references: the honkai: star rail official wiki, wikipedia, general search results

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ FIRST NAME ⌝

Sampo’s first name is interesting, to say the least. After reading through the Wikipedia page for the Finnish mythological artifact he’s named after, I struggled to make any meaningful connection between him and the Elation writ large. The Sampo, according to Finnish mythology, is a magical device made by the blacksmith Ilmarinen (a god) to bring “riches and good fortune to its holder” (Wikipedia). The Official Honkai: Star Rail Wiki further narrows this down to a magical device “capable of producing infinite gold, salt, and flour.” 

At first glance, this seems to only be about Sampo’s obsession with money. The man does have a penchant for obtaining and selling artifacts, as well as obtaining riches and “good fortune” for himself. However, the Sampo’s function in Finnish mythology is extremely specific. It has no will of its own, merely existing as a dispensary for riches — in other words, it has no agency. It exists only to dispense onto others, never itself. The Finnish epic poem Kalevala even depicts the Sampo as being stolen and later destroyed, which doesn’t match with the full-fledged character we have in HSR. 

(Miscellaneous note: The Sampo has also been widely interpreted as a “world pillar,” or more relevantly for HSR, the Finnish equivalent of a “world tree.” To me, this would suggest godly origins.)

However, there are a few specific theories I feel could fit the bill. For one, an Aha!Sampo that has reduced Their power and taken mortal form for whichever reason may be considered “broken” in a way, or an Aha!Sampo who is still capable of dispensing unending Elation (infectious enthusiasm) onto others may be a strong link to “infinite gold, salt, and flour.” Additionally, Aha might be considered “broken” if They have split Themselves into different beings or consciousnesses.

An Emanator!Sampo may be in a similar position — able to dispense “infinite” Elation at the behest of Aha, but still caught up in a conflict of identity between mortal and god, perhaps eventually leading to a “broken” state of consciousness.

(Alternatively, an Elation!Sampo may be using his mortal form as a kind of “mask,” one that may “break” later in the story when his true identity is revealed.)

The theory I feel fits best with this is my new emerging favorite, though: Doll Theory. In Doll Theory, Sampo is considered to be the direct manifestation of the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence: a doll, created by Aha in Their own likeness, meant to be broken at Their whim, to bleed Elation and wealth.

The Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence is eerily similar to the function of the Sampo in Finnish mythology. First, the toy was constructed by a higher being (Aha as an Aeon, Ilmarinen as a god) to dispense “riches and good fortune” onto those around it (the Finnish Sampo does this in a more passive way, while the toy needs to be physically beaten in order to grant Cosmic Fragments). In the Elation path for Swarm Disaster, the toy even physically breaks, its head blowing up to award 500 Cosmic Fragments to the player. In my opinion, this would serve as a direct link to the destruction of the Sampo in Finnish mythology. 

For Doll Theory, the name “Sampo” has so many more implications — creation, loss of agency, purpose. Sampo isn’t just a “certified relic agent.” He’s a relic himself, meant to be toyed with at a moment’s notice at the whim of his creator. The riches he tries so desperately to make his own are spilling out of him at a rate faster than he can process, faster than he can bleed, hemorrhaging like ichor for the pleasure of someone who delights in his pain. 

In the Kalevala, no one ever asked the Sampo its feelings. No one ever asked how it felt to be a vehicle for others’ gains, others’ prosperity, all while giving away increasing amounts of its own essence to those it barely knew. No one asked because no one thought to. It was just a relic, just an artifact. Nothing more.

But what if the Sampo felt it all? What if it was sentient throughout everything, feeling the weight of its fortune slip beyond its fingers but being unable to reach out and reclaim it? And what if the others knew? Knew, the entire time, it could feel the pain of being ripped open, of losing everything it was, but continued anyways? Even delighted in the misery? What would that make them? What would that make Them? Where exactly does the line between god and monster blur?

The Sampo would, most likely, begin to become angry, jealous, envious of the others who could so freely live their lives. Hate would take root where there once was gold, blossoming and festering and warping the walls into bone, into the decaying rot of a snake, a fading silhouette that’s been stripped down to nothing. What would be left, after everything else is taken, other than the hate? And where else would that hate direct but at the blacksmith, the one who started it all, the one who had the power to save that bleeding, hemorrhaging soul but chose not to? 

It wouldn’t be revenge, at that point. It would be justice.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ LAST NAME ⌝

“Koski” also has Finnish origins, deriving from the Proto-Finnic Koski, which means “(water) rapids” (Honkai: Star Rail Official Wiki). Again, this seems to be a bit confusing at first glance. With all the dead snake and money imagery present in Sampo’s character, it seems difficult to link water with any deeper meaning. 

However, looking at the symbolism of water in culture and literature may help alleviate this confusion. Across my forays into different websites and articles, I found several main commonalities in cultural understandings of water: life, rebirth, transformation, and purification. The literary use of water also supported this idea, as rebirth and transformation were the two meanings I saw the most.

In my opinion, this means a lot for Elation!Sampo. His last name carrying such heavy themes of not just fluidity (rapid, chaotic fluidity), but of rebirth and transformation is an indicator of something big going on. In an Aeonic sense, this transformation and rebirth is likely literal — a stripping away of Aeonic power or origin for a set amount of time to accomplish a goal. (This could also be a similar situation for a straightforward Emanator!Sampo, as there could be a direct transformation from godly status.) 

Water rapids could also point towards the tumultuous nature of fluid consciousness, whether that be split, dual or collective.

Alternatively, Doll Theory Sampo may see water as a symbol to strive for, a want to be vast and flowing and free. The snake is withering, dying, needing a breath of fresh life to resuscitate it. Water is, in many ways, a nourishing tool. Something to imbibe, to replenish, to free. Perhaps this is what Sampo wants more than anything else — to be able to make his own decisions apart from his design, to flow like a river reaching towards the sea.

Taking into account the likelihood that “Sampo Koski” is an alias in and of itself, it may even be that this is Sampo trying to forge a new identity for himself. The strings of Elation are still there, pulling his first name along with the reminder of what he was made to be, but his own will is beginning to peek through, blue against red, reminding him of his yearning to flow away, to mold a new destiny for himself in the waters of rebirth. Perhaps, if he tries hard enough, if he sacrifices and spends enough of himself on his own terms, he will reach it.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SNAKE MOTIFS ⌝

The snake, both culturally and in literature, has dual-sided meanings. On one hand, the shedding of snake skin can be seen as rebirth, transformation, immortality, and healing, while snakes as serpents are often seen as representations of temptation, trickery, and deceit. In Finnish culture, snakes were the sacred animals of Akka, the earth goddess, and on the “day of the snakes” they would rise from the soil and dance in her honor; I can’t help but see the similarities between Aha “raising” the Noblesse Worm to Emanator status, something about the imagery just seems similar (but that might just be me). Additionally, in Nordic culture the serpents Jörmungandr and Níðhöggr widely represent a chaos that reaches beyond the gods, the regenerative being of something primal and beyond fate. This is also the case for the ancient symbol of ouroboros, a snake feeding into itself to represent the constant cycle of death and rebirth.

To put it all together, snakes have many different meanings. They can be good or bad, regenerative or decaying, hopeful or spiteful. They can lie, trick, and deceive just as much as they can transform, heal, and be reborn. 

I feel this ties quite neatly into Sampo’s character. From all accounts, he is mysterious and duplicitous — he helps just as much as he hurts, leads us astray in one moment and helps us the next. Everything he does seems to have dual sides, much like the cultural and literary symbol of the snake. This cycle ties him to ouroboros, while his constant changing of appearance links him to regeneration, transformation, and rebirth. 

However, his snake symbolism is quite dead, or at least dying. Something has made it wither, strip itself down to the bone. While the duplicity of his existence is still present, it seems diluted, a far cry from what it could be or once was. The snake, reborn through shed skin, has also been reborn into a lesser version of itself, a version that seems a far cry from the great serpents of old.

Perhaps Aha has found Themself slowly becoming stagnant, restless, fading in Their own concept. If we are going off the idea that They may be “dying” by Their own means of existence, this snake would be deeply symbolic of a falling Aeon — the bones of a once-mighty creature, slowly stripping away under the self-imposed weight of Elation. The deceit, the trickery, the temptation would all slowly dwindle away until only a fraction is left, hidden in venom-tipped fangs.

Perhaps Emanator!Sampo has had his power slowly stripped over time, slowly pulled away from him by an Aeon who is beginning to lose interest in what he has to offer. Alternatively, this may be his state without the mask, without his status or his Aeonhood — a husk of his former self, decayed and rotting but determined not to go back.

And Doll!Sampo? Perhaps there is a sort of rebellion in being a dead thing, something trying to be so devoid of Elation that it slips into the black hole of Nihility. But will it ever truly succeed? Or will it simply snap back at the push of a button, at the twinge of a rubber band reaching too far beyond itself? 

It may even be an emblem of his hollowness, a mark of what was taken. There’s nothing left of him, not anymore. The meat has been stripped from his bones, the soul taken from his chest, and the only thing reminiscent of his past power is the long-dead thing coiling around him, never relinquishing itself even in death. He is trying his hardest to be the snake of rebirth, the snake of transformation and healing, but the warping spine of Elation keeps dragging him back like chains to the snake of deception, trickery, deceit. But bones have to fall away eventually. If not for the passing of time, then by the weathering of water. It’s only a matter of time.

(Bonus fun fact I found while researching: In Norse mythology, dwarves were created by the gods under the Earth, and were described as “maggots” before the gods gave them human understanding. The dwarves even took on the appearance of men! Sounds a bit familiar to the Noblesse Worm in my opinion.)

Overall, the name Sampo Koski (as well as the snake motifs present throughout his character) point towards several different meanings. There are multiple theories it can fit with, but one thing is certain: this man has something bigger going on. (And he is also being constricted and constrained by the dying bones of something far greater than he can handle, but that’s besides the point!)

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for reading to the end!

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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[manias-wordcount]

View of Paradise (Satoru Gojo x Reader) PART NINE

[𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔 𝘼𝙐]

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡 - 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟮 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 (𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘆 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗹𝗲𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗶 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲)

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 || 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 || 𝘀𝗶𝘅 || 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 || 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 || 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲…

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ��� 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

“Oh? Did I hear it was your birthday young man?”

  You turn your head at the sound of the voice. And like clockwork, your brother does too.

In front of you was the figure who almost managed to slip completely under your radar while you were busy dealing with the two men from earlier. In the moment (and the ones following afterward), you hadn't stopped to look at his face or address him. You don’t even remember if his presence fully registered in your mind before this point. But now, you’re facing him as he sits on the other side of the counter and gives your brother a pleasant, closed-eyed smile. 

And just like that, a name pops into your mind. And your lips move on your own.

  “...Geto…?”

The man tilts his head towards you, his smile never leaving his face as he nods in confirmation. He left an impression on you before. One similar to the impression you’re getting from him now. Gentle, pleasant, and nice enough. But something stands out about him. Something that you can’t quite put your finger on yet. But something that clearly got you to remember a name you had only seen once before.

It’s not a feeling you tend to get with customers. Sure, you’ve had plenty of characters walk through the door and sit in your section before. But most people you meet and serve here are unremarkable. It’s just how life is supposed to go. But with him? Something feels just a little different. Just a little bit, at least. Hmm…

“That's it. Thank you for remembering,” Mr. Geto speaks up easily in response to you saying his name. Your face starts to feel a little warm as you realize just how easily you spoke without thinking. But the man does an eerily good job quelling your embarrassment with that kind smile of his. You suppose that’s only to be expected. You’ve never met a man dressed in priestly robes before who couldn’t walk or talk the part of a welcoming and forgiving leader. But as thoughts about the man continue to flicker through your head, the stranger continues to speak- capturing your attention. “Is this…?”

Mr. Geto’s eyes open. And although his gaze is sharp and more than intense, the expression on his face is warm as he nods his head in the direction of your little brother, prompting you to say more about him. And naturally, you do. 

“He’s my little brother.” You offer up simply, with a little shrug. Mr. Geto gives another nod as you turn your eyes towards Yuuta and give him an encouraging look as you whisper, “Introduce yourself.”

At that, your brother straightens up in his seat and turns towards Mr. Geto. The hat Mr. Yaga gave him was set back down on the counter, and one hand was placed neatly in his lap while his other reached out timidly to shake the stranger’s hand.

It’s not the first time your brother has had to do this with one of your guests. You’ve been working here so long that it was inevitable that some of your regulars would eventually come to meet the little boy who only shows up when you’re working. Though your ever-so-introverted and shy little brother never seemed to get used to the occasional nosy guest wanting to meet him. Though to be fair, you don’t know how well you’d fair in his shoes without all your years of working in the service industry.

“Hello, sir…I’m Yuuta,” He says quietly, a serious yet polite look on his face. You have to stifle a laugh at your brother’s almost rigid greeting as you move away to clean and clear more dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your brother trying to shoot you a rude look out of instinct. But he quickly backed down with bright red cheeks and a wobbly, sheepish smile when Mr. Geto let out a loud laugh at his antics. He must have caught your little brother right as his little "polite in front of strangers" act slipped.

Hah, the sound of your own laughter barked in your mind. Serves you right.

“Hello Yuuta. I’m one of your sister’s customers.” Mr. Geto greets your brother back, taking his hand and shaking it. Although he looks just about mortified, your brother still finds the strength to shake Mr. Geto's hand back and let the man continue speaking. “It’s nice to meet you. So, I was wondering-”

As they begin to converse, you duck your eyes down and look toward the sink where you’re about the drop the pile of dishes in your arms into. It’s nice and clear of other items, so you take the liberty of setting the dishes down there and reaching for the handle to turn on the water. It comes out a bit hot as you start to reach for a container of dish soap and a clean sponge for scrubbing. While doing so, you made the conscious effort to keep the water’s intensity down so you would be able to hear your little brother and Mr. Geto talk while you were busy. 

What? Who said you couldn’t be nosy too? And besides, it for damn it!

“How old are you turning today, Yuuta?”

“Just turned eleven, sir.”

“Really now?” You hear Mr. Geto say with a slight laugh before continuing. “That’s a big age. Cause for some celebration, don’t you think.”

Your eyes flicker up for a moment- just for a quick check-in before you’re back to facing your work. Your hands dip into the warm water, and you click your tongue a little at the heat. It’s not too hot, but it is a little hot for your taste. Even so, it’s not unbearable. So you grit your teeth and bear it as you pluck a plate from the sink full of soapy water and begin to scrub at the few crumbs and stains left on it. With your nobody new joining your counter space and your brother distracting your only customer at the moment, you’re able to put all of your focus into getting a swift but thorough cleaning job done. And like that, one dish scrubbed, dried, and put away in its proper place turned into two dishes. And then three. And then four. And five. And so on and so forth.

In no time at all, you’re nearly done with all the cleaning for the moment. In what feels like record time too. Until the sound of Mr. Geto’s voice startles captures your attention for the second time today.

“Despicable.”

Your eyes flash upwards, ready to defend your brother at the sound of Mr. Geto’s snarl. The last uncleaned dish in your hand drops back into the sink full of water with a sound that you would never consider to be the prettiest (but at least it wasn’t broken- you know too well what that sounds like). Still, for that moment, you don’t worry about dishes or customers or your job. You worry about your brother. So in an instant, you’re straightening up to your full height, ready to get your brother as far away from this stranger who dared to talk to him that way…when you finally lay your eyes on the two of them.

Mr. Geto isn’t looking at your brother anymore. And your brother isn’t looking at him either. Instead, they’re both looking in the same direction. So you follow their eyes and find that their eyes are trained on the TV. Staring at it long and hard with sour looks on their faces. But with differing emotions.

Your brother looks saddened and disappointed. A crestfallen expression that you know so well on him. And Mr. Geto? The man looked furious. No more warm, pleasant closed-eyed smiles. No, he swapped those out for furrowed eyebrows and a furious frown so big it managed to reveal a little bit of the sharpness of his teeth. A look you never thought you would see on such a gentleman. On a priest- no less. 

But when you finally look up at the TV? You find that you can’t blame him or his anger. Because that same exact intense feeling had just begun to bubble up inside of you the second you read the breaking news headline flashing across the screen.

FIFTH GOJO TICKET WAS A FRAUD - STILL OUT THERE.

You draw in a sharp breath. It has nowhere to go as you hold it in and let it sit there. It’s heavy in your chest. Heavy in your throat. Heavy in your body altogether. Your mind races as the words of the headline repeat themselves over and over and over again. There’s a ticket still out there. Someone lied about winning a ticket. Someone forged a ticket. There’s a ticket still out there. Someone forged a ticket. There’s a ticket still out there. There’s a ticket still out there. Someone else could win. Someone else could find it.

Yuuta could find it.

You release the breath.

It comes out as a noisy gasp but you don’t care. And one quick look around the diner tells you that no one cares. Because all eyes are on the TV screen once more. All eyes are gleaming with the same emotions that you feel right now. The same emotions that are sprouting up between the breaths of precious air you had trapped in your throat when you had nowhere else to look or turn to. And the same exact progression of those feelings. Frustration and disenchament. Confusion and Realization. Excitement. Hope.

You look at your little brother.

His eyes are still trained on the screen. His expression almost unreadable as he opted to ignore the grumbles and muttered curses coming from an irate Mr. Geto behind him. Speaking of that man, he was busy stewing his anger as you watched your brother. You heard Mr. Geto spit out words like “cheater” and “liar” and “unworthy” even “monkey” under his breath as his expression darkens like a storm.

Honestly, what he’s doing right now? It’s words and behaviors that would have frightened you. Words and behaviors that would have you calling Nobara or even head chef Nanami to back your side, hoping they would serve as both backup and protection when you inevitably need to confront such an unhinged customer.

But Yuuta doesn’t pay it much mind. 

And honestly, you don’t either, despite knowing that you should. You’re far too busy watching how your little brother’s ears seem to eat up every word coming from the news story as he fiddles nervously with his fingers. He’s on that last emotion. You know him too well. You read him too well. He's your little brother after all. And he’s feeling it. He’s feeling the hope. And you hate it. You hate it so much. You hate it so fucking much.

Not because you think your brother doesn’t deserve the ticket. Not because you think you deserve to find it or that he doesn’t deserve to have hope. Out of everyone in the whole wide world, you swear it’s your brother who deserves that ticket. It’s your brother who needs that ticket. And you don’t care if there are kids out there who have less than your family. You just know your brother. And you know that the last ticket should belong to him and him alone. 

But you’re not stupid.

You know how this world works. You know that in a few minutes, another kid in some other corner of the globe will have found the ticket and will be showing it off on TV. You know that in a couple of minutes, the hope that your brother was feeling will be crushed to pieces. Utterly destroyed. Like it was last night. Like it was every single time your family spent your hard-earned money on those stupid candy bars. 

But you’re powerless to stop it. You’re powerless to stop this.

So you clench your fist by your side, and you watch your brother carefully. In the meantime, there’s a reporter on the screen- speaking about how the world is thrilled to hear that there’s still a chance to win the remaining ticket, but that the disappointment caused by the false alarm was immeasurable and that many days had been ruined when the story originally broke late last night. The entirety of the diner begins to erupt into a bit of chaos after that. It’s not like when the first boy found the ticket. There are still some skeptics among the crowd. But the excitement and chatter is impossible to ignore.

That's just how it goes though. No matter how angry you- just one girl- feel in this moment, the world keeps spinning. No matter how much you swear that after this you'll never eat a drop of chocolate from that cursed brand, the seasons will continue to change. The Gojo Candy Craze will go on until it has run its course. And it will do it without regard for your feelings or your little brothers. Your stupid selfish feelings. And his childlike, hopeful feelings. But that's just how things go.

Because there’s nothing you can do about it. Absolutely fucking nothing.

[spacius]

living in the past - dr. spencer reid: 1

Who? dr spencer reid x original female character

Where Daisy's biggest secret is revealed, not only for BAU but for the whole world.

Warnings: avengers, marvel, peter parker, far from home, snap. It takes place in 2034, Spencer is 30 years old and oc is 28. 5-year snap influence so chronologically oc is born in 2001 and Spencer in 2004 but he wasn't snapped.

“I know you’re going to say the same thing for the 38th time, Morgan,” Spencer whispered as if revealing a state secret, “but it’s not just me being paranoid. I swear, there’s something suspicious about her.”

They were ready, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive so they could head to the crime scene.

“Pretty boy, whether she’s plotting some evil plan to end the world or not, I have no idea—and honestly, I’d rather not know.” Derek grinned, trying to hold back a laugh as Spencer rolled his eyes. “But you might want to tone it down. She’s gonna start thinking you’ve got a crush on her.”

Derek was enjoying this far more than he’d ever admit. While Spencer rolled his eyes so hard they nearly completed a full circle, Penelope burst into the room, her energy frantic.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, have you seen what’s in the news? You have to see it—my God, I’m going to combust, any second now!” Penelope spoke so fast that even Derek, with all his experience, could barely keep up. Spencer, for his part, blinked, trying to process the onslaught of words.

“Garcia, slow down, we can’t—”

“Spencer Walter Reid, for the love of all things cute and fluffy, open your phone and check the news now!” she demanded, practically vibrating with urgency. She looked seconds away from strangling the youngest member of the team if he didn’t move faster. “It’s breaking news, and trust me, this will back up one of your theories!”

That was all Spencer needed. He quickly pulled out his phone, while Derek raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

A news broadcast lit up Spencer’s screen. The anchor’s voice was grave: “We come to you now with shocking revelations about 2023 attack in London. An anonymous source has provided us with this footage, reportedly from moments before Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, died twelve years ago. A warning: Some viewers may find this footage disturbing.”

The screen cut to an altered video of the Tower Bridge battle. Spencer and Derek exchanged a glance, both raising an eyebrow before turning back to the screen. Just as they were about to speak, a man’s voice—Quentin Beck’s—filled the room.

“I managed to send the Elemental back through the dimensional rift,” Beck’s voice declared. “But I don’t think I’m going to make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Woman attacked me! She has an army of weaponized drones—Stark technology! She’s claiming she’ll be the new Iron Man, and no one else!”

A robotic voice followed, colder than the woman’s: “Are you sure you want to initiate the drone attack? There will be significant casualties.”

“Do it. Execute them all,” the feminine human voice, trembling like she was on the edge of collapsing.

The footage wasn’t as graphic as what Derek, Spencer, and Penelope were used to seeing, but it was disturbing in its implications. The video cut to J. Jonah Jameson, the notorious anchor.

“There you have it, folks: conclusive proof that Spider-Woman was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio, an inter-dimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our world. He will no doubt go down as the greatest hero of our time. But that’s not all—here’s the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves.”

The bullpen seemed to freeze, no one daring to breathe.

“Spider-Woman’s real identity is… Spider-Woman’s name is Gwendolyn Stacy Parker! Gwen Parker!”

On the screen, an image of Daisy appeared—Daisy, whom Spencer had been trying to convince Derek was hiding something. But this wasn’t right. The photo, though younger, was eerily similar. Too similar.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Spencer murmured, brows furrowing. “Her name is Daisy Hawke. There’s no way she’s Gwen Parker. We would know if she had any connection to a superhero.”

“Well, that’s what I thought,” Penelope said after calming down. “But then I started digging for something that could explain this madness, and suddenly, the pieces began to fit together.”

“And here we go—Reid-splaining has officially contaminated her,” Morgan quipped.

“In 2006, New York broke the record for missing children. But here’s the strangest part: 182 children went missing in a single day. Almost all of them were found together later, but there were very few details. So, I started digging deeper into the history of Dais—Gwen—whatever she calls herself now. There’s a gap in her life between 2006 and 2010. If you think about it, she’s never really talked about her childhood. So, I kept digging. And then, I dug some more. And there it was—among the 182 children kidnapped that day: Gwendolyn Stacy Parker. I believe that’s where the beginning of the false end of her life started.” She paused to catch her breath.

“None of the victims ever spoke about what happened. Since they were just kids, this whole thing could snowball into something huge.” Penelope decided to stop there; she didn’t like imagining what might have happened to someone she cared about so much.

“I’m sorry, Derek. I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have to say this once and for all—I told you so, and I’ve never enjoyed saying it more.”

“Pretty boy’s not going to let me live this down anytime soon, baby,” Derek muttered with a grin. “But hey, does Hotch, JJ, David, Emily, and you know, Daisy, know about this?”

“No idea. With Daisy being late, she certainly knows something. She’s probably in deep trouble with the life she left behind, and if the rest of the team doesn’t know, they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“I don’t see why you’re so worried about it, Garcia.”

“You’re only saying that because you and Einstein never got along. I just—can’t imagine the pain of going through all the bad things you left behind when you were 18.”

“This about Hawke?” Hotch emerged from the shadows, his voice calm and composed. “Either way, be discreet. She’s one of our best agents, and it would be a shame to lose her. So act like she’s not a superhero.”

At that moment, the trio had confirmation that everyone knew, and they knew Daisy knew they knew, but no one would talk about it for a long time.

About 20 minutes had passed, and the team was already on the jet—everyone except Daisy, of course. Hotch had mentioned earlier that she had “encountered some personal issues and wasn’t cleared for this case.”

Out of everyone on board, Rossi was the most unsettled. He shifted in his seat, clearly itching to talk. If he didn’t get this out, it seemed like he might burst. “Hey, Emily,” he leaned over and nudged her arm subtly, “did you hear… about Daisy?” His curiosity was so obvious that it almost made her smirk.

“Dave, keep it cool,” Prentiss muttered, barely moving her lips. “I want to talk about it later, too.” Oh, Lord, Daisy's ear definitely would be hot.

Aqui está o texto adaptado para o estilo e os personagens de Criminal Minds:

“The case was solved in two weeks, and the BAU team quickly returned to Quantico. Most of them were too exhausted to think about the incident involving Daisy, but Spencer Reid didn’t fit into that majority. Being the genius he is, the details lingered in his mind throughout the case, often making it difficult for him to concentrate on his work.

Could it really be the same person? The face was undeniably similar — if not identical. The only difference was the hair color; Gwen had red hair while Daisy had brown. She must have spent a lot on hair dye.

Spencer preferred to believe they were different people. He didn’t like to admit it to himself, but at that moment, he wanted to be wrong. He hoped that all the times he had sensed something off about Daisy, that she was hiding something, were just his imagination. With his genius IQ, he would surely notice if she were, of all things, a superhero, right? Oh, when he saw her the next day, they would need to have a serious conversation.

Reviews and advice are welcomeaised voices and accusations in years.

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

criticism and advice are welcome