#my brain is actively being gnawed away at

[tubbytarchia]

My very not so condensed overview as to why Mizakai is such a nuanced #deep Yugioh pairing (AKA Mizakai propaganda)

Mizakai is really fucking good and I need everyone to understand this

If anyone out there is on the fence about Mizakai please allow me to convince you to the best of my ability

Right off the bat, Mizael is supposed to be fighting for the Barian World yet he focuses on his rivalry with Kaito instead from their first encounter, and why was Kaito there anyway? An average viewer might say it was because they're both Galaxy-Eyes users but WRONG it was Mizael's homosexual pull. Shark was literally rearing up to duel Mizael when Yuma no longer could but then Kaito flew in like "no, me". And let me remind you how Zexal I ended: Kaito proclaimed that he had no reason to duel once Haruto was safe - he only ever dueled for him - to fight, while Yuma taught him how to duel for fun. And Kaito's first proper appearance in Zexal II where he duels is the episode he turns up to face some gay sassy blond when he didn't need to. So a bunch of homosexual banter, bla bla, and at the very end before their duel can conclude, as the last thing, Mizael gives Kaito his name

What happens the next time they meet? Kaito calls out his name <3

Anyway Sargasso time!!! All the Barians put into effect a card that causes damage to every player, but they also each have a card to protect themselves from said damage. Mizael however doesn't use it, because he wants an even fighting ground with Kaito. Later, when they observe Yuma having an epic 13yo breakdown for awhile, at some point Kaito decides 'that's enough of that' and instead asks Mizael "where are you looking?" (ep 98) like ok sir. Don't forget that Kaito and Yuma are literally friends too but this ain't about Yuma!! He can deal with this extremely traumatizing event on his own, Kaito's given him enough encouragement already

So Mizael is just soooo down bad and so desperate to just finish ONE singular duel with Kaito and is doing everything he can to make that happen. So naturally after killing 2 children, an autism creature and Kaito's ex, he goes to the Moon to duel Kaito because this matter simply can't wait. But he had the right idea because this is just the right place to duel anyway, and tension is significantly stronger in space than it is on Earth!

Que Kaito telling Mizael of his past as Mizael struggles to come to terms with it. As he is conflicted though, Kaito sees right through him and understands him better than he himself could. All this time Mizael was seeking to duel Kaito to prove that he's the real dragon tamer, when in this duel, as Kaito is dying, he without hesitation declares Mizael the true dragon tamer without Mizael having to beat him, or before the duel even concludes (which Mizael simply cannot fathom). And as practically a dying wish, Kaito asks "Mizael, if we were to meet again, wouldn't you tell me, what happened to you?" before he makes the finishing blow and yet, kind of reverses the odds as he ends up dying instead of Mizael despite every other duel ending in the death of the person that lost. Kaito in his dying moments breathed so much wind into Mizael's wings for him to "keep fighting for what you believe in".

But what does Mizael believe in? Well, Kaito was teaching him to believe in people just as he had been taught to. Mizael might have been the true dragon tamer, but in his pursuit trusted no one but dragons. He was raised by a dragon before his people failed him, and seeing as they had, Tachyon then protected Mizael from any further evil of mankind. As Tachyon can seal up into a weird bento box, seemingly shielding itself in the process, it shielded Mizael. How could Mizael ever accept that Tachyon was his curse? But Tachyon had been cursed by Don, just as Mizael had. No matter what they fought for then as a result, they stuck together of their own beliefs. But what made Tachyon Mizael's curse was that it stopped Mizael from moving on from the past. Even as time passed (and even if Barians don't age), Mizael's mindset never changed until Kaito came in to reap him of this shield that Mizael had put up. With Tachyon's effect of rewinding time, Mizael hoped to change the past, but Kaito showed him a future, thus removing his curse

Kaito taught Mizael that he was (or even is) human, a fact that Mizael does not want to accept one bit, literally shown visually as Mizael is forced into his human form, in rage then transforms back into his Barian form, only to be reduced back to his human form by the end anyway. And note that he STAYS in this form, he doesn't change back again!! Which is especially driven home when you see Nasch literally right there, Mizael's last surviving comrade, and yet he stays in his human form, as if to show that he is paving his own path now. And he is, because he's free of his curse. He's technically still a Barian but in a metaphorical sense, his curse has been lifted thanks to Kaito. Mizael was still fighting for the Barian World even if his focus shifted to some blondie, but in his final duel, he isn't dueling for the Barians, he's only dueling for himself. He gives it his very best shot to defeat Don on his own terms and, you know, despite the bullshit that Don pulls, Mizael doesn't look all that upset to die. I think that even as he was dying, he had found some fulfilment and was content to leave the rest to Nasch and Yuma

And speaking of Yuma - in his dying breaths, Kaito bestows Numeron Dragon onto Mizael (And don't forget that character A giving character B their card is basically a marriage proposal in Yugioh. Even within Zexal, think Yuma/Trey and Yuma/Shark among other instances). What does Mizael then do? He bestows the card on Yuma - The person who had taught Kaito to believe in people, just as Kaito had now taught Mizael. Sometimes Zexal is so beautiful in how it comes full circle, it makes me want to cry, and Mizakai comes in SUCH a circle it is INSANE.

When Kaito had nothing to defend anymore, he lost his reason to duel - but he refused to let Mizael lose his reason, even as Mizael had lost everyone except for Nasch, and so Mizael found a reason to duel (by virtue of finding what he really believed in)

I couldn't find a better place to put this but also just how visually beautifully tragic it is that Mizael, who can't for the love of him stop yapping, in his endless stubbornness, cannot bring himself to say anything as Kaito dies right before him with a smile on his face. All Mizael can do then is cry

So of course Mizakai would be a goldmine in a post-zexal scenario too. I'm gonna yap about more headcanons rather than canon stuff but bear with me

Two characters mending together is always such good hurt/comfort shit but ohhh my god Mizakai... Compare Mizael's and Kaito's traumas and imagine how they would handle them in one another's presence. Mizael would probably project an immense amount of his frustration onto Kaito subconsciously or otherwise, but with how understanding Kaito was, his patience to deal with it must be limitless. Mizael seeks the Kaito that would challenge him - just as Kaito would challenge him to duels in Zexal II, he wants Kaito to challenge what he says, and it would take time for him to adjust to the fact that Kaito isn't some miracle noble being - he's human just like Mizael, as selfless and self-sacrificing as he is, and what he did or does for Mizael is from this tangible human care - something Mizael needs time to come to grips with, as he's still new to this whole "being human (again)" thing. Another wonderful place to bring up the Galaxy-Eyes', as Mizael is just as "noble" as Kaito. He always fought for what he believed in but he got lost along the way with the cursed Tachyon, whereas Kaito chose Photon (who was always pure and never cursed) to fight alongside him (even if he acted somewhat selfishly in taking people's souls etc, he was doing it for someone he loved) (harkening back to the idea of Kaito freeing Mizael from his curse (and the idea that Mizael's curse was his own personal dilemma, not the fact that he was a Barian, even if that was the case literally speaking)). In the end they both had their Galaxy-Eyes' to ensure that they were never truly fighting alone, even with Don's curse in Mizael's case. Just as they valued an even fighting ground in duels, Kaito wants to even it now too to stop Mizael from putting him up on a pedestal to such a degree that it frustrates him, because they're really not so different

Anyway Kaito is a sickly little victorian man, seeing how bad of a state he was in all throughout Zexal and especially by the Moon duel. You could argue that the Numeron Code is perfect and would bring everyone back in a perfect state, but I say there is no perfection, nothing is ever "perfect", as everything is always in motion and changing (but that's getting too semantic and philosophical (but then, what is Yugioh if not that?)). If the Numeron Code really did bring everything back "perfectly", wouldn't it erase the character's traumas and stuff too, instead of just bringing them back to good physical health? So my point is, Kaito is still a sickly little victorian man, but fighting is all he knows. This plays into why he went out to duel Mizael as well - it's... all he knows!! He needs to fight and if there's nothing to fight then he works. Just as he was denied rest or nourishment in his training and number hunting, he is hardwired to deny those things to himself. But now imagine how it makes Mizael feel, when he sees Kaito tired or even fainted. He absolutely cannot allow Kaito to die again (even if Kaito is sure that this photon illness aint gonna get the best of him), because he already struggles to forgive himself for what he did.

Kaito doesn't know all of his past, yet it damn near feels like he knows everything about Mizael, and did everything for him, even arguably dying in Mizael's stead. What else would Mizael want to do but to return the favor? To want to learn about Kaito and to be able to understand his troubles, and not only help care for him physically but also help him deal with past trauma once he begins to get over his own. Mizael, who is so deeply emotional and vocal practically forces his troubles upon Kaito, but as he starts to figure himself out, he convinces Kaito to talk to him, and shows him that it's okay for him to be emotional. Because Kaito very much suppresses his emotions and would rather bury his troubles at the back of his mind rather than deal with them healthily. He's much more prone to making quick easy decisions and adjustments for the sake of others, like for example forgiving his father because it's easier than not, even though he has a lot of complicated feelings that he just refuses to dwell on

Basically they switch roles lol and there's just something really beautiful and poetic about that. Even if that way, Mizael ends up adopting this selfless patience that so greatly frustrated him about Kaito in the beginning

Kaito had never once stopped fighting for the people he loved, until Mizael came around and Kaito made the choice of his own volition to face him. But when did anyone really dedicate themselves to Kaito that same way? Well, Mizael sure would!! And Kaito likes how tangible Mizael makes him feel through affirmation and touch - grounded in the reality that he himself seems to be at a disconnect with, the same reality that he brought Mizael to. He reaped Mizael of his shield and basically forced him into this new ironically alien world, but he was here for Mizael to land safely, and Mizael wants to be there to help him stay grounded. If Kaito needed a friendly face in Heartland Tower to make it bearable to even still be there, or if he needed someone to give him a reality check mid breakdown, or if he needed someone to bring him coffee and carry him to bed, then Mizael would be that someone

In conclusion:

[adnauseum11]

Listening Post (John Price x Reader)

John goes M.I.A, and all is not as it seems at first.

900 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

You’re starting to get worried. It’s out of character for John to ignore you. Even when he was still on active duty, he would tell you if he was going to be in the field. He’d never compromise himself with any details but he’d at least let you know he was away. And he always let you know when he was back on grid, his simple ‘back here’ text enough to reassure you that he had made it home once again. You stand in your kitchen, gnawing a thumbnail and obsessively looking at your phone. 

He wasn’t in the field any more, and he shouldn't be away, you had plans to do Trivia Thursday night this week at the pub. He would have told you if he had left town. If you weren’t dating the wretched man, you would send him a text about being a miserable bastard and try him again the next day to see if his mood had improved. 

You scroll back in your texts, checking the timestamps. He’s never let a text go unanswered all day before. What kind of trouble could an ex-SAS Captain possibly get in to? He can take care of himself. Surely, he’s fine. He’s been in his share of fights. If the cops had picked him up for something, you would have got wind of it, you’re certain. You’re trying to convince yourself to remain calm, annoyingly something that’s normally John’s job between the two of you. 

You realize you’re going to spend the evening standing in the kitchen, agonizing in silence, so you resolve to sort the situation out one way or another. You pull on your jacket, thumbing through your phone to a ride share app. You find yourself in front of John’s flat less than 20 minutes later. His car is there, and instead of making you feel better you get a sinking sensation in your stomach. At least if he was away, you could tell yourself he was busy. Now it looks like he’s just dodging you. 

You let yourself in using the key he gave you years ago, knocking gently and calling for him. Nothing. No signs of life in the kitchen or living room. His neat flat looks immaculate. You’re heading down the hall when you hear low groaning. A flame of anger licks at your belly and you have to keep yourself from stomping the rest of the way down the hall. 

If he’s cheating on you before you’ve even had sex, you’re going to string him up by his balls. If you have to pay to find someone who knows how to do that, you will. It will be worth it – 

By the time you clear the doorway, you’ve convinced yourself of what you’re going to find. Even brace for it, your face screwed up into a wince. So, when it’s just John, sweating buckets and groaning in pain in the middle of his bed it takes you a full ten seconds to reboot your brain.

“What’s wrong?” You’re leaning over him, not bothering with pleasantries or admonishments now, running your hands over his face and chest with anxious movements. You’re instinctively looking for a wound of some sort before you can process your own actions. He squints at you, grabbing your hands and covering his eyes with your palms, curling towards you.

“My fucking head. Holy shit.” His voice is like gravel, and you wonder how long he’s been like this if he’s openly admitting to what ails him. You’re crawling into the bed, moving on autopilot despite never having seen him like this. John’s misery does not like company, thanks very much. But it seems those old rules of engagement for you both are shifting. You’re pillowing his head on your thighs, curling over him protectively and making sympathetic noises softly. As relieved as you are he’s not up to anything nefarious, guilt at it being a thought at all is hot on its heels.  

“A migraine?” 

He confirms with the tiniest tilt of his head, pressing his cheek into your thigh while you gently cup his forehead. He’s burning hot, sweaty to the touch. You’re stroking a palm over his hair slowly, easing him off your lap so you can run around his flat, gathering anything you can think of that might help - ice water in a bowl with a facecloth, a bottle of water, fruit from the bowl in his kitchen. He’s groaning again by the time you get back and arrange everything on his bedside table. 

You spend the rest of the night playing nurse, finally able to get more information out of the miserable man on what might make him feel better. The cool cloth helps, as does the darkness and gently stroking his scalp. You’re able to get him to lightly doze after a few hours of concentrated efforts. Grateful for the small stash of clothes and essentials John insisted you bring over a few days prior, you keep one eye on your sleeping patient while you change into pajamas. The thought of leaving him alone like this makes your stomach drop and your skin crawl, as does the slow realization he’s likely been dealing with these episodes alone for some time. 

You manage to crawl back into bed without disturbing him, resuming your slow stroking passes over his scalp. Your insides are wobbling dangerously, like you might fall into a heaving cry at any moment. You’re supremely grateful when exhaustion takes over, silencing any and all thoughts. 

Next Chapter

[year2000electronics]

Your fiddleford monster au design makes me have so many questions in a good way. Gnawing on the bars on my enclosure kind of way. Does the curse seemingly not affect him in his one year stay helping Ford, and so he does that all himself? Does The Curse, as vague as it is, count that; and drive people to modify themselves and draw away from humanity? Like its not just this magical effect that happens but an active thing in the back of your mind to turn away from what you were born as and embrace something else? Ogh. I'm suddenly a lot more invested in this au

VERY INTERESTING QUESTIONS TO BE CERTAIN so fiddleford is a bit of a unique case where his "monster" theming is tied directly to his decline yes!

full answer under the cut it got long

in my mind, monster falls' curse is tied directly to gravity falls' natural law of weirdness magnetism/"the barrier" keeping bill in. once youve stayed there long enough for the curse to even BEGIN, it becomes harder to leave the town. you just feel drawn to it, and a dull ache in your soul if you leave. so obviously, when ford gets turned into a mothman, he does fully accept that because hes always felt more cryptid than man. but when the time comes for him to ask fiddleford for help, he lays out that "hey, youd be doing me a BIG favour if you came to help with the portal, but this town curses you if you stay for too long so itll only be a few weeks, i promise"

fidds agrees, because hey, whats a few weeks with an old friend? besides, he'll have his wife and son as an anchor to go back to. but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes staying with ford, the more he's reminded of those old times, and the more the curse starts influencing those kinds of thoughts to get louder and louder (but its not ALL the curse you know. still some autonomy in the situation) and so he keeps postponing his return date, almost "tempting fate" about the curse, because he doesn't really feel any different! his friend sprouted wings and antennae! he'd know by now, so he won't check! and ford shrugs and is like "well, alright, it's your choice, we can surely get a little closer to the point of no return"

and yknow, fiddleford denying that the curse could possibly be affecting him is almost like him in canon struggling to reconcile with his two "lives"- his home life and his life with ford. he wants to have his cake and eat it too, because he's just too timid to ever say no.

anyways, one day he wakes up and realizing he's heard the sound of technology near him for a while, and looks around, and realizes it's following him from room to room-

the beeping IS him. it's definitely been a year, he's already been cursed. it's just that he's a robot that looks near-human, just near-human enough that he could turn a blind eye to it and pretend like it never happened and that everything was fine. which i think kinda suits how ford loves the supernatural to a very personal degree, meanwhile fidds got roped into the town by pure happenstance

but. yknow, being a robot that looks human means youre still a robot. and it's a lot harder to erase things from a robot's "brain" without causing some major problems. haven't you ever been programming something or filling out an html code, and then you accidentally delete one thing you thought was inconsequential and all of a sudden youre staring at just a wall of code that's busted because whatever you removed, you DEFINITELY SHOULD NOT HAVE removed?

parts of fiddleford just go kaput and start breaking because he's purposely taking out large chunks of code from his own brain that end up being collateral from the memory gun. because, yknow, the memory gun is imprecise! it was designed for human brains! cos thats what fidds was for years! so it's like if you tried to repair a computer by ripping out the motherboard with pliers

thats my take on it anyways. Ya

[slashers-and-rats]

You know those kandi bracelets? Slashers being gifted these bracelets. I saw someone write about this once and it hasn’t left my brain since

rat chat: dude i love those bracelets!! if they didn’t distract me so much i’d wear them more often.

Slashers Receiving Kandi Bracelets from GN!Reader

featured slashers: billy lenz, jason vorhees, micheal myers

Billy Lenz :

i think this would be one of billy’s favourite gifts ever!!

you’d give him something chunky, with blue and green beads and little kitty charms, and maybe some squishy rubber bobbles thrown on too. for awhile, he’d just roll it around in his palms and not even wear it. he’d just feel up the textures and listen to the way it jingled in his hands. it’s really a stim thing for him, i think he’d really enjoy using it to fidget with.

he’s feral, he’d chew on it too. you’d catch him wearing the bracelet, gnawing on it without even thinking about it. whenever he’s focused on something, or you aren’t in the mood to be his chew toy, he’d use the bracelet instead.

he’d never take it off. it’s his now, why would he? plus YOU gave it to him. that makes it even more special. no, he’d always wear it, and when he doesn’t have it on, it would be tucked away into a pocket. he keeps it as close to him as possible.

billy would wanna make new ones too. it would become a little activity for you both to bond over. you’d buy cool beads and pieces, and bring them home, and watch him sort through them all and find the stuff he likes. and then you would make a bracelet for him, and he’d make a matching one for you.

he’d want you two to match. you’d have the same bracelet except in your favourite colours, or maybe with your initials on them. if you managed to get him out of the house, he’d make you wear it, so people knew you were all his.

Jason Vorhees :

jason would definitely see it as a craft for you two to do together. you’d bring up one day that you missed making friendship bracelets at summer camp, and that you’d bought all the stuff to make some. you two would sit for a bit, and once you’ve finished the one you made for him, he’d wear it everywhere.

jason loves seeing you happy he’s wearing it. that’s his favourite part. whenever he’s outside, cutting wood for your fire pit, and you see the big shiny beading sparkling in the sun, you get so excited. and he sees it. he’ll be watching from the corner of his eye, smiling underneath his mask, all proud that he’s making you so smily.

jason would tie it to his belt loop if he couldn’t wear it. maybe he’s working with power tools or the like, and can’t have loose things hanging off of his arms, so he’d connect it to his pants. he wants to keep it on him, since it’s a nice little reminder of you.

you catch him playing with it a lot. his bracelet has red and black beads, and charms that look like little hearts. you’d have put his initials on it too, and it took you awhile to make it fit his thick wrist right. you’d only make him one or two, since bracelets weren’t really his thing, but he’d appreciate them nevertheless.

he has more fun making them for you, actually. you’d have dozens from him. while you were out doing errands or work, he’d be at home making you little bracelets in his free time. you’d come home and they’d be lined up, all decorated in your favourite colours and charms. he just likes making you things, i think.

Micheal Myers :

very confused by the concept at first. micheal isn’t the biggest on jewellery, obviously, and tends to keep pretty plain in what he wears. when you suddenly give him something so chunky and bright, he’s a little off put.

at first, he doesn’t wear it. he’s not trying to insult you at all. you can see it in the breast pocket of his jumpsuit, and he always makes sure to take it out and put it on the nightstand beside the bed before he takes his things off for the night. he cherishes it, since it’s from you, but it’s harder for him to get used to.

once you make a matching bracelet, and start wearing it around so that he notices, he starts wearing it much more often. he never mentions it either. you just see him one day wearing it with you, and when you try to say something, he just covers your mouth and continues whatever he’s doing. he gets flustered when he’s called out on his sweeter actions.

the one you make for you both is navy blue and white, and has little skulls and knives hanging off of it. the beads spell out “y/n + micheal” in sparkly bubble letters. that’s his favourite part. he never really got that sweet teenage romance phase, so getting to do silly little things like this make his heart flutter.

i think he’d also use it as a fidget thing. i think when he’s anxious, maybe out running errands without his mask, he’d be rubbing at the charms in his pocket to keep himself calm. he’d like having a little reminder of you close to him, since you make him feel safe.

[zweiginator]

seeing the words law student and patrick has awakened something in me. academic rival patrick in general has me gnawing at my enclosure.

i’m just imagining him being academically gifted the way he is with tennis. like he never puts any real effort into perfecting his craft but he’s just naturally and intuitively so good at it!! you normally wouldn’t mind something like that but he’s so goddamn cocky you can’t stand it!!

i know that coasting on talent would never fly in law school but for our fictional purposes let’s pretend like that would work

also imagining working on a group project with patrick and he’s SO laid back because he knows he’ll be able to get his part of the project done with ease and you being super stressed about him not pulling his weight. he finds your stress hilarious and is actively trying to find ways to distract you from getting your own work done.

i will be thinking about academic rival patrick for a very long time. thank you for putting this in my brain.

lawstudent!patrick who loves to see you riled up. he likes how mad you get, how you yell at him and call him names. maybe he's a masochist but a pretty smart thing like you spitting insults at him and saying he's worthless in the context of your group project really gets him going.

he'd never tell you that, and you just think he doesn't take you seriously. but it all comes to a head when he's watching tv on your couch on full volume while you're trying to outline cases and you snap at him again, telling him to fucking focus for once.

"jesus, chill out. we'll get it done." patrick shoves more popcorn into his mouth and you didn't even realize he's eating your food.

"patrick!" you stand up and grab the remote. he grabs it back, lifting it above his head as he stands up. you try to reach it by standing on the couch, but patrick grabs you by the waist and pins you down on the couch.

"we have to--" you begin to scold him again but the way he's looking down at you like you're nothing like a thing for him to play with is making you feel weird. in a good way, weird.

"we have to what?" he pushes a strand of hair away from your face. patrick's fingers brush against the waistband of your pajama pants.

you feel his erection, stiff against your cunt, still covered by his sweatpants.

"jesus christ--whatever." you yank the hem of his shirt and pull him into you. "i fucking hate you."

[nevermorgue]

How would Duke calm Pluto from a panic attack in the modern au?

Oh my god your brain is large. Pluke comfort moments omg. Let's see... - If they're in public, Duke's first goal is to bring him somewhere that isn't so public. Or the closest place to where they are that he knows Pluto can be more relaxed in, a familiar, frequently visited spot. - Pluto feels like his vision shuts down when he has a panic attack. His head hurts, and his one eye feels overwhelmed by everything around him. His vision feels spotty, and he ends up having to lean on Duke. - Duke, in turn, hesitantly touches him with one hand. He starts with the shoulder. If well received/allowed, he will gently take him by the hand and lead him somewhere, talking about nonsense to keep Pluto grounded with his voice. Sometimes he won't even speak English- just being heard can be enough of a distraction. - Other times, Duke will quite literally pick him up to move him faster. He only does this during moments where Pluto physically refuses to let go of him. Other times, Pluto will actively try to push away, feeling suffocated and like the world is closing in on him. - Once they're in a more quiet space, he tests touch again. He will offer physical comfort if Pluto starts it or responds positively to it in the moment. He keeps his voice low, his breathing loud and heavy. A neat trick when it comes to people is that sometimes, they'll instinctively mimic the person in front of them. So eventually, Pluto will copy his breathing. - Duke will point out things. Sights, sounds, smells...and he will ask Pluto to repeat them back to him. He takes deep breaths between each word, keeping his expression and overall demeanor calm despite his gnawing worry. If he is calm, Pluto is more likely to become calm as well. - During moments when Pluto refuses touch and needs distance, Duke just makes sure to keep in his line of sight instead. He keeps his body language relaxed, his hands in his pockets to indirectly influence Pluto's brain into slowing down a bit. - It happens enough that they have a pretty good system. Keeping Pluto focused on his surroundings and whatever Duke ie saying is one of the preferred methods. If Pluto stays in his head or is given the opportunity to overthink, it gets worse. Duke's yapping helps. - They almost always go home afterward. Then its cuddling or a nap because they deserve it. - Once he knows Pluto is completely fine, he's back to being his usual jackass self. He finds it hard to stay serious for his own sake. He can only do it when others need it.

[voregeoise]

A Hunger (prototype)

Happy vore day my fellow freaks(affectionate)! I made this for ya! It started off as just experimenting with tropes I hadn't messed with before.There should be another tale out today that's far less angsty. In the meantime, enjoy this longer tale!

(Posting this draft rn, just ignore that last part)

His name was Vall. He was a Vulcanite.

Compared to his human roommate he was an odd being. Tall, two sets of arms, a pair of antennae and golden eyes. The majority of his body was almost always cloaked by wing-like extremities that were covered in a dense layer of white fur, leaving only his head with its grey keratin shell poking out the top. They were thought to once have been used to scare predators away and look less threatening on the fly. To extend them to reveal multiple limbs and appear larger. Or keep them closed to look more amiable to friends and allies. His kind were also intelligent. It was their knowledge and technological prowess that took them and humans to the local moons of their world so quickly.

But most interesting of all was their ability to halt most bodily processes. They could stop beating their heart for up to five minutes, hold their breath for almost an hour, stop digestion at a moment's notice and halt most brain activity for several minutes. It's assumed these powers evolved to avoid detection from predators thousands of years ago, and simply stuck around even after they stopped being useful.

His human roommate was a nice fellow. He was a private man, he kept to himself, sometimes to his detriment. But he liked him. He was the only person he really connected with, he was nervous around other people. He was a very close friend. A little under six feet tall, tiny compared to him who stood just over fourteen feet tall. He worked at the same job as him, at an aerospace engineering firm. They had met years ago. And now shared they a home together. Their lives were good. Everything was fine, that was until he started having episodes.

He was sleeping when it first happened. He was awoken by an agonizing, gnawing hunger. It felt like had had been starved for weeks. He had eaten only a few hours ago. Why did he feel so hungry? It hurt terribly. He winced and groaned in agony. He tried not to cry, but the pain made in difficult to keep himself together. Thankfully this racket managed to wake his friend.

"Are you okay?"

"No! Fuck, that hurts. I need you to get me something to eat. Grab as much as you can hold and bring it to me!"

"What do you want?"

"I don't care damnit! I said to get me something to eat! Grab any-"

His yelling was cut off by him collapsing to the ground from a sudden intensification of the pain. He clutched his middle, writhing in agony. He heard his roommate run downstairs to the kitchen. A minute later he heard the door open and in walked his friend with as much food as he could carry. He picked himself up and made a beeline strait for him.

He snatched it out of his hands and scarfed it down. In only a minute or two he ate enough food to last him a few days. He didn't even chew. He couldn't wait that long, he needed to pain gone now.

When he finished eating he collected himself. What just happened? Why was he so hungry? What was wrong with him? He turned to his friend, he had a shocked look on his face. There was an awkward silence before either spoke.

"A-Are you okay?"

"No?"

"What happened?"

"I don't know! I just felt like I was starving."

"What do we do?"

"I-I think we should go to the hospital."

A speedy trip to the doctor gave few answers. They figured out that he wasn't actually starving, his brain just thought he was. They had no answer for why this happened, the only idea that they had was that it may have been a mental breakdown. But that didn't make sense, he was mentally well, happy and wasn't stressed. But that was their only idea. They didn't know what possibly could have happened. They could only hope it was one off.

It wasn't.

-------

Two months later it happened again. He was sprawled out on the couch a few feet from his friend. He was scrolling through social media when suddenly it struck. A stabbing pain, far, far worse then last time. It felt like hell. Thankfully his friend knew what was happening. Just like last time he ran to go grab something for him to eat. And just like last time he scarfed it down in only a minute. But it wasn't enough, he still felt like he was starving. The food barely numbed the pain enough for him to get up and run to the fridge himself. His roommate looked on in horror as he tore through everything in there.

--------

It was late. And they were out of food. They had had guests over last night. His roommate was supposed to go to the store but everything was closed. He'd go in the morning. But there was a little nervousness between them. It had been two months since the last episode. They were on borrowed time, but they only had to make it through the night. Surely they would be fine, right? What were the odds that an episode started tonight? Well, worryingly likely. They weren't sure he could make it through the night if one struck tonight. They just had to hope. But luck wasn't on their side tonight.

They were so close too. It struck early in the day, the sun wasn't even up yet. An agonized scream woke them up. They both instantly knew what was happening.

"Oh, oh no. Vall, there's nothing for you. It'll be thirty minutes until the stores open and it'll take another thirty minutes until I can bring your food home. Can you last an hour?"

"A-An hour?! I-I can't do that! There's got to be something! Anything!"

"We both know that there's no food. I can get you some painkillers if you think that might help."

Painkillers helped, but they didn't fix it. It was like putting a band-aid on a broken bone. He sat there for a few minutes, groaning in pain. Every second that passed he became more and more desperate. There had to be something! He could eat the houseplants, maybe he could take some food from the neighbors or he could eat hi-

He stopped that thought before it could finish. He could never. Eat him? He'd never do that, no matter how much it hurt. He wasn't a meal, he was a friend! How could he even dare think such a thing! That was too far.

A sudden increase in pain forced him to reconsider, or at least think about it.

Well, maybe he could? He'd be fine, right? He was probably big enough to get him down without hurting him. He wouldn't digest, he could stop his digestion process at will! He didn't need to digest him! His brain was lying to him! He just needed to eat something, anything. To hold him over until the stores opened and he could get some real food. Get something in his stomach. But to eat him?! He couldn't! He wouldn't!

But he was just so, so, hungry. He had to eat. He couldn't wait an hour. He wasn't sure if he could wait another minute. But did that really mean eating his best friend alive? He knew he shouldn't, but the agony in his middle was a good argument that maybe it wasn't the worst idea.

He turned to him, he was pacing the room. Just looking at him he felt hungrier. He looked so, appetizing. No, he tried to force those thoughts out of his mind. What was wrong with him? He felt shame flow through him, before it was drowned out by pain. He had to eat something. But this? Could he really bring himself to eat his friend? He'd known him for years, he was his only real friend! Could he really treat him like a meal? His conflictions were silenced by a gruesome agony. He had to, to make the pain go away.

He stood, it hurt worse then he could imagine. His friend seemed shocked that he could even bring himself to stand.

"Vall? What are you doing?"

He stepped towards him. He felt tears welling in his eyes. He didn't want to this, b-but it wouldn't hurt him right? H-He'd be f-fine in there. He slowly parted his cloak revealing two of his arms. He reached out for him and grabbed his shoulders.

"V-Vall? You're scaring me... What are you doing?"

"I-I'm so sorry about this."

"VALL?! What do you mean?!"

He lifted him until they were eye to eye. Was he really about to do this? I-It wasn't too late to put him down. A stabbing sensation in his stomach prevented him from stopping, he had to make the pain go away. He fully parted his cloak revealing his second set of arms. Fully stretched out his cloak reached end to end of the room. He looked almost angelic, but to his friend he must have looked like a demon to his friend. He reached out and grabbed his legs to stop him from struggling.

He could see the fear on his face, he felt terrible. B-But he wasn't in any danger! It'd only be a little while in there!

"W-What are you going to do?"

"Im just so hungry. P-please forgive me."

His friend who seemed so much smaller then usual stared him up and down, until his eyes went wide with shock as he realized what was about to happen to him.

"WAIT!! Vall no! Put me down, please! I can figure something out! I promise! Just please don't hurt me!"

"I-I'm not going to hurt you! You'll be fine! I-I promise! I'-Im just s-so hungry. Just p-please don't fight it!"

"Vall wai-"

He cut him off by shoving his head in his mouth. He could taste him, to his starved mind he was delicious. He never thought he would think that. He could feel him struggling, but he was no match for his size and strength. He pushed him further into his mouth and swallowed. He could feel his head lodged in his throat. He franticly tried to quickly gulp him down. He tilted his head into the air, slamming his friends legs into the ceiling. With his shoulders firmly pushed into his throat he was practically choking. He needed to get him down quick. He felt as more and more of him was crammed inside of him. He could hear him shouting something but couldn't make it out, he was too focused on his meal. Only a few seconds later the only part of his friend still outside of him was the tips of his feet, and in one more gulp, he was gone. Almost as quickly as it had started he was gone. Completely within him. He gasped for air. He took a few breaths and retracted his cloak once more. He let out a belch. He felt so full. But despite that, from the outside you would never guess what had just happened. His friend was entirely hidden by his cloak. The hunger was gone now, completely sated, he felt calm. For a moment that is.

Only a few seconds later the weight of his actions came crashing down on him. Had... had he really just done that?! Did he just eat his friend?! No... no, no! This had to be a dream of some kind! He was in denial, and he knew it. He felt movement inside him. As the weight of that feeling hit him, erything seemed to lose color, it felt like time was slowing around him. The intense feeling of shame, regret, disgust washed over him. He had just eaten him, alive. That thought rang through his head. What started as the slight sting in his eye quickly changed to complete sobbing. He was a monster! Why had he done this?! How could he?! He was a danger to the people around him! He didn't know what to do as those thoughts swirled violently through out his mind. He felt completely alone. Until he heard his friend speak.

"V-Vall? A-Am I going to be okay?"

"Y-Yes." He squeaked out between sobs.

"Why? Why did you do this? Why?!"

"I-I... I just... I-I.."

He felt him kick, the pain almost knocked him to the ground.

"Answer me Vall! Why did you do this?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!"

"P-please don't s-struggle."

"I'm going to struggle you freak! What the fuck Vall?! Spit me out!"

"I-I will.. Just p-please stop, i-it hurts when you kick."

He felt another kick. It knocked the wind out of him for a moment.

"I fucking hope it does! I was going to help you! And you pull this shit?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!"

He had no answer. He deserved the pain of his kicking and struggling. He just collapsed to the floor and started sobbing harder. He just wanted to shrivel up and die. Years of friendship and trust destroyed, all because he couldn't wait. Every time he felt him squirm or kick or struggle in there his demands for answers rang through his head louder and louder. He felt like a monster. He only wanted to say one thing.

"I-I'm so sorry."

He curreled up and tried to cloak his head too. He wanted to be hidden away from the world, so nobody else would know the horror that became of him. So he couldn't hurt anyone else. He laid there form a few minutes, crying to himself, regretting everything he had ever done. He barely even realized that his friend wasn't struggling anymore. He heard him speak up again, softer this time.

"Vall? It's okay. I'm sorry too."

"W-What do you mean? Why are you sorry? I did this!"

"Me screaming at you is only making you worse. Just, take your time to calm down, it's okay, I forgive you."

"Y-You... f-forgive.... me?"

"I do. You'd never hurt me. I trust that you did this for a reason."

He couldn't belive it. After everything he had done, he still forgave him. He could hear his friend's voice shake, he was still a little scared but he seemed to truly believe that he was safe. His mind seemed to calm a little, maybe they could work this out. He tried to collect himself, but it hard. It took a while to just get to a state where he wouldn't break down if he even thought about what he had done. Maybe now he could talk to his friend.

"A-Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine, if a little cramped."

"Let's t-try and get you out."

"No, not yet, I have questions."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to know why. Why did you do this?"

He felt tears sting in his eyes once more, but he had to keep himself together, he owed him answers.

"I couldn't wait that long. It hurt, so, so much. I didn't want to do this, I just couldn't take the pain. I knew you be okay, you were never in danger, I just needed something, anything to hold me over until the stores opened."

"Well is it working?"

"Yes, it is." He responded shamefully.

"How long until the stores open?"

"Twenty minutes, but you won't have to be there that long, I'll get you out now, I can deal with the pain."

"No Vall, you can't. Well be right back at square one."

"What do you mean?"

"You clearly cannot deal with the pain."

"Well what's other option?"

"I could wait here for a while?"

"W-What?"

"I could stay here for bit, for you."

"W-Why would you want that?"

"It's not that bad in here, I don't mind staying here for some time if it means you aren't in so much pain."

"A-Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, why don't you try and relax in bed?"

Maybe he was right. Maybe he should just try and relax. They'd both been through a lot in only a few minutes. He picked himself up off the ground with some difficulty. It was a little challenging to maintain his balance, with the hundred and fifty pounds of extra weight in his abdomen. He made sure to carefully lower himself on to his bed, as to not disturb his friend. When he eventually laid back down he finally was able to fully relax, and only then could he really take in the sensations he was feeling.

He could make out every movement, squirm or shift his friend made. It was a strange feeling. But without the fear and regret from before, he almost, enjoyed it? It tickled a little. But it a good way. Like a soothing massage. He could feel his friends breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest. He could feel the warmth of his friends body heat, it made him feel sort of cozy. He curiously pulled his cloak back to see where his friend was stored. It didn't look all that much different then normal, maybe a minor bulge on his belly but that was it. His friend was almost completely buried under so much him. He was so hidden, yet so close. Only a thin layer of flesh away was him. He hovered his hand over it, an intense desire to feel him. But something held him back for moment, nervousness perhaps? It didn't stop him for long, he gently touched his middle, and to his surprise he felt him touch back. He felt so close to him in that moment. Emotionally and physically.

He wondered what it was like for him, to be in his stomach. It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

"What's it like in there?"

"Blue, your stomach is a deep blue."

"It is?"

"So was your maw."

He look at the mirror in the room and opened his mouth. He was right, it was a deep rich blue. He had never really thought about it that much. It never really struck him as something notable, all members of his species had blue maws. But now, it was a comforting thought to know his friend surrounded by such a nice color.

"I ment, what's it feel like?"

"It's sort of soft and not too small."

"I thought you said it was cramped?"

"It's tight, but not in a bad way."

"Cozy?"

"l-l uh, wouldnt say that. Oh and wet, it is very wet in here."

"Is that bad?"

"Not really, I'm soaked but, I don't really mind. But I am going to need a towel once I'm out of here."

"I can get you that when you're out."

"Thank you."

--------

The sun was up, it had been up for a few hours now. The stores had open a long time ago, but neither of them brought it up, he wondered why he hadn't spoken up yet, but he didn't mind, he enjoyed him being in there. But they couldn't sit here forever, they eventually had to get something for him to really eat. Eventually his roommate floated the question.

"So, how about we think about getting you something to really eat."

"Do you want to run out to the store?"

"It'll still take a while to get there, grab the food and get it back to you. I think you should get it."

"What? I should go out, IN PUBLIC, with you in there? Are you serious?"

"Am I really that noticeable? Am I not hidden by your cloak?"

He did have a point, he looked no different then usual from the outside. But to go out and interact with people, in this state. He was terrible with people normally, he couldn't imagine trying to talk to someone with another, living, breathing being inside of him. Just thinking about it made him nervous. But he really didn't want to deal with the pain a second longer than he had to.

"No" he begrudgingly admitted.

"You can get your food, come home, spit me out and eat some real food."

"But what if somebody asks why I'm walking funny? What if somebody notices the little bulge when I'm holding things?"

"Just.... say you had a good meal or something, I highly doubt anyone will immediately assume you ate somebody."

"You do have a point."

"See? You'll only be out for half an hour. If for whatever reason somebody finds out, you can pin all the blame on me."

He felt calmer, maybe he could. Maybe he could go out and get his food like this.

A few minutes later he was waiting at a bus stop. There was a few more people waiting too. All humans, his kind were vastly out numbered by humans. There was about a hundred humans for every Vulcanite. He stood out. He tried his best to keep his cool. Nobody seemed to notice his anxious behavior. Only a few minutes later the bus arrived. He ducked his head as he stepped on. While modern infrastructure was designed for both humans and Vulcanites, but it was hard to make everything suitable for such large beings.

He wondered if he should sit down or stand on the bus, if he sat it would draw less attention but it would be uncomfortable for his friend, but, if he stood people might notice his.... meal. No, he was over thinking this. Nobody would notice if he stood.

Ten minutes later he ducked his head once more as he stepped of the bus. He was here. When he walked about. He made sure to grab twice the food he'd normally get. He knew that he would eat a lot once they got home, so he should make sure they had more food after he was done. He was shocked to see that no one took notice of him. Well not entirely, he occasionally got a few curious looks from people who didn't see Vulcanites much. He didn't mind though. He understood that humans were very curious beings.

When he grabbed everything he'd need he made his way to the check out. He recognized one of the cashiers. Anne. She was one of the guests they'd had over just yesterday. He looked down at his stomach. The ones that had eaten the last of their food, the ones that had driven him to eat his friend. He didn't mind. He was almost glad that they had run out of food. It had led him to this unique experience.

He made his way over to her and put his groceries next to her.

"Oh! Vall it's you!"

"Y-yeah, it's me."

"Sorry for eating the last of your food."

He awkwardly chuckled.

"It's alright, no harm done."

"Thank you, say where's your roommate? I usually see him here, never you."

He panicked to think of an excuse. She'd be surprised to realise he was here too.

"Oh! He's... he's uh... working today! They're having issues at Helios! They needed him."

She seemed to notice his stuttering language. But she didn't push it.

"Okay... If you say so."

He quickly picked up his food and left. Even though it was minor, the exchange between him and Anne left his heart pounding, his brain had already run through all the ways he could slip up. But he made it. He walked home carrying well over a dozen large bags of food. It was a little hard to hold so much in all four hands and keep his middle hidden. But he managed.

---------

He opened to door and placed the bags on the kitchen table. He prepared himself to spit his friend out and immediately scarf down the food he had bought. No wait, he should grab a towel for his friend. He walked back downstairs and tosses the towel on the table, only then did he notice that he hadn't heard or felt his friend since he left the house. He prodded at his stomach.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh... yeah I'm fine. I just fell asleep."

"Asleep?"

"Yeah? I fell asleep. Is that an issue?"

"No, it's just, a little surprising to hear that you actually fell asleep in there. It it actually that comfortable?"

"Oh, it's, umm, alright I guess, it's not uncomfortable. Nevermind it, did you get your food?"

"Yeah, nobody noticed. I also saw Anne. She asked where you were."

"Well what did you say?"

"I told her that Helios needed you."

"Did she buy it?"

"Not entirely. She definitely knew something was up but she didn't ask. Anyway, are you ready to come out?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Alright, just give me a moment."

It was at that moment he realized something. How does he make himself vomit? Could he just.... push him back up? He lodged all of his hands under the slight bulge in his middle, and pushed. It made him feel sick. But that was good. After a bit he felt him be forced back up into his throat. He felt him reach his arm up until he felt it pop back into his mouth. He quickly used two his hands to reach into his maw and grab him. It was tough to keep his grip, his hand was covered in drool. But he managed to hold on and pull him out. He felt him be dragged out of him until he was holding him in the air. He was a mess, utterly soaked in saliva. He gently put him back on the ground and handed him the towel. Only then did the hunger come back. He immediately started devouring the food around him. Only a few minutes later he felt full. He took a few deep breaths. The episode was over. Finally. He turned to his friend. He didn't seem to mind the view of his gluttony. He was too busy cleaning himself off.

---------

The sun was gone now. The unusual day they'd had was still on both of their mind. But neither showed it. They hadn't talked about it, all day. The were getting ready to go to bed. His roommate was watching a documentary on his phone in bed. And he was sat at his desk, next to the mirror, reading a novel. He heard his roommate speak.

"Are we not going to talk about what happened today?"

"Why? Is there something you want to say?"

"Well..."

He saw a look of nervousness on his face. Almost like he regretted asking. What was on his mind? Did he... enjoy his time? He assumed he might have enjoyed it. Perhaps he was a little embarrassed to admit it.

"Did you like it in there?"

"N-no!" He snapped back.

He smiled, that was it. He turned to him.

"Did you enjoy it? It's fine if you did."

"I..."

He seemed reluctant to admit it. He knew it would a little odd to say you enjoyed you're time in somebody's stomach. He didn't mind, he had enjoyed it too.

"You did, didn't you. I don't mind, I liked it too."

"Well..."

"Are you not going to admit it?"

"Maybe a bit..."

Ha! He had his answer. But there still seemed to be something on his mind. He knew him, he wouldn't admit something like this without a little... "encouragement" He had an idea. Maybe he could push him a little, it might get him to admit whatever was bothering him.

"Awww, are you upset you had to leave?"

"N-no!"

"Don't worry, you can tell me."

"....a little...."

He got up out of the chair and walk towards him. He had an idea that he might like.

"Say... Maybe you could help me during episodes, hold me over for a while, like today?"

He showed a toothy smile to signal what he was implying. He saw his friend squirm a little.

"I-If you w-want to..."

"Both of us know you want to, that's what bugging you, just admit you want to get eaten again."

"Fine. I had a good time. I wouldnt mind helping you through episodes by doing... that."

He reached out and ruffled his hair.

"Good to hear."

He walked back to his bed, and laid down. He looked at his friend, laying in bed, trying to continue his documentary. But he could see him turning to look at him every now and then. He quickly turned his head back to his phone when he noticed him staring at him. He felt a smile cover his face. He almost looked forward to the next episode. He rolled over to face the wall. He thought about the way he had teased his friend. It was oddly... fun? Just to playfully mess with him a little. He had never really done something like that. He normally didn't have enough confidence to talk like that, but after today, he felt a little more sure of himself.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[smallnico]

4, 5, and 8 durgetash asks >:3

LONG ASS ANSWER thank u for asking <3

https://www.tumblr.com/smallnico/756672403384434688

read more if you like pain with a side of petty god drama <3

4. Did Durge steal anything for themselves during the heist, or did they only take the crown?

the boring answer is yeah, because esper is a big fan of stealing and will do it with very little justification. i don't have any specific items in mind that they would have stolen, but if something looked valuable and reasonably not-cursed, they would've grabbed it and probably pawned it to helsik or one of gortash's buyers.

the exciting answer is that the hell heist is also the first and only time bhaalist esper stole a kiss from everyone's favourite babygurl. this requires a bit of explanation, but i am happy to provide. >:3

so, bhaal uses esper as an avatar. even when he's not actively superseding their consciousness and using their body as his own, he likes to watch through their eyes and make them feel aggression or agitation or lust or nausea or pleasure or pain, or whatever the situation calls for in order to manipulate them into doing what he wants. esper is fairly resistant to the smaller-scale manipulations or their physical emotions and responses thanks to the bard training from their childhood, but they consider these small signs as missives from the divine (because that's what they are, really) -- warnings to stop what they're doing and do what father says, or else he's going to make you black out and wake up with some fresh bullshit to answer for and deal with. esper fears this loss of control more than anything, so they compensate by being a zealous and committed servant, just so they can at least keep their mind. just so they can have Something.

bhaal is always living in esper's head rent free even when he's not there, panopticon style. this, plus the Gift of Guaranteed Murder (which i interpret for esper as a hyperawareness of signs of life in their surroundings and an inexorable pull toward snuffing them out, Especially when people touch them. esper is constantly bordering on overstimulated by the sound of breathing, heartbeats, body heat, etc., so when they're feeling particularly sick from touch starvation, that's when they get cozy with corpses) is the main cluster of reasons they never actually get with gortash, and actively repress their desire to do so. sure, they're extremely aware of the fact that gortash Wants them and they know the effect they have on him, but the only thing they do about it is manipulate his attentions to their gain. where it starts to get a bit cloudier and less manipulative for them both is on the level of friendship and emotional connection. both gortash and esper are deeply isolated and disconnected people, but through some cosmic tragic joke (hehe) they've ended up in the same fuckin. emotional netherzone. so they're both mutually the only person the other has ever felt they could actually relate to, and the very small vulnerable lonely parts of their souls cling to each other with everything they've got in spite of how much the rest of their selves want to pretend that isn't happening.

so, while they aren't really in love per se, esper needs gortash and gortash needs them, both on a deep, scared lizard brain level. but every time esper (who is by far the more emotionally intelligent person in their diad by virtue of literally being an empath and a psychic) tries to reach out for warmth, tries to satisfy even as much as the gnawing touch starvation they feel because they're terrified of losing what little control they have over their body, bhaal is there to shock them away from it with a cold sweat or a physical disgust, just to warn them away from latching onto anything that distracts them from their purpose -- to help him slaughter everything. so they have to ignore the lengths gortash will go to win their favour. they have to ignore the fact that he's willing to share power with them. they have to ignore the grand gestures, the convoluted schemes, the business dealings he amends to benefit their interests as well as his, the nonsense issues he contrives to find an excuse to spend time with them. the fact that he wants to possess them, but is willing to ignore that want and frame their interactions to pre-emptively satisfy the temple of bhaal's independance from his baneite affairs, because he values esper's company just a little bit more than his own greed. and esper can't Not be aware of this because they can't tune out the information their own magic is giving them.

so, what does the hell heist have to do with all of this? let me tell you. since raphael has the ability to silence the emperor And the voice of bhaal in act 3 when he forces you into a private conversation about the crown of karsus (something that also made esper go a little feral, because What The Fuck, You Can Just Do That, Don't Put It Back, cue a lot of panicking about taking that deal because they want nothing more than to be free from all that shit, but that's another point), and because there aren't really any durge moments in the house of hope (and the emperor is also out of reach down there), i thought it would be fun if bhaal just. couldn't possess them while they were in the hells.

so, imagine you're esper. imagine you're embarking on another heist with your bestie associate, normal as anything, as a part of his grand plan (which he made sure to get your god to sign off on) to steal the crown of karsus and turn the both of you into gods, him for power and you for freedom from your current master shit boss dad beloved dark lord. you have your doubts and don't trust him to not use the crown for himself and make only himself into a god capable of subjugating you, but you find these weird illithid plans you can use instead. it's a lot more complicated, but that's how gortash likes to do things, especially if it means getting to work with you for just a bit longer. he thinks this whole tadpole thing could also help finally make his steel watchers, this project he's been labouring on for years, work. his hands are on the crown, they're on ultimate power, and he's showing you these plans instead, proposing an alternative that will Ensure that you can both conquer the world -- together by necessity -- and leverage your followers against the existing pantheon into granting you mutual godhood. no faith required.

and you realize in that moment that you love him for this. and that the immediate whiplash feeling of violence and hatred and disgust you're used to feeling when you love... isn't there. you can hear his heart hammering in his chest and smell the fear and adrenaline in his system, sense the presence of memories he's pushing down. you know the world around him is soup to him right now. he's suggestible, at this point trying to win you over in the only ways he knows how out of habit, because he's wanted to do it for so long it's second nature even when he's so agitated, when you know that he knows that you know that he knows it'll never work. you think about him. you think about what he's promising you, what he's making inevitable for you by locking the both of you into a gamble that could be a suicide pact, but will ultimately free you, one way or the other, and ensure that you aren't alone while you're waiting for how it turns out, because he'll be there with you. your freedom, and finally, an end to your gnawing, all-consuming loneliness.

and you can't hear your god. and your god can't hear you.

so you grab the man by the shoulders and steal a moment in this tense situation to kiss the fuck out of him. everything you have time for. you justify this uncontrolled, impulsive, opportunistic act of pure fucking id to yourself in hindsight with the usual. you were manipulating him into keeping his promise, obviously. he was too gobsmacked and overwhelmed to absorb what you said to him, but you remember. you were in control. something about making sure he kept his promise. you remember, don't you? you didn't do it for you. you didn't do it to spite your god, or to resist. you would never do something like that.

you remember what you said, right?

anyway, that's what esper stole from the mephistar vault. boy oh boy did they ever have to pay for it though, lol. they started spiralling after, eventually culminating in the prayer for forgiveness and the whole bullshit with orin.

5. What did pre tadpole Durge think of Jergal? Was that mindset in any way influenced by Bhaal?

i think esper didnt consider jergal much, other than as a predecessor to bhaal and an ancient minor deity they had no need to contend with. their opinions were very much influenced by bhaal, and bhaal had no particular reason to suspect jergal of fucking around.

the gods bhaalist esper really had beef with were bane and cyric. bane for the whole you-oppressed-my-god-and-killed-a-bunch-of-bhaalists situation (that manifests as an ideological opposition to doing anything gortash tells them to, among other things) and cyric for the whole bitchass-usurper-who-killed-my-god-and-stole-his-job situation. part of the reason esper hates the zhentarim on principle and sides with the guild during any territorial skirmishes in the area is because they do hold a grudge against the zhents for their not-so-secret cyricist history. one of these days i'll write about that particular death cult political drama, since it's part of my headcanon surrounding the hall of wonders heist -- lots of cyric temples were built out of old bhaalist temples and kept bhaalist relics for show, so it seemed to me like a faction that would be likely to, for example, drag a bunch of stolen bhaalist relics into the city for people to gawp at.

given esper's beef with cyric, i believe the thinking is that while jergal served as his seneschal, he was also working to subvert him, so esper doesn't have a problem with jergal. in a way, esper also serves as a seneschal for bhaal, so if nothing else, they understand that you don't often get to choose your god, and you gotta do what you gotta do to live your life with dignity and take pride in what you do. since jergal wasn't (at least to their knowledge at the time) trying to subvert bhaal, esper didn't count him as an enemy.

post-tadpole (and post-endgame) esper effectively has no choice but to become a jergal stan thanks to withers, but even pre-tadpole their personal philosophy (shackled to, but apart from bhaal) aligned harder with jergal than most gods. they were (and still are) a fatalistic believer that all living things must die, but contrary to bhaal's philosophy, esper likes to look at the bigger picture of their victims' whole lives and the impacts their deaths will have -- when they have the luxury of choice, esper is picky about who they kill, preferring deaths that will create a rippling narrative of fear of murder/bhaal or ones that help to prune away undesired developments in the world, and they get their gay little psychic hands all over the vibes of everyone they meet regardless of their intent to kill them, so it becomes difficult Not to remember those narratives. esper always has a few good stories to tell at the feast of the moon.

8. What were their last words towards each other? And who really got the final say? (Same as prev, be as vague as you'd like)

split this one into two, since there are different answers depending on when you consider their 'last' conversation was!

last words pre-orin:

i don't have any specific words in mind, but i feel like their last conversation before orin's surprise attack was about as normal as any conversation could be after the mess during the hell heist. esper was called to moonrise towers to help ketheric with some strategy he'd been planning to entrap and recruit drow soldiers to appoint as squadron leaders, since the swathes of goblins and reanimated corpses they'd collected wasn't very conducive to organization, and ketheric is a great general, but he's not as feverish a micromanager as esper or gortash are, and the absolute's army needs competent leaders for him to delegate to. esper, being raised as drow, had some insights that could be used to hook good candidates, so they were off to make sure it got done right while gortash and orin (probably; she's a shapeshifter, she's probably still here, right?) kept things under control in baldur's gate.

so esper headed to moonrise, where they provided ketheric with their advice, briefly indulged in a drink and an only sort-of-disguised vent session chastising ketheric for only serving his god because myrkul was essentially holding his love for his daughter hostage. the kind of empty judgement that they pass constantly, but their heart isn't really in, because they're mostly just envious that ketheric's god was willing to let him have Something. cue esper going to the basement and getting vibe checked by orin on bhaal's behalf for being an ingrate.

but the last conversation between esper and gortash was purely business. what are you talking about? nothing happened in the hells, no, of course not. no question that gortash had the last word there, because he always does, he's petty like that. something inane and amiable like "i'll have a list of targets by tomorrow, but i'll make sure the temple doesn't kill them all before you get back," or like, "walk in death, my dear urge, or whatever it is your lot says", or "close the door behind you".

last words pre-gortash dying:

"i think i always liked you, too. but this is how it has to be."

... or some more characteristic equivalent based on that line. gortash learned at the very last minute that esper was right -- they did always like him, because they had the ability to curbstomp him extremely disrespectfully any time they wanted, and they worked very, very hard to avoid doing so. he realizes that esper did care about him, very much, because he was now looking at an esper that didn't care what happened to him. he sees them taking their swords to someone else while karlach is killing him -- annoying and embarrassing, by the way, to be killed by an employee of all things --he sees them let someone else take the kill, breaking their promise that he would die by their hand.

but there's some peace in that. they got out. they said they got out. his empire is crumbling around him, and the only person he's ever loved is abandoning him for a second time, and he hates them, he hates them, he hates them. he'll drag them kicking and screaming into the hells with him if bane ever lets him. but that same small part of him that they had thought died when he lost them for the first time, he can feel it again.

and it's grinning from ear to ear. because the plan worked. he's doomed, but he was right, and it worked. and his last living thought is on getting revenge, just like it's always been.

[jackals-ships]

JACKAL I must apologize I was like I WILL GO CHECK F/O LIST because I am not 100% sure which bot you ship with (<- did not care about robots until suddenly I cared A LOT) though I thiiink it's Megatron bUT sorry if I'm wrong fkdjashkj BUT BEARING IN MIND I HAVEN'T FINISHED S1...I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SHIP(S) 👀 and perhaps read fic at some point if you are able to find it @goldenworldsabound

(<- did not care about robots until suddenly I cared A LOT) IS AN ENTIRE MOOD THO HFKF tfp is like some sleeper cell activation code i SWEAR,,, + ur all good !! i gotta fiddle w my f/o list a lil and then repost it bc i kept meaning to make minor changes an then forgor,

BUT ANYWAYS YES !!! he's also, hilariously, one of the f/os i have a physical lil guy of despite being not on my radar as long as like garrus hf

also a read more bc i woke up Rambly today <3

he gets to sit with the ponies :} bc he canonically likes mlp at least according to the lil ask Megatron bit + there was a whole comics crossover (2 I think actually?)

breakdown + knockout are also My Besties they started out as like kinda baby crushes <- local aro can't tell the difference between Feelings even in fiction more at 11 [lighthearted] before megs came for my braincell with the fuckin. steel chair HFJ so seeing you go 👀🥰 at knocks i was like FUCK YEAH LETS GOO !!! im dropping into his work station from the ships vents like oooo someone's got a cruuuuush ooooo you wanna be all (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）don't u knocks- (jackal is once again banned from the nemesis)

okay okay but; i rlly only have one fic Finished and luckily had the foresight to post it to AO3. it's a lil older so not totally in character + canon but still silly and cute hjfkd

NOW GETTING INTO MY RED STRING TERRITORY-

when i get into something with a lot of continuities i tend to kinda? squish em together? or take bits and pieces going >:3 my city now, so the jackal x megatron ship is Primarily TFP but ive also absconded with fun movie details (like megs being i think it was 30? 40 ft tall? Fuck Huge,,,,) and also bits of comics lore/designs (holomatter is an interesting concept and im chewing on Meg's as we speak. gnawing on his arm even-)

but regardless this ship is totally my Slice Of Life Comedy Hour Chill LoFi Beats type of ship HKF like im a sucker for darker stuff higher stakes but i think this one has 0 stakes

like. like jackal and megatron literally met because jackal enjoys long walks on the beach exploring places Away from the city and Generally Away From Ppl to just sorta vibe. and ofc the normal thing to do when coming across a Definitely Alien And If Not Alien Then Like Secret Government Ship is to walk away. NOT wander ur happy lil ass inside like :0 yooooo what do These buttons do

and then when you get kicked out instead of getting squished like the bug you shouldn't come back via the air vents. again. and again and again and AGAIN and AG- until the local alien warlord gives in and is like "yeah okay this is my life now ig???" (soundwave was totally helping them btw. he likes drama 😌 and also has his own human hi adri so he can't say shit-) (also I've never decided on the Actual number of times they break it, in my brain it keeps slowly going up jus bc I find the concept SO funny. pov you're an alien warlord worried you got alien rodents and oh no NVM it's the human again. FUCK-)

it's absolutely the slowest burn too bc Meg's Refuses to admit that he has a crush on the weird squishy thing that keeps breaking in (until he's decided they're dating. and doesn't bother mentioning this) while jackals just 🥰 hehehoho big robot friend who calls me scraplet and sweetspark and sometimes puppy 🥰🥰🥰 also threatened to kill any mech who was mean to me 🤔🤔 weird. aaanyways

THERE'S ALSO a running joke in my head of that "what do you have?" "A KNIFE" "NO-" but it's jackal running off with energon bc you can't SHOW ME a cool liquid and have me NOT want to drink it !! Just a sippy. jus a lil- we'll have the hospital on speed dial pleeeeaaaase-😭

anyways tldr jackal megatron is "I'm not trapped with him he's trapped with me yaaaay :D" and "robot google; weird fuzzy feeling in spark?? how to remove weird fuzzy feeling?? robot google human exterminator near me-"

[shakertwelve]

I was very aware of people looking at us.  Crystal’s flight and landing had turned heads.  I knew objectively that they were looking at her, but even if I could logically put two and two together, my traitorous brain told me they were staring at me when their eyes pointed in my direction, and they were averting their eyes from me when they weren’t.

I saw a woman in a sundress walking her dog, and I thought of a quiet voice outlining some warnings.  No donating blood.  Avoid any sources of healing that aren’t her, because the wrong source of healing could awaken latent materials that were used to rebuild this body.  Stray dog.  Stray cat.  Rodents.

It made my stomach hurt.  A constant gnawing feeling, hollowing me out.  I was outside and active because I knew how easy it would be to do anything else.  I stayed standing because I was already standing.  I could keep from screaming because I hadn’t yet opened my mouth to scream.  I went through my day because I hadn’t stayed inside with a blanket pulled over my head.  I wore nice clothes because they were what I’d worn before, back when I’d either been Glory Girl or I’d been Victoria Dallon.  I met with Crystal because I hadn’t yet cut myself off from the world.

“It’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?” Crystal asked, looking skyward.

I looked up at the blue sky.  Summer heat beamed down on us, pulsing off of the concrete.  I could put together the individual pieces, and say it was warm without being sweltering, the sky was clear, the city smelled like fresh wood and car exhaust, and a strong wind blew clean through the city.  Clean like there were thick, rich forests just beyond the city boundaries, and the wind picked that up to refresh the city.

I could take all the individual pieces and I knew they were the sort of thing that added up to wonderful weather.  I felt aware of every set of eyes in the vicinity, pointed at me or otherwise, including Crystal’s one visible eye, which was looking skyward, her hair sweeping over the other side of her face.  Each one was a condemnation or penetrating stare.  Each one implied emotions I didn’t want to deal with.  I felt aware of the clothes against my skin, and how they hadn’t been washed enough times to lose the stiffness that came from being folded in a box or the trace chemicals after they were pumped out by a factory line.

I was aware of my body, and nothing felt exactly right.  Proportions, how my own body weight rested on different portions of my own body, head on neck, hip on thigh bone, leg pushing down against foot, foot inside a sandal that pushed into the earth.  I couldn’t escape the visceral notion of meat against bone, grinding, crushing, like stray animals had been ground and crushed together, turned into a scrambled egg slurry of proteins and fats that were then pulled together to make a monstrous body.  Reshaped again, hundreds of pounds of me pulled away and cast off, left behind to be devoured by scavengers.  Animal meat returning to the animals.

[callsign-owl]

Midnight Conversations

Hereford, United Kingdom - March 2019

The night was cold and still, the air crisp with the lingering scent of early spring. The base was silent, its usual hum of activity subdued under the blanket of darkness. Owl wandered through the deserted corridors and open spaces, his footsteps echoing softly against the concrete. Sleep had once again eluded him, the familiar restlessness gnawing at his mind.

He walked with no particular destination, simply moving to keep his thoughts from spiraling. The sky was clear, stars scattered like diamonds against the velvety blackness. As he turned a corner near the barracks, a faint glow caught his eye. The scent of tobacco smoke drifted towards him, mingling with the cool night air.

Captain Price was leaning against a wall with a cigar in hand. The ember glowed brightly with each puff, illuminating his face in the darkness. His expression was contemplative, eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

Owl hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to intrude but before he could go back inside, Price looked up, his gaze steady but not unkind. "Couldn't sleep again, *redacted*?" he asked, his voice low and calm.

Owl shrugged. "Seems to be a nightly occurrence," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of resignation.

Price nodded, taking another puff of his cigar. "A fellow night owl," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Army life can do that to you, though I suspect your troubles started long before."

Owl leaned against the wall next to Price, the cool stone pressing against his back. "Yeah, insomnia and I go way back. I thought maybe all this training would wear me out enough to sleep, but no luck."

Price chuckled softly. "The mind has a way of keeping us awake, no matter how tired the body is," he observed. "What keeps you up?"

Owl considered the question, his gaze drifting to the sky. "Everything and nothing," he replied after a moment. "The past, the future... It's like my brain refuses to shut down. Always thinking, always processing."

Price nodded thoughtfully, taking another drag from his cigar. "Seems to be a common affliction among men like you, men who think too much," he said.

Owl met his gaze, the understanding in Price's eyes both comforting and unsettling. "Do you ever sleep, Captain?" he asked, half-joking.

Price smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "When I can," he replied. "But nights like these, I find a cigar and some quiet help clear the mind."

They stood in silence for a while. Owl felt a strange sense of calm settle over him, the usual restlessness easing ever so slightly.

"You've been doing well," Price said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Despite everything, you've shown resilience. It's not easy, what you're doing."

Owl shrugged. "Still feels like I'm out of my depth most days."

Price studied him for a moment before speaking. "I've noticed you tend to keep to yourself, not interacting much with the others. Is there a reason for that?"

Owl looked away, his gaze fixed on the distant stars. "I guess... I'm just used to being on my own. It's easier that way."

Price nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I understand the instinct to isolate, especially given everything you've been through. But in Task Force 141, we operate as a team. We rely on each other, trust each other. Isolation can be a liability, both to you and the team."

Owl remained silent, processing Price's words. He knew the Captain was right, but the thought of opening up to others, of relying on them, was daunting.

Price continued, his tone gentle but firm. "Building those connections, that trust, it's crucial. Not just for the success of the mission, but for your own well-being. You're part of this team now. Let them in."

Owl glanced at Price, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. "I hear you, Captain. It's just... new for me. But I'll try."

Price smiled faintly, nodding in approval. "That's all I ask. Take it one step at a time. The rest will follow."

They stood in silence for a while longer. Finally, Price stubbed out his cigar and pushed off the wall.

"Get some rest, *redacted*," he said, his tone carrying a note of finality. As Price walked away, Owl remained by the wall for a few more minutes, letting the cool air and the quiet of the night seep into his bones.

[freonblue]

okay, anxiety around writing in particular

so I had a bit of a creatively stunting upbringing

all fiction was strictly forbidden until I was fifteen. I occasionally snuck some in under the radar, but was always wracked with guilt afterwards

my dad said the reason was that fiction sets up unrealistic expectations, that life doesn't work like it does in stories

the problem is

I've been compulsively telling stories since I was a toddler

literally started trying to write a novel when I was seven

all this interdict really ended up doing was consuming me in guilt and really severely stunting my creative guilt

I didn't start learning how stories *work,* like, the instinctive way from absorbing countless fairy tales and epics and novels, until later. I wrote my first novel at fourteen, when I was still forbidden from reading Winnie the Pooh or the Chronicles of Narnia.

I... still haven't made peace with that emptiness. With the aching need for fantasy and fancy that gnawed at me for the first half of my life.

The pain of it still takes my breath away.

Honestly, I think it was the cruellest thing my father ever did. And he didnt even know what he was doing.

(honestly, he was just following his own anxiety about being a good person, his own inner demons that told him he was following the will of god)

I quit writing for years as a young adult. Because somewhere in my brain the thought had burrowed in that stories = bad and fiction = evil and I wanted my parents to approve of me. So I abandoned the thing that came so naturally to me and got a whole degree in something that was like pulling teeth, something that I struggled constantly with, until finally when I graduated I finally had to admit that the thought of actually looking for a job in that field made me actively suicidal and I had to do something else.

I've written on and off as an adult. Slowly creeping my way back to it. Limbering up the stiff muscles. Trying to learn how stories work. Reading and reading and reading, insatiably, sometimes as much as a book a day.

But all the adult anxieties lie thick over my efforts, often thick enough to push me back.

Because now there's years of fandom purity culture and cinemasins and plot hole discourse rotting through my head, swirling together with that old old notion that fiction is bad insofar as it is unrealistic.

I've gotten to the point that I can enjoy reading tropey, cheesy power fantasies and other flights of fancy.

But I still freeze up, locking up absolutely rigid when I try to write them. My perfectionism (...my anxiety) screams "that's ridiculous, that would never work, that's absurd, how do they pay the rent? Shouldn't they be more stressed about work? No one's that good at what they do!"

I've tried writing "realistic" stories which of course gets excruciatingly depressing and tedious.

I still want to write. Desperately. Constantly.

Part of me screams "if you really cared about it that much you'd be doing it, instead of wasting so much time avoiding it and wishing you knew how to start"

Another, gentler part of me points out that if I didn't care about writing, it wouldn't bother me not to be doing it. I'm not regularly consumed by longing and wistful guilt over my lack of ...idk, boxing matches or racecar driving or painting.

Just writing.

I still have this dream, this dream I've had since I was a kid, that someday I'll make a career out of being a novelist.

(as unrealistic as that is, too)

Anyway. I'm reexamining all this through the lens of anxiety. And I wanted to talk about a core defining trauma that I carry with me. Thanks for listening.

[danosrosegarden]

dust bunny

{trigger warning: this writing piece recalls my experience with drugs, overdose, self-harm, and suicide.}

I'm going to pass out in a pool of my own frothy spittle while my bloodshot eyes roll back and my weakened heartbeat withers. Either somebody is going to find my limp, bloodied body on the carpet in enough time to take me to the hospital, or I'm going to die here. I don't care anymore.

What's more freeing than being released of the need to keep going? I was ready to lay down and rest, sink into the infinite black of sleep. I'd had just about enough of swallowing a handful of Benadryl each morning and driving to class, feeling crusted, thorny sleep poke at the corners of my eyes while my stomach gnawed on the pink pills and sloshed its acid around side to side, hungry for anything other than half a bottle of over the counter medicine.

I didn't give a fuck what I had to take, what old, probably expired prescription I had to dig up in the depths of my pill collection. My old bottle of Xanax was probably somewhere at the bottom of the drawer being eaten alive by dust. I'd find it.

When I come to in the dark, moonlit early morning, a short-haired, tattooed nurse is wiping my thighs with something that burns like hell and my parents are staring at me from small chairs across from my cramped bed. They look crunched in and uncomfortable. They look impossibly tired, ashen bags nibbling at the skin underneath their eyes. I burst into tears, and it's like my throat is a skipping record; I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. They say nothing, so I keep repeating it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

There's no manual on what to say to your heartbroken and no doubt traumatized family after you survive an overdose, and that's all I could think to fill the air with. A thousand apologies soaked through with a warbling voice, salty tears racing down my pink cheeks, a bubble of snot popping from my right nostril.

I don't know what to feel now, recalling that late night/early morning with just a few scars left on my skin to heal and fade. Most of them are a burned, charred memory stuck in the back wrinkles of my brain.

I'm allowed to close my door and be alone now. I've been good. I went back to work at the end of the month. They say they missed me, give me cards filled with glittery, encouraging words and a pretty bouquet of blushing pink tulips.

I like to drive to the activity center and run on the track these days. I like to feel beads of sweat dangle from my hair and my heartbeat race, remind it that it's still here and kicking. Thank it for serving me so well when I cruelly raked it through the mud and carelessly picked at its veins.

I do what I can to remind myself I am alive, I am no longer collected dust at the bottom of the pill box. I am not the blackened rot that once ate away at my flesh, I am not the slashed skin or the chain-smoking on an empty stomach or the hungry acid eating away at my body. I am the cool autumn breeze blowing the tangerine orange leaves onto the yellowed fields of grass. I'm the tears welling in the eyes after a breath-stealing belly laugh. I am the light and the dark and before anything else, I am proud. Proud of where I go and what I do, proud of how I continue to exist despite it all.

I am here, and I have a life worth living. That's all I've ever wanted.

[idiotwithanipad]

Happy Death Day (Pt1)

How Humphrey asked Alison for a special favour for Amy (My OC)⚔️🖤

Kitty rushed through the Ball Room's wall in a flurry, her wrists flapping with glee. 

"Everyone! Alison and Mike are coming to visit tomorrow!" She beamed. The group turned away from watching an elderly living woman finishing her crossword and gawked at Kitty. They erupted into a flurry of excitement as they wandered closer to the Georgian. 

"I saw her name pop up on the list inside the typing television!" Kitty smiled as she swayed her dress skirts by her sides. The group all clocked onto what Kitty was saying and erupted into a second round of joyful words. 

"Nice to know she still likes coming back to this old place every now and then. Maybe this time we can find out if Mia and her chap finally got the flat they wanted?" Pat chirped. The group agreed and rushed into the reception area to check the front desk computer. Alison and Mike were indeed on the list of new guest scheduled for the week. 

Amy stood beside Kitty, Humphrey's head in hand. 

"Mia's her daughter right?" Amy asked, leaning over to Kitty. 

"Yes. Although she doesn't come to visit much, she's all grown up now and she works full time" Kitty said, a wide smile still spread on her lips. 

Amy nodded, she felt bad that she only had distant memories of Mia. Having died only six years after Mia's birth, Amy rarely got to see Mia, and each time she only seemed to grow bigger and more distant. The date on the computer read '2045', and that caused Amy to ponder the life she missed out on. 

Humphrey had been unusually quiet after finding out that Alison was due for a comeback, he didn't even let his eyes meet anyone else's. 

The day came. Alison checked in with Mike and headed up to the Higham Suite. Her jovial friends hounded around her and welcomed her back. They broke bread for a while and filled themselves in on the latest gossip and news on Mia. 

Fanny and The Captain grew slightly displeased that Mia had moved out so quickly, wondering if they'd ever get to see her again at all, even if she could no longer see them. Alison soon took her leave and decided to go for a walk on the grounds with Mike, leaving the ghosts to return to the Ball Room to watch the living staff set up for Zumba. Amy took Humphrey's head and retreated back to the reception area. 

Upstairs, Kitty and Robin already began stretching and getting ready to copy the livings who would join in, and Amy grew silent. Unseen by Humphrey, Amy eyes scanned all the equipment being taken up to the Ball Room. Amy had usually been reluctant to join in physical activity, in fear that it would make her cheeks flush; she'd always found a flushed face was ugly on her and she preferred to be pale... The others hadn't a clue why. 

And her figure, which had always been a factor in her insecurity. She was called 'skinny' all through her childhood and soon began to cover up with oversized hoodies and layers of thick tights to pad out her thighs more. But today, she felt an itching in her brain, she wanted to join in for a change. 

"You alright, Poppet? You're awfully quiet" Humphrey asked. Amy winced out of her train of thought and shuffled her boot a little. 

"Yeah, sorry. Got sidetracked..." She motioned towards the stairs, the class would be starting in a moment. 

"Zumba? Why don't you go join in? Could be fun"" Humphrey said, perky as always. 

Amy shrugged. 

"I dunno... " Amy lifted her hand to her mouth and contemplated giving her nails a good gnawing. Humphrey sighed. 

"Oi, look at me" Humphrey said. Amy turned his head in her hands and sat face to face with the Tudor. 

"Don't worry about me, just go and enjoy yourself for a while, girls your age need to have fun, or you'll end up like me..." Humphrey mused with raised eyebrows. His childhood had been drab at best; while, yes, he grew up in lovely places, he lacked any friends and was denied access to any activities that his father saw 'unfit' for a boy of nobility. Unable to feel the rush of a good time until he got shipped off at fourteen with a wife and an estate. A lot of responsibility for a young boy. 

Amy bit her lip and looked toward the stairs again, trying to hide the smile that crept onto her lips. Humphrey winked. 

"Go on" 

With a giggle Amy rose from her seat. 

"Oh um- mind putting me on the windowsill though, Poppet? Don't really fancy some living coming along and sitting on me again like before you died. I never thought I'd see someone's large intestine just an inch away from my nose, but I did... And it was NOT pleasant..." Humphrey said with a shellshocked expression. Amy grimaced at the thought and lifted him onto the windowsill so that he could watch the golfers outside. 

"You sure you don't mind? " Amy asked, creasing her brow. Humphrey rolled his eyes and spoke again. 

"Go on, get on with it. I'll let you know how many hole-in-ones they get, yeah? A-and let me know how Zumba goes" He smiled. Amy gave a quick 'sure' and jogged off upstairs to join Robin and Kitty. 

The hour flew by quickly. Humphrey had quite a nice time watching the golfers, only one man managed to get a whole in one, until he spotted Mike and Alison in the distance, making their way back to the house. This could be his chance. He just had to wait until he heard her voice come inside. Just a little bit longer. 

"Well, we'll have to get that china set for Mia and Dan when they're done decorating, Mike" Alison's voice, no doubt, even through her old age. 

"Alison?! Alison Cooper, in 'ere!" Humphrey called, adding a few whistles and tongue clicks hoping to get her attention. Luckily, it did, as approaching footsteps grew louder in Humphrey's ears. Unfortunately, the reception had occupants, and Alison wasn't comfortable with talking to someone that they couldn't even see. 

She rose her phone to her ear, making it look like she was taking a call. 

"You alright, Humphrey?" Alison asked, not looking at the decapitated head beside her on the windowsill. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks, Alison. I uh- hello- I was- just wondering if I could ask for a favour?" Humphrey stuttered, Alison could tell there was a genuine sincerity and a deep nervousness in his voice; it was uncharacteristic for Humphrey to ask for anything, unless it was for her to turn a page in a book he read, but even that was a stretch. 

"Yeah, sure. What's on your mind?" Alison spoke to the Tudor, but also into the phone, as casually as she could fake. 

"Well... Amy's death day is coming up in the next few days and- I was wondering if you might be able to-" Humphrey struggled to get the words out, his brow creased and he set his jaw. 

"Amy's- " Alison cut herself to the quick; she couldn't say THAT out loud. 

"Of course! W-what day is that again?"

"It's the twentieth. Said so on that screen they type on" Humphrey explained. 

Alison nodded. 

"Okay. What would you like me to do? Balloons? A card? " Alison asked, reclining into the chair by the windowsill. 

"No umm- I mean you could do, that'd be nice. But umm- I was thinking more along the lines of a- certificate... " Humphrey said, his eyes blinking rapidly. Alison paused, her lips pursing in confusion. 

"A certificate. Isn't that a bit dark? I mean she- technically already HAS a- certificate like that... "

"N-No-, a...an adoption certificate... "

[stormyoceans]

monica monica monica, i just had a random thought about morkday and now i will be manifesting it to happen, or something like it, bc it would be So Good (at least i think so being an angst lover)

they have an argument of some sort and mork storms off. he doesnt show up to work the next day or two so day tries to go looking for him along the paths that they've walked together and he gets hurt some how, i don't know don't yell at me. night calls mork and he quite literally drops everything and straight up runs to the hospital and day instantly knows when he steps in the room bc he smells like the mechanic shop. enter: tearful apologies and "im okay"s and maybe hand holding that makes night realize just how much they care about each other?

anywayssss, it really last twilight brainrot hours 24/7 <3<3

IN A DEAD FAINT IN FRONT OF MY SCREEN AFTER EXPERIENCING THE EMOTIONAL EQUIVALENT OF BEING FLUNG DIRECTLY INTO A BRICK WALL AT TOP SPEED AND HAVING AN HIGH ENERGY PROTON BEAM FROM A PARTICLE ACCELERATOR PASSING DIRECTLY THROUGH MY BRAIN CASSI THIS IS SOOOOO [SCREAMING SHAKING CRYING CHEWING MY WAY THROUGH KEVLAR]

NO BECAUSE THE THING IS!!!!!!! i can actually see this happening so well!!!!!!! like okay do you know that quick moment in the trailer where night is right outside day's room while mork is drying day's hair and night has this look on his face that just screams 'something is going on there and i don't like it'???? and then there's that scene where mork tells day's mom "i know the boundaries of my responsibility" and day hears it AND THEN right after that there's day's mom hugging him????? imagine night suspecting something is going on between mork and day and eventually sharing this suspicion with their mother because he feels protective over his brother and by doing so he confirms what she was already afraid of (because mork and day aren't subtle AT ALL) and for whatever reason she isn't happy with them getting too close (maybe because she thinks mork isn't sincere and she doesn't want day to get hurt, or maybe it's because of class prejudice) so she talks to mork to make sure he knows his place and this ends up making all of mork's self doubts flare up and gnaw at him, which means that when day confronts him about what he said to her, he just.. agrees with her. tells day they're too different and that this is just a job for him anyway

so they fight, like you said. and it's a very ugly fight, where they both say things they don't really mean. as bad as it gets, though, day still expects mork to show up the next day because mork ALWAYS shows up: even when day was actively trying to chase him away at the beginning, mork still kept coming. but he doesn't, now, not even the following day, or the one after that. day tries to reach out but he gets no reply and at some point his mom tells him that it's better like this, that it was gonna happen sooner or later and that they're gonna find someone else to take care of day and that day is gonna forget about mork soon. and day is just so damn tired of people telling him what's best for him and treating him like he can no longer decide for himself, so he says you know what fuck this and goes to look for mork

but then he gets hurt and night calls mork because he can tell his brother is suffering without him and mork runs to the hospital at the speed of light and at that point you couldn't separate them even if you tried (no one actually tries to, thankfully, because even day's mom can tell they love each other at this point)

ANYWAY I FEEL VERY MUCH LIKE THAT GIF OF A WOMAN TALKING TO HERSELF RN THIS IS SO GONNA ACTUALLY HAPPEN THANK YOU FOR THE DERANGEMENT CASSI IM GONNA WALK INTO TRAFFIC

[madamscream]

please stop sending me fundraising asks. i have some very specific mental health issues and literally do not have any way to access money without at least two people checking off on it. when i had a job, i gave 98% of it away, and now that i do not, seeing them and not being able to help makes the imp gnawing on my brain really clamp down. i am actively blocking every keyword i can think of to avoid seeing them on my dashboard. getting them in my ask is actively fucking me up. i get that it doesn't really compare to what a lot of what you are going through but... i mean i've got like... less than a hundred guys i could show it to, no way to help you personally, and am hurt by seeing them. i will just delete it. i'm sorry.

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I'll take requests for whatever you'd like, but the time with which they'll be filled, if at all, is up in the air haha.

You're most likely to see fics from me featuring a dominant female or AFAB NB reader, and you're most likely to get a lot of Barbatos as a love interest here. Eventually I might willingly start writing more for other characters, but the desire to do so has been preventing me from putting anything out at all. So I'm shifting my focus to just writing what I actually want to write until I can be more consistent, and that's Barbatos smooches/smut.

Warning RE: Tags

Every time I try to put together a tagging system for reblogs, I stop reblogging things. Stuff I make and post myself will be tagged so people can find it and for blog navigation, but reblogs are only gunna get my rambles anymore, I'm sorry.