#no they care about guilting people into following their bullshit

[intheholler]

re: hurricane helene hey, y'all. so... immense survivor's guilt, subsequent depression and an overall helpless malaise has made my presence on tumblr here weaker during this horrific time. but there's nothing like some good ol appalachian rage to light a fire under the proverbial ass so i'm back to push back on some of the bullshit i keep seeing get spread about what's happening in the aftermath of hurricane helene, and in western north carolina especially. 

appalachia has always been low hanging fruit for the rest of the nation, and now that disaster has struck and we are even more vulnerable than we have been in a long, long time, bad actors are using us as a way to further their political bullshit and conspiracies.

please use some of the cited-information below the cut to push back on and educate any family members, friends or otherwise when you see them spreading misinformation. now is your chance to help appalachia, no matter where you are in the united states. myths, rumors and other flavors of horseshit regarding hurricane helene debunked under the cut. please reblog.

Let me just get my heart out of the way before we get into the nitty gritty, cause I got things to say. #1: "Why should we help these people? They get these storms there all the time. They didn't move away or do anything to prepare for this, and now it's our responsibility?"

These storms are not at all commonplace. For much of this area, especially WNC, this level of flooding and damage--spanning an area the size of Belgium between NC and TN--is largely unprecedented. Growing up, we get told our mountains protect us, that they shield us from the really bad, and that's because historically, they have. Hurricanes blow through, and they bring with them hella wind and rain, but nothing like this.

We do not have the infrastructure for this, physical or otherwise. So many of our homes, businesses and everything in between have been standing for more than a century, unkept and brittle. Dams are breaking or near breaking because they are not meant to hold this kind of water. Our roads tend to follow creeks and rivers and thereby have been completely washed out. Keep in mind that in the individual hollers, and in most of these small mountain towns, we only got one road. You go up holler one way, and you don't come out the other side of it; you leave the way you came because it's the only path to take.

We are not built for this. We were not ready for this. We could not have prepared for this. And even if by some miracle we all received some premonition about this disaster, telling us to "just move" is NEVER the answer to vulnerable people living in volatile environments, especially ones as impoverished as Appalachia. Fuck you.

#2 "Appalachians are lazy and just want handouts, anyway."

First off--which one is it? Are we poor, pitiful fodder for concern trolls who deserve more than we're getting, or are we lazy, needy, greedy people who deserve to rot? Can't have both.

Second off--we been hearing that about us since the dawn of time. Wasn't true then, ain't true now.

Appalachia has been verifiably exploited as long as there have been people to exploit, but that is a topic long since discussed here.

We don't WANT anything. We NEED it. Alongside the aid coming in through donations, official search and rescue and organized volunteer services, much of the boots on the ground are Appalachians themselves!! We take care of our own, and it's always been that way.

They got people on foot hiking up into the hollers to bring supplies to cut-off communities. They got pack mules passing otherwise impassable roads where no car nor other vehicle can tread to get lifesaving necessities to the hollers. Look around, and you'll find countless stories. Just in my personal circle alone, I got a sister bringing supplies up by foot, and her hiking group is moving through so much toxic mud that the soles of their fucking boots are melting. I got a brother in law taking chainsaws to downed trees to clear the path for supply deliveries. I got another sister meeting friends of mine at the state line to collect donations and distribute them by hand to counties all over WNC. We can do this, but we can't do it alone.

#3 "It's a conspiracy/It's not that widespread outside of Asheville because we don't see pictures of anywhere else."

It's happening. It's fucking happening.

You don't see pictures because many of us don't have reliable cell service right now, let alone wifi. Hell, even in perfect weather there's a joke that you better have a friend with a cell phone from each provider when you go out because only one of you is getting service at any given time in any given place. There is no way to document this from the inside for many folks at this point in time, and there is NO WAY IN from the outside.

As I mentioned--you got one road leading up the holler. That road is now gone. No one is making it up the mountain to take pictures of these horrific scenes, y'all. If they're going up the mountain its to care for their neighbors, to bring supplies to individuals and entire communities so isolated by the devastation that the only way they can be reached is on foot (or hoof!).

Which also brings me to my next counterargument: "Nothing is being done to help."

#4 "Volunteers are being turned away/Donations are being confiscated."

Volunteers are being DISCOURAGED from coming in out of state, but they're not being told to leave with a malicious intent. And they are not even being forcibly denied. They can still come, but it's really not a good idea. As I mentioned, these roads wasn't meant to take this kind of damage. They are falling apart, and all this extra traffic coming in on these streets barely hanging on is making them worse and making it harder for organized relief and rescue operations to actually get in there. People are getting stuck and taking away time and resources that could be going to survivors. Outsiders with good intentions are eating up the scarce gas and using up even scarcer water. Some of these places, like Black Mountain, physically do not have enough hands to manage and distribute the amount of donations being brought in in, so they're getting rerouted. Donations are not fucking being confiscated.

#5 "They aren't letting people be rescued/They're closing the airspace off."

The airspace is OPEN, with some temporary restrictions in place by the FAA for civilians and volunteers. Civilians can still access airspace in coordination with officials and emergency responders. What they ain't allowing is people just flying in willy nilly. What they ain't letting in is unauthorized air traffic that is clogging up airspace which otherwise needs to be used by official aircraft to bring in donations/S&R groups. Airspace is still accessible in the area, but it's not safe to just have everyone with a big heart trying to search and rescue, especially with no training, organization or proper skills. What they ain't letting happen is people trying to take trucks up obliterated roads that can't be traveled, no matter how confident you are in your vehicle. Christ, y'all. The point isn't to add more bodies to the count!

#6 "National Guardsmen are being told not to go."

The National Guard HAS been deployed.

And in numbers, too. What you're hearing is rumor of people asking to be deployed and being told no, because that's not how it works. That's not how any of this works. People can't just rush in unorganized. There is a system. There has always been a system.

#7 "But I saw TikToks of people coming to help and locals shouting them out of town!"

Oh, honey. No, what you saw was people doing what they LOVE to do in Appalachia: take poverty tours. Record how we live. Post their poverty (and now disaster) porn with thoughts and prayers and oh those poor creatures to get likes. That's been happening to us since before TikTok. Before the internet.

During FDR's administration, photographers from the Farm Security Administration went down to collect poverty porn and turn it into Hollow Folk, a collection of photographs which was then used by eugenicists and corporations alike to dehumanize us further so we could be exploited and relocated with the favor of the nation behind them.

We're done with it. We been done with it. And now, in this time of crisis where people are DEAD, you're clogging up our roads, taking up our gas, AND shoving cameras in our face. Y'all ain't from here and now more than ever y'all kinds need to get the FUCK out.

✨ FEMA ✨

FEMA deserves its own section, because holy shit. I'm mad that I'm about to defend the man in any capacity but it needs to be done. So, I'm gonna preface this by saying, largely, fuck FEMA. There are many valid complaints against FEMA and their inefficiency, but right now is not the time to use them as a tool of misinformation against Appalachia. We got enough problems without pouring the salt of government conspiracies into these raw, gaping wounds that barely even have bandaids applied to them right now.

SO. Let's get into it.

#8 "This is all planned and by design/Don't evacuate, because FEMA is just gonna take your land and mineral rights!"

If they wanted the fucking lithium or anything else for that matter, they would just enact Eminent Domain. They don't need elaborate schemes and """weather control""" to take it. They can just literally... do it. Did we all fail civics in middle school?

(And this is purely anecdotal so I have no proof of this, but a friend of mine told me a few days ago people were actually being told NOT to evacuate in Lake Lure because they didn't anticipate the flooding to be this bad.)

What y'all SHOULD be worried about are these companies and their "disaster investors" who swoop in like fucking vultures and try to get people to sell their land before FEMA has a chance to assist them. These companies prey on the vulnerable, offering them quick cash for their land and for far less than they'd get if they held out for FEMA's relief instead.

#9. "But... but FEMA is only giving out a piddly $750 in relief!"

Yes, they are giving out $750. INITIALLY. This $750 is initial relief money for immediate needs. Medicine, food, supplies. It is NOT all that's being allocated to folks. From FEMA's website:

This is a type of assistance that you may be approved for soon after you apply, called Serious Needs Assistance. It is an upfront, flexible payment to help cover essential items like food, water, baby formula, breastfeeding supplies, medication and other emergency supplies. There are other forms of assistance that you may qualify for to receive and Serious Needs Assistance is an initial payment you may receive while FEMA assesses your eligibility for additional funds. As your application continues to be reviewed, you may still receive additional forms of assistance for other needs such as support for temporary housing, personal property and home repair costs.

A service being offered in the meantime, for example, is for temporary housing and you can still currently apply for it!

Long-term disaster relief funds are not being released immediately. That does not mean they do not exist.

Here is what FEMA has already allocated for North Carolina alone.

Please note I said "allocated" but not "paid out." Which brings me to my next point.

#10 "FEMA is giving their relief money to undocumented immigrants!"

This is false, and you can verify this for yourself. Cash payouts to undocumented immigrants isn't even a thing, dude. They haven't even paid out to citizens in their entirety yet. From the FEMA page "Questions and Answers for Undocumented Immigrants Regarding FEMA Assistance:"

This is in regards to STATE, LOCAL AND VOLUNTEER AGENCIES. Not through FEMA or any other federal programs. This is probably what people are hearing about, and not even bothering to look into it before running off to tell lies.

And in this, as you can see--undocumented immigrants who CAN receive assistance are not receiving cash. They are not just getting money handed over to them to spend on whatever your racist, xenophobic uncle thinks they are. FEMA is required by law to report on the use of their funds each month by the 5th day. Historically, it looks like it takes about a week for them to be posted. Keep an eye on this page to see for yourself in coming days that FEMA is not giving out money from their funds to immigrants.

#11 "But FEMA has appointees from Biden!!! How can we trust that this is the truth?!"

Please use critical thinking skills. Please, we beg. Yes, there are appointed FEMA officials from this administration, but there are also appointed officials from Trump's time in office. What sense does it make that during Trump's administration, FEMA employees were Good And Pure, and suddenly, just because they are active under Biden's administration, they are suddenly Evil And Corrupt? This is clear bias and has no solid footing.

Besides, the President doesn't even have any sway over FEMA funding like this. That is ALL congress.

H.R. 9747 "Continuing Appropriations and Extensions Act, 2025," which provides relief funding (among other things) for the 2025 fiscal year, was ACTIVELY VOTED AGAINST by Republicans, including Matt Gaetz and Marjorie Taylor Greene--two people spreading the bullshit the loudest. UGH. Okay. In exasperated conclusion: Please, please, PLEASE leave Appalachia alone and let us get back on our feet without having to constantly dodge dumbass conspiracy theories. We are heartbroken and grieving and would really appreciate a brief reprieve from being the nation's fucking punching bag. Help us, don't hurt us.

[strnilolover]

NNN - chratt - don’t wanna be a bother

(use of y/n)

It started small.

At first, it was skipping group movie nights, claiming you were tired or had too much work to do. Then it became declining dinner invites, texting a quick excuse that you’d already eaten or weren’t feeling well. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal — that they probably didn’t even notice. But each little withdrawal felt like a weight lifting off your chest, even as a heavier one settled in its place.

You couldn’t explain it. Everything in your life seemed fine — better than fine, even. Matt and Chris were always there for you, always so kind, so attentive. But that was the problem. They deserved someone who could match their energy, someone who could give as much as they took. And you weren’t that person.

Lately, you’d been drowning in your own thoughts, convinced that your presence in their lives was more of a burden than a blessing. They had their own worries, their own struggles, and here you were, dragging them down with your constant overthinking and neediness.

It was a Wednesday night when Matt had texted you, asking once more for you to go over and hang out.

Matt: Hey, you coming over? Chris and I are ordering pizza. Your favorite. Don’t make us eat this greasy mess alone.

You stared at the message, your heart aching at the casual warmth in his words. You wanted to go. You wanted to sit with them, laugh at Chris’s dumb jokes, and listen to Matt ramble about whatever random topic was on his mind that day. But the thought of showing up, of letting them see the cracks forming in you, felt unbearable.

You: Can’t tonight. Sorry. Work’s been crazy.

The response was a lie. You had no work, no pressing deadlines. You sat on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand as the guilt washed over you.

You could almost hear Matt’s sigh as his reply came through.

Matt: Alright. But you better be free this weekend. We miss you.

Your chest tightened. They miss me? you thought bitterly. They’d be better off without me.

The pulling away became easier the more you did it. You stopped texting them first, waited hours to respond to their messages. When Chris called to check in, you let it go to voicemail. You told yourself they didn’t need you — that you were doing them a favor by giving them space.

But the truth was, it hurt. It hurt to distance yourself from the people who made you feel safe, who made you feel wanted. The inner conflict was constant, your mind a battleground of self-loathing and longing.

They’ll be fine without you, one voice sneered. They’ve got each other. What do you even bring to the table?

They care about you, another voice whispered. You’re pushing them away for no reason. You shook your head, the war raging louder as the days passed.

A week had passed before Matt and Chris had finally had enough. Enough of their worrying and what was going on with you. It was Friday night, you were watching a tv show that you’d seen a hundred or more times — it didn’t really pique your interest much anymore.

But when the knock on your door came that evening, you didn’t answer it right away. You sat frozen on the couch, staring at the door as your heart raced — the show being forgotten in the background.

“Y/N,” Matt’s voice called softly. “We know you’re in there. Please let us in.” he said, a light ‘thump’ being heard against the door.

You hesitated before finally standing and opening the door. The sight of them — their familiar faces, their worried expressions — made your chest ache.

Chris stepped inside first, his brows furrowed as he looked you over. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You’ve been avoiding us. Don’t say you haven’t, because we both know it’s true.” he said, eying you down.

Matt followed, his eyes scanning your face for answers. “Talk to us, love. Please.” and you looked away, unable to meet their eyes. “I’m fine,” you muttered.

Chris let out a frustrated sigh. “Bullshit. You’ve been pulling away from us for the whole week, Why?” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matt’s head tilted, confusion and hurt written across his face. “Bother us? Y/N, what are you talking about?” Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “You don’t need me,” you blurted. “You have each other. I’m just… extra. I don’t want to drag you down with my problems.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his voice sharp but not unkind. “Do you really think that little of yourself? That we’d be better off without you?” he said, his hand reaching out to grip your wrist softly.

Matt reached for your other hand, his grip warm and steady. “You’re not extra, love. You’re our’s and we don’t walk away when things get hard.” he stated. The tears finally spilled over your waterline, and you shook your head. “I feel so broken. I don’t know how to fix it.” you admitted, feeling the aching in your chest deepen more than it had.

Chris’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. “You don’t have to fix it alone. Let us help you.” he whispered. “All you have to ever do is ask and we’ll help you baby.”

Matt joined the hug, his hand gently stroking your hair. “We love you, Y/N. All of you. Even the messy parts. Especially the messy parts.”

Chris leaned back slightly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Do you know how much it kills us to see you hurting like this? You’re not a burden. You’re everything to us.” he said, making sure you understood that he meant it.

Matt smiled softly and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering as if trying to chase away the pain inside you. “You don’t need to hide from us. You’re not too much, you hear me? Never.”

Chris planted a kiss on your temple, then another on your cheek. “We’d do anything to make you see how much you mean to us. Anything.”

Before you could respond to any of their words, Matt tilted your chin up gently, placing a soft kiss on your other cheek. “We’re not going anywhere. Ever.”

They surrounded you with their affection as they peppered your face with kisses — your forehead, your cheeks, your nose.

You let out a broken laugh, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “You guys are ridiculous.” Chris grinned at that, pressing one last kiss to the tip of your nose. “Ridiculously in love with you.” Matt nodded, his arms tightening around you. “And we’ll keep reminding you until you believe it.”

For the first time in weeks, your chest didn’t feel as heavy — sure it was still there, but maybe it was okay to let them in. You weren’t a burden to them. You were loved — messy, broken pieces and all.

a/n : and that my people, is a wrap on No Nut November. thank you for all the love and support that was shown on all these blurbs/fics!! and this one was a little rushed so hopefully it’s okay. but now i’ll go to posting maybe 2 times a week because i am overly exhausted between my two jobs and other things. LOVE YOU ALL SM.

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care

Take care of your body

Why You Should Take a Break: The Importance of Rest and Relaxation

I Think I Need to Go the Emergency Room?

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Ask the Bitches: Ugh, How Do I Build the Habit of Taking Meds?

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Survive in an Apartment with No Heat?

The Expensive Difference Between Recreation and Recovery 

Take care of your mind

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Everything Is Stressful and I’m Dying: How to Survive a Panic Attack

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

Ask the Bitches: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Update: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Absolve Myself of Financial Guilt Over My Pricey PS4?

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

Take care of your time

Stop Measuring Your Time in Beyoncé Hours

Help! I’m Procrastinating and I Can’t Get Up!

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

Actually, Fuck Big Goals

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

I’ve Succeeded at Every New Year’s Resolution I’ve Ever Made. Here’s How.

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

8 Free Time Management Systems To Try in the New Year

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD 

I Am So Over Productivity Porn 

Take care of your career

High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract

I Hate My Job and I Don’t Know How To Leave It: A Confession

A New Job, a New Day, a New Life, and I’m Feeling Good

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

How Abusive Workplaces Mirror Abusive Relationships 

Take care of your space

How to Successfully Work from Home Without Losing Your Goddamn Mind (Or Your Job)

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?

How To Maintain Your Car When You’re Barely Driving It

Take care of your people

How Dafuq Do Couples Share Their Money?

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

Love in the Time of Coronavirus: How to Protect Your Community and Your Soul from COVID-19

Be Somebody’s Eliza with a Simple Yet Life-Changing Act of Kindness 

The Ultimate Guide to Helping a Sick Friend 

Learning To Reverse the Golden Rule

I Have Become the Rich Relative I Always Wanted  

Take care of your financial well-being

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Make Myself Financially Secure Before Age 30?

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?

Slay Your Financial Vampires

Should Artists Ever Work for Free?

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Financial Math

Share My Horror at the World’s Worst Debt Visualization

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

A (Somewhat) Comprehensive List of Fun Job Perks that Won’t Pay Your Rent

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

Join the Bitches on Patreon

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sheer Irony

(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:58 p.m

Titans!Jason Todd/fem!reader angst/fluff (TW: Suicide Mention/Attempt)

—

A faint breeze blows along your cheeks as you open the door, eyes glazing over a broad horizon full of dreary skies and rooftops. You find who you’re looking for standing ontop of a metallic platform framing along the edge of the building, his downturned head peering down at the dense, vacant streets below.

A long, harsh, catastrophic drop with just the wrong step.

Confusion rattled your mind when you wondered exactly what the hell was going on, never seeing such a trifling event happen in the common area. Millions of questions followed once you heard the screaming.

A million more followed suit when you walked in on the hostile environment, the air thick with static tension.

“You people are insane!” He had cried out by the second you entered the room, surprised to find a short crowd of people against him. Friends, colleagues, all glaring at him with accusations you didn’t fully hear.

“I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes,” Jason states with an emotional quiver in his tone, growing more detectable towards the end of his words. “You think everything’s my fault.”

“Jason?” You call out to him, seeing his head lightly peek over his shoulder. Whether he heard you or not, he knew you arrived once the door was slammed shut behind you due to the wind.

“What do you want?” He asks with understandable bitterness wrapped up in a solemn tone, as if you were a stranger he could’ve cared less about.

Technically, you and Jason were colleagues for a long time, but never really reached the category of friends.

He was an obnoxious, painfully reckless Robin, but he was good. You were good, training yourself to set your differences aside to put the tasks at hand. You provided data, not violence.

The task now was to set those barriers of yours down with intentions to knock on his.

“To talk.” You reply, not wanting to approach further than you had to, but a huge part of you wanted to go further.

“Look. I don’t wanna hear any more bullshit—“

“Not about that,” you insist. “Just to talk, that’s all.”

To talk, to buy time. Anything.

Waves of guilt coursed through your veins for him, for his safety. The strong winds could easily sweep him off his feet if he allowed it, the tension in his braced legs preventing him from slipping off the ledge he stood on for now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jason states, his lungs burning with reach trembling breath he took. “The others think you’re crazy following me out here.”

“I don’t care what they think,” was your response, rooftop gravel crunching underneath your shoe as you took a slow step forward. “I don’t want you to be alone out here. That’s what matters.”

“Why?” He questions, refusing to turn around and face you with full disbelief on his face. “You hate me. You can’t stand me every time I’m around. No one can.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, slowly getting yourself to take another step forward. About four feet of distance remained between you and Jason, your mind cluttered with ideas on how to get him

“Jason, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Jason mutters, not believing you for a good second. You understood that he wouldn’t trust anyone after what you witnessed. You didn’t want to be on that side.

The steel frames were tall enough for you to hop up yourself, but the height was unnerving.

He remained quiet, pondering his rancid emotions running nonstop in his head. He felt himself nothing but poison; black pitch that stuck to everyone who so much as touched him, costing their skin like a cancer until it killed them.

That’s what was happening now, wasn’t it? Everyone was hating him, blaming him for things he didn’t understand. Now, here you were, coming up to add onto the pile. He assumed that on the spot. Why else were you here?

Bracing your hands along the beam, you push yourself up on it, fighting back your fear of heights to put yourself into this vulnerable position. Thinking slowly, you ponder over what else you could do, thinking over in your mind.

“Wanna sit?” You say, hoping he’d take the hand that offered such an innocent suggestion. “Talking is easier to do when sitting.”

To show this, you move into a sitting position beside him, feeling a little less tense on your concerns for falling. Jason doesn’t take the bait at first, only wondering as to why you were still even trying with him.

“You don’t need to be here,” he reverberates, but you weren’t going to have it.

“Neither do you,” you glanced up at him, seeing his attention fully focused on you, sitting beside him as of the ledge was just an every day public park bench.

Reluctantly, he shifts his position, leaving you to thank the Gods. With Jason sitting, you had much better control and opportunity to catch him, with the roof behind you to break both your fall.

“Do you want the truth?” You hesitantly ask, wondering if that’s what he needed. Someone who didn’t follow the others, who didn’t view him as a scapegoat to their problems, just because the unintentional category he fell into without realizing.

Just a glance of his bruised face in your direction after staring ahead for so long gave you the sign, smoothing your sweaty palms over thighs.

“You can be… obnoxious sometimes,” you proceed, slowly making the decision to proceed. “But not dark, or annoying, or… Look. I don’t get why they accused you on the spot. I really don’t.”

Silence continued to rattle his physique. His shifting head slowly peering downwards after hearing your words. His heartbeat began drumming in his head, his lungs burning with an irritated sting, his throat going dry.

“I might not like how you are, Jason,” you blatantly confess, “But I tolerate you enough to understand that you didn’t deserve this.”

There it was. Catching him off guard by cold facts, only to soothe the blow with truth. Your truth, the truth that should matter.

Not everyone was against him.

A part of him appreciates it, but at the same time, he grew irritated at your persistence to tell him what he already knew. It only made his feelings for you that much harder to understand.

He was supposed to not like you.

You were smart, yes. You popped one liners when you helped relay information to the Titans, read books and kept journals by yourself during your free time, and listened to music when you were in desperate need of relief after plenty of audible overstimulation.

The way you had your hair styled on different days, your persistence of spraying perfume on yourself before going to bed.

You weren’t loud, you weren’t overtly quiet. You respected business and boundaries, despite your job to hack and defy the purpose of them behind a computer screen.

He hated how unique yet simple you were. No one would suspect you of your talents, balancing your double life with little to mo effort.

“You don’t deserve this, Jason,” you say in order to remind him, watching his calloused fingers slowly flexing in his lap, signifying his various difficult emotions. You’d say it as many times as you needed to, to ram it into his every day thoughts.

“I don’t hate you,” you shake your head, peering at his battered, slowly healing face. “And… maybe I don’t entirely hate just how annoying you are. Sometimes, it makes things fun on a boring night.”

The corner of his busted lip rose in a faint, subtle smile. That made an interesting amount of sense. Maybe he was the type to irritate you on purpose, especially during his much earlier days.

His much earlier, flirtier Robin days.

“How annoying?”

Maybe, just maybe, being his friend didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Horribly,” you instantly reply as it became your turn to smile. “I mean it. Every day I wake up and dread what stupid thing you’d say next. What could you possibly say today for me to cringe at.”

If the both of you weren’t sitting on the edge of a building, Jason would have half a heart to nudge you with his shoulder. But, he knew your fear of heights.

“You think of me?”

“It’s hard not to, Jay.”

—

“Did I miss a party?” You announce as you enter the dark, gloomy hallway, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of two tall men talking to one another. A pile of unconscious bodies explaining their rigorous treatments just moments before you arrived.

“You missed the fun,” Jason chides, an amused smirk quickly growing on his face. The first full bodied smile Tim had seen on Jason since they met.

“A little earlier, you coulda joined in on your kickass computer skills.”

“Oh, ha ha,” you say, catching sight of Jason’s said laptop abandoned on the ground, bits of broken glass hinting at an unsalvageable screen. “Looks like someone beat me to it already.”

“It’s you.” Tim’s voice makes your head raise, giving the man a smile as you take in his Robin uniform.

“It’s me,” you reply, feeling a nostalgic flutter in your chest upon seeing that uniform worn by someone new. “I see Dick passed on the torch. How’s it feel?”

“He’s learning fast,” Jason gestures with a raised finger before pointing towards the bodies. “Very fast.”

“I see that.”

Ever since you had made the choice to step back from your position with the Titans a while back, life had gotten more chaotic in very unexpected ways.

You changed; in heart, in mind, in maturity.

You’ve grieved your best friend’s death, silently took pleasure in violent justice in the deaths of those who’ve betrayed and harmed your colleagues. You grieved once more when masks were unveiled, and even aided the wrong crowds for a while.

At your age, you’ve seen it all, you’ve learned from other peoples mistakes, as well as your own. You hated it, but accepted the lessons learned. As off as that sounds, that’s the best way you could describe it.

You kept in touch with Dick when he needed the help from the ‘attractive computer geek,’ so you were at least aware of what was going on. Hearing it all from Tim’s perspective brought back the times when you used to work alongside a particular ex-Robin, who remained standing close to your side during all topics of discussion.

“I got to meet the great Red Hood,” you watched with a smile a few steps up on the staircase as Tim prods Jason’s chest in a friendly manner, causing a flare in his ego as he chuckles in response.

“Don’t forget her,” Jason gestures his head up towards you, Tim’s eyes catching the faint flush in your cheeks.

“Poor girl’s kept us from running around with our heads cut off for years.”

“Always gotta respect the tech workers,” Tim agrees with a nod, making you scoff in amusement. “At least you didn’t call me ‘customer support’. That’s Grayson’s favorite.”

You said you were leaving when Tim was considerate to offer you a ride, but you brush off that you had your own, intending to head out for a date in two hours.

But, you weren’t.

The Titans, old or new, didn’t need to know all your secrets, regardless if cracking them was your specialty.

“You gave him your bike?” You ask once he gets off the phone with said old bird, approaching him as he gazed up at a clear board with various equations scrawled on the surface.

“Just sits there getting dust in the corner. I trust him to take care of it.” Jason sips at his dark drink once more before trailing off to the side, setting the bottle down.

“Still on for tomorrow night?” Jason asks, watching smile form on your face. The date. It was kinda true.

“Of course. Just came by to get my lipgloss.” You smirk, raising up your cherry flavored lip product you had to fetch from under his bed where it had rolled. “Forgot it here last night, remember?”

“How could I ever.” Jason replies with a lowered rumble, recalling all the memories of the night prior, involving getting sticky, glittery cherry gloss along his lips, leaving remnants of it smeared on his neck after a very short, sexually tense conversation.

“Kinda thought you’d wear a scarf when you showed up,” he teases as he approached, amused at your eye roll.

“I don’t do scarves, Todd,” you state, feeling it harder to fight off a smile. Your hands ease off your hips to settle across Jason’s broad shoulders.

“Whatever you say, shortcake.”

By now, you should take up a job at being a makeup counter girl, especially considering how well you managed to cover up your hickies over the span of many, many months.

Your nose lightly brushes with his, his lips merely missing yours on purpose, planting a single kiss on the corner of your mouth before holding you closer, your hips smugly fitting into his hands.

You were a breath of fresh, rainstorm air after a dark storm, your perfume clinging to his clothes for days.

“Was thinkin’,” he murmurs. “We’d try to reenact last night for our date night.”

“Hmm, with a different flavor?”

“You taste a lot better without it.”

You giggle, settling your hands along his back to keep secure in this comforting embrace.

“You think of me like that?” The words softly leave your lips.

He smiles down at you, his eyes full of warmth and comfort in your presence, cradling your right cheek after fixing a bit of your hair. He can’t help but shift attention to your pretty lips; perfect petal soft skin that displayed the prettiest of smiles to his god awful humor.

“It’s hard not to, babe.”

[lostintransist]

I can't keep doing this to myself...

My brain spit out an idea at me that I don't want to lose so you get to suffer with me under the weight of this idea until I have the time space energy ADHD hyperfocus to start on it.

This is not edited. Goal is to get the thought out of my head, not to make it perfect.

So imagine for me if you will that in some version of the stories for whatever reason I can bullshit into making sense Simon is selected to undergo a new and experimental form of trauma therapy. Used she/her here but when I write it pronouns will be you/yours

He hates it but orders are orders and after losing Johnny (his best mate, his lover, the other half of his soul) he would do just about anything to crawl from under the weight of the grief and guilt. Accepting the assignment means being put under sedation regularly for anywhere from six months to a year. During the sedation your active mind will remian awake and will begin to interact with a simulation that will help deal with the traumas exisiting in his body and mind.

Simon, not 100% on board, accepts the assignment but when he wakes up in some of his worst memorires ignores the woman following him from scene to scene, offering help. Every time he cowers as a child she offers a hand. Each time he bites back the fear flooding his system on a battlefield she offers to take the bullet instead.

For months he ignores her, trying to defeat his demons on his own. This was his mind and his body dammit, he could do this.

She stops offering help but doesn't leave. Trailing behind him in his memories Simon always finds flowers strewn in his footsteps. He never bothered to learn her name. When her laughter starts to haunt his dreams he watches her instead of his memories.

Whoever had programed this simulation had taken great care in creating a realistic interaction point. She makes ugly faces before she sneezes in the barns he has hid in, always complains about hayfever. Her ring finger on her right had been broken before, he can tell from the slight bend between the second and third knuckle. Every time he entered the simulation she wore something different, sometimes tugging on pants as if they wouldn't stay up.

"What should I call you?"

"Mmm?" She looks up from a book she had pulled down from a shelf in a dilapidated kitchen. "Oh, I'm not real so you can call me whatever you want."

He stared at her, frustrations mounting.

"Back to the silent treatment? Okay, this recipe looks actually really yummy," she turns to look back to the book.

Simon stalks up and snatches it from her hands. There is actually handwritten recipes. For some reason this makes Simon's rage double. How? How could this be real? He never opened a book in this kitchen. All that happened here was patching his wounds while waiting for exfil.

Their pattern continues like that until his brain finally spits out Johnny's death. He had been so, so careful to never let that memory come up. When it does Simon is so blindsided that when she offers to help he finally accepts.

Not knowing what to expect from this interaction did not prevent Simon from being surprised at how she handled it. She started to hum as she froze the memory, touching and moving pieces and people until everything had rewound a few moments.

"You have to sit it in, this pain. Talk to him. Tell him everything you didn't get a chance to. The longer you can sit in the agony the sooner it will find peace." She takes him by the hand and pulls him to his love.

Simon cries, like the young boy who needed safety and only found hate or indifference. Through blubbering sobs he tells Johnny every word he regretted hording. When Johnny hugs him back, mouth moving and voice saying things Simon had only dreamed of he found a semblenece of peace.

When his heartrate returns to normal and the only proof this interaction happened is the hollow space in his chest where Johnny will continue to exist his compaion steps back from Johnny, appearing as if from the dust.

"I think that is enough today. You did good." Turning on her heel she walks away, disappearing into the folds between memories.

Simon had never seen her leave before, he always ended the sessions before she had a chance.

He lets her help then, this nameless woman. They conquer every memory and the vaguest notions of memories that bother him. This intensive work paired with his weekly therapy leaves his with the skills to deal with the nightmares, the PTSD, and the trauma that still manifests from time to time.

Can one fall in love with a figment of imagintion? Simon thinks he might have. The final session he confesses, brushing his lips against hers as she sobs.

"But I'm not real. Simon, you can't love me I'm not real."

"Johnny's not real either anymore. I still love him. I'll keep you in my bones next to him, both of you keeping me safe."

She runs then, between memories and fears until she disappears and ends the sesion.

Simon, upon requesting more sessions, is informed that he has completed the program and all his care is being turned over to the non-intensive team that his therapist is a part of. Oh she shouldn't have argued with him or cut off their sessions. Now he knows she is real, the woman the knocked around his brain and fought back the demons for him.

Now all he had to do? Find her.

For anything I am currently working on check out my masterlist. This is getting dropped into my drabbles for later.

[jollyreginaldrancher]

My take on Lottie relinquishing her power in season 2 is not that she saw the violence that their survival necessitated and couldn't deal with the guilt but that she realized they stepped into a new era where it's not her comfort and guidance they need, it's a hunter...it's food. It's Nat they needed.

She was perfectly capable of devouring Jackie to stay alive. And if it came to it she wanted to be eaten. She wasn't horrified by the hunt. It didn't sit well with her that they decided to hunt when she was willing to die for them.

And the crux of that situation is that she realized that her role was really symbolic. She was a figurehead, not a leader. They wouldn't even obey her final wishes. And Nat had been opposing her for months. She couldn't even do the one thing she wanted to do, which is unify the group and help them cope.

So she delegated her power to the strongest person she knew. The one who has the balls to go against her and the one whose judgement she trusted the most. Because for all her faults, the most redeeming quality of Nat's is her empathy. Her heart. And that's what she trusts in a person. Misty is smart and she's empathetic and she loves deeply and has a great heart, and so does Taissa and some of the other contenders, but they are logical and they are ruthless and to a point they are gutless.

She saw the direction they were going and she realizes that she is losing control of them and she picked Nat because Nat is the leader they need right now. The hunter.

Don't get me wrong, they can all lead, and they can all do what needs to be done, but in different ways. Misty can be calculating and ruthless, but acts out impulsively a lot, and that works to her detriment. Furthermore she's better not as a ruler when the attention is all on her but behind the scenes, augmenting, rather than obeying or rather influencing the outcome of things in her own way rather than setting strict rules and ordering people around.

Look at the hunt-off or Natalie's hunt. She's not a follower. She'll obey and go along with a plan but when a better one comes along she's an opportunist who will jump at the better opportunity. And while that's a good thing to have to survive, as a leader you need to be someone with follow-through like Natalie.

Taissa has the opposite flaw, where she pushes and takes things too far, doubling down on her opinions because she's always sure she's right, and doesn't care about the collateral damage, she will carry through whatever plan she has, and if normal Tai can't do it, other Tai will. She's susceptible to manipulation by Van, and she's not open minded at all, but she'll bend the knee for Van's sake so that makes her a bit of a liability. Also the fact that she has to mentally check out to do certain things that aid in her survival, such as eat Jackie.

Shauna doesn't want to rule, she just wants to be picked. She genuinely just wants the power and none of the responsibility. The way she put all the blame on Jackie for Shauna making the life choices she did? Yeah, she'll not take any responsibility as leader and Lottie knows, and as much as she likes her or wants to support her and sympathizes with her losing her best friend, she knows that she would absolutely mismanage her power and then complain and make it everybody else's fault. Shauna was the antler queen there'd be a revolt in 5 business days.

So that leaves Natalie who's stubborn and rebellious but empathetic -managed to be sympathetic to Travis even when Lottie didn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt, and stuck up for Misty of all people -who is practically considered to be the human embodiment of a scab- when Shauna un-rightfully started beating on her, so Lottie knows she'd be a just leader. She doesn't go too far when she thinks she's right, having called a truce on Lottie, and even when she thinks something is bullshit, like drinking Lottie's blood for good luck and shit, she'll still bend the knee for the greater good and for other people's peace of mind, which Misty would do too, but Shauna and Taissa would be too proud to.

Van and Travis would not be considered leadership material cause they were some of the biggest followers of hers. Both also have a partner which makes them impartial to all but one person in the group at least. Plus it's not likely people would take well to a guy being placed in a leadership position over a whole group of women. Just no.

So Lottie gave the role to the person she thought was strongest, most likely to do the right thing even when it's not popular, and is willing to go where she needs to in order to keep everyone alive. Has empathy for everyone and isn't likely to sideline anyone or use the power to her advantage. Is willing to be flexible and cede to things she doesn't like for the sake of the group but is stubborn enough to not be a complete pushover. Mainly doesn't do things for approval, does things because of her moral compass, which is something that doesn't guide most of them.

[lady-lostmind]

The Wall

Love is: Letting yourself be loved.

a @steddielovemonth prompt Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 1490 | CW: very brief smut | Rating: E

ao3 link or under the cut

Steve has always had trouble believing people really care about him. He spent a lot of time alone growing up. A lot of holidays with nannies when his parents went off on vacation. A lot of birthdays on his own. He never really had actual friends. Even in high school. He just had…followers. He had people who liked what he could give them. A big empty house and a lot of guilt money from his parents. Of course he was popular. That didn’t mean people actually liked him. That they gave a shit about him. 

He thought he finally found that in Nancy. That he finally knew what it was like to have someone care. That really loved him. 

Bullshit.

One word. That’s all it took. Alone again. 

It’s taken a lot of time to let himself believe the people in his life now want to be there. Robin has helped. Having someone he can count on to be there whenever he needs her. Learning that love can come in different forms. That even though Steve misread things in the beginning, she stayed. That she chooses to spend all her spare time with him. That she wants to work the same shitty job together so they can spend even more time together. She’s the first person he’s let the wall slip down for. That he lets really see him. Isn’t afraid she’ll drop him if he lets her get to know him. 

Steve wants to let that wall down for Eddie. He knows he’s going to lose him if he doesn’t. Knows he’s not being fair to him. But it’s hard. And Steve is scared.

They’ve been together for almost a year now. Steve loves him. He loves him more than anything. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. To stare into his big brown eyes and whisper it over and over. To show him in every touch of their skin. He loves him so fucking much. But he hasn’t said it. Actually…he hasn’t said it back. 

It’s been months since Eddie first murmured those words against his lips. At first, Steve had written it off. Eddie was buried to hilt in his ass at the time. Hurtling closer and closer to the edge. He thought he didn’t mean it. That he just got…caught up in the throws of passion. But then he’d said it again. 

They were laying in Steve’s bed, wrapped around each other, close to dozing off, Eddie’s hand trailing softly along his side. “I love you, Steve Harrington.” 

It was quiet. A whisper, really. And Steve had panicked. Screwed his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. That he hadn’t really heard. He felt Eddie settle in against his back, slipping off to sleep himself, and Steve laid there, heart hammering in his chest and mind whirling. Because if Eddie started talking like that– Steve would start to believe him. And then Eddie would inevitably get tired of him. Would stop thinking the clinginess was cute. Would realize how dull he is. Eddie would move on. He’d leave Steve behind for bigger and better things. And Steve would be crushed. He wouldn’t survive this one. 

So, when that little crack started forming in Steve’s wall, the moment he heard those words slip from Eddie’s mouth, he tried to patch it. Build it higher. Stronger. Because if it came crumbling down, Steve would come down with it. 

He never mentioned it to Eddie. He ignored the way Eddie’s eyes would linger on him when they fell quiet. The tension growing more and more the longer they sat in silence. He knew Eddie wanted to ask. Or maybe wanted him to ask. Or he was waiting for a response. An answer to the unasked question that comes along with those words. Do you love me too? And Steve does. Of course he does. But if he says it, the wall will come down. 

It’s been months. Eddie hasn’t said it again. Steve doesn’t know if he’s accepted that maybe Steve just didn’t hear him. That he really was asleep, or if Eddie has taken his silence as his answer. That Steve hasn’t brought it up…or said it back, because he doesn’t feel the same. Maybe Eddie’s busy building walls of his own. Because there’s been a shift. 

It’s subtle. They still see each other almost everyday. Eddie still flashes him that million watt smile when he walks through the door. They still fall into bed with each other. But there’s less and less soft kisses. Eddie’s hands don’t linger long after they finish. He still nods when Steve asks if he’ll stay. Still wraps his arms around him when they fall asleep. But in the morning, he’s gone. Doesn’t linger for morning breath make-out sessions and wandering hands. 

Steve knows he’s pulling away. Slowly. Like it’s killing him to do so. Like he’s fighting against his need to stay. But he knows if he doesn’t fix this soon, he’ll lose him for good. 

–

Steve taps his fingers on the steering wheel, hitting the horn again as Robin stumbles out the front door, shoes in her hands, and runs over to the car, slamming the door shut as she flops into the passenger seat. “I was still brushing my teeth when you pulled up, dingus. You’re like twenty minutes early!”

Steve doesn’t even pull away from the curb. She’s right. They have plenty of time before their shift. He turns in his seat to face her. “Eddie said he loves me.” 

Robin drops her shoes in her lap, mouth popping open a little in shock. “When?” 

Steve sighs. “Three months ago.” 

Robin’s mouth drops even further and she smacks his arm. “Why didn’t you tell–” 

Steve watches Robin’s face fall. Sees the pity glaze over her eyes. “Oh, dingus. You didn’t say it back?” 

Steve shakes his head. “The first time was– well. Let’s just say I wasn’t going to hold him to it the first time–”

Robin’s face scrunches in disgust.

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores her. “But after. We were falling asleep. He said it again and I–” He winces. “I pretended I didn’t hear. That I was sleeping.”

Robin’s mouth pops open again and she swats his arm. “What did you do that for!?” 

Steve rubs his stinging arm and flails his hands around. “I don’t know! I just–couldn’t say it! And now things are weird. Like he knows I heard him. I just– I don’t know Robs. I don’t know if I can do this again.” 

Robin sighs and leans forward, grabbing his face and making him look at her. “Listen to me, Steve Harrington.” She shakes his head a little in her hands. “That boy loves you. I knew that long before you told me all this. It’s obvious.” A little smile tugs at her mouth. “And Eddie is not Nancy Wheeler.”

Steve winces, tries to drop his eyes but Robin pulls his attention back to her with another little shake. “No– Listen to me.” She stares into his eyes until he sighs and nods. “I know you have trouble believing people love you. But take it from me, someone who absolutely does. Someone who knows exactly how lucky they are to have you in their life. Eddie loves you. And if you just let him, he’s not going anywhere.” 

Steve sucks in a ragged breath, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. “He’s pulling away. I can feel it.” 

Robin shakes her head. “Because you’re pushing him, babe.” 

–

Steve drops Robin off at work apologizing over her insistence that it’s fine, she’ll cover for him, and he should go now. “Steve. Go get your idiot. I’ll be fine.” 

He feels like he’s going to puke. Can’t believe he almost let this slip through his fingers. Hopes it isn’t too late. That he didn’t fuck this up. That he didn’t ruin everything because he was scared. Is scared, as he feels that crack forming again. His carefully crafted wall starting to come down. 

He pulls up in front of Eddie’s and hurries to the door, knocking quickly before he loses his nerve, shifting on his feet as he waits for–

Eddie pulls open the door, his brows scrunching in confusion. “Hey, I thought you had to wor–”

“I love you.” Steve just blurts it out. Knows if he hesitated at all he would chicken out. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he freezes in the doorway. Steve hovers on the porch, heart pounding in his chest, his palms get sweaty as what feels like an eternity passes before Eddie seems to come to himself, a wide grin spreading on his face. He reaches out and tugs Steve inside by the collar of his shirt, slamming the door behind him and pressing him against it in a fierce kiss. 

Eddie chuckles against his lips and shakes his head. “I knew you heard me, you little shit.”

[sufferu]

Been working on this one for a while! :D

Reaction Ficlet: The Cave

____

“Why are you pretending to be a madman?”

Ferris snorted.

Everyone abruptly turned to look at him.

“That’s such bullshit,” he muttered, in answer to their unspoken question. “He’s nyot faking this. Petelgeuse is full of shit.”

“…How can you be so certain?” Julius asked tentatively. In the corner of the room, Subaru flinched. Julius hastily moved to clarify: “I’m not taking the word of a Sin Archbishop over yours, Ferris,” he said. “And even if it had been the case that he was correct—“ His eyes flickered to Subaru, trying desperately to convey his intentions through his hunched back. “— I wouldn’t be able to fault Subaru for trying everything he could to get back to his loved ones after — that — even if the method DID end up being somewhat cowardly. …But what made you come to that conclusion?”

“Because,” Ferris said stonily. “If Subaru-kyun had wanted to fake something like this, he would have had to fool a woman with the ability to read people’s intentions —“ Crusch blinked. “— the psychopathic stalker who had been making careful nyote of his every movement for the past month —“ Rem flinched. “— and also me, the greatest healer in Lugunyica. Even one of those things would have been difficult, but all of them at once? Far better liars than Subaru wouldn’t have been capable of it.”

“Your madness is too lucid,” Petelgeuse was saying. “The crafty, deliberate way you seek sympathy and beg for love, it is quite rude to those who are actually insane.”

Wilhelm growled, looking very much as though he would like to leap through the screen and tear the Archbishop’s head clean off his shoulders for that comment.

Ram stared at the screen, a look of silent agony on her face as the horrifically tragic implications of those words sunk in to her being. Was he really that desperate for uncomplicated affection, that he might go this far to get it?

“He would’ve been desperate enough to try it,” Tivey said quietly. Nothing about his tone was accusatory: his eyes were full of sympathy. “I wouldn’t put it past anyone to give it a shot in a situation that dire, and sometimes people can surprise you.”

“Nya think I’ve nyever had to deal with a patient lying about being sicker than they were?” Ferris shot back, keeping his voice quiet even despite his clear agitation. “It is nyot difficult to tell true from false — and it DEFINYITLY would nyot be hard to do so if I were examinying him so closely, or if he had been attempting to falsely mimic something that complicated, OR if it were immediately following such an emotionyally traumatizing experience on his end, let alone all three at once.” Ferris leered at the screen, his tail lashing. “That Sin Archbishop is projecting. Subaru wasn’t faking anything.”

Tivey didn’t look convinced. “But—”

“Subaru,” Ferris interrupted, letting his tone rise to a normal level of loudness as he called out to the boy in the cage. Subaru flinched. “Were nyew faking it?”

Everyone in the room erupted into yells as his question met their ears.

“Oi!” Garfiel shouted, eyes widening. “What’re you asking here??”

“Indeed, I suppose!” Beatrice agreed, visibly enraged by the accusation.

“Over the line!” Ricardo roared, eyes widening.

“Why would you ask him that?!” Tivey cried, having kept even his own assertions at Subaru’s likely guilt quiet enough for the boy not to hear any of it.

“Ferris!” Wilhelm snapped.

“I…” Subaru stared back at him, eyes wide and guilty.

“Subaru, you don’t have to answer that,” Crusch said quickly. “I’m sorry my knight asked you something so insensitive. I’ll reprimand him for it later, please just — try to relax.”

If anything, this only made him look even guiltier, prompting him to break eye contact and stare at the bottom of his cage, hugging his knees. “I might’ve been,” he admitted. “I don’t remember much about— about that loop.”

Anastasia — one of the only ones to not have reacted to the healer’s outrageous proposal — hissed softly.

“And there nya have it!” Ferris said, voice dripping with false cheer. “Nya can’t fake something that elaborate on accident. This was all real.”

“It seems she has arrived,” Petelgeuse said, in his sing-song voice.

As if to answer him, another called out from the shadows:

“—I’ve found you.”

Rem leapt forward, morning star in hand, and the fight began.

“So she did find him, then,” Julius said softly.

“Maybe he’ll escape…?” Mimi asked hopefully.

“It won’t make a difference,” Ferris said dully. “He’s dead either way. We all knyow that much.”

“You are a band of fools to enter the domain of Master Roswaal, Lord of the Mathers Territory and commit illegal acts,” Rem was saying. “With my master absent, I, Rem, sentence you to death in his place.”

“As tattered as you appear? You should not make promises you cannot keep. To begin with…” Petelgeuse grabbed Subaru by the hair, mocking her with his manhandling of his limp body. “You have come only to take this young man away from here, so enough with your convenient excuses.”

“…ch him.”

“Eh? What was that?”

“I said, DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Rem roared, launching herself forward in earnest.

“Awfully bold of him to mock an oni with the object of her affection,” Ricardo muttered darkly.

“Please get him out of there,” Otto whimpered, staring at the oh-so-familiar cave in which his friend was trapped. “Please don’t — I know he’s going to die, but please don’t let him die THERE.”

“It is deeply regrettable,” Petelgeuse lamented. “A devotee of love to an extend such as thee… Why are your eyes firmly locked on one such as this? An effete, ignorant, disgraceful, shameless sight such as this… Truly the product of sloth!”

“What do you know about Subaru?!”

“Disgusting,” Ram growled. There was only one word for this display, after all. Take your eyes off my precious sister! she wanted to shout. But it would be useless and pathetic to shout at a memory, so she bit it back.

“Please tell me Natsuki-san didn’t internalize an insult from an Archbishop of Sin,” Otto muttered, already dreading the answer.

— Knowing what he did about the man’s self-esteem, the answer was undoubtedly “Yes.”

“He isn’t finished!” Rem shouted. “I am here. I have not forgotten Subaru’s words. I will take him by the hand and lead him away. So long as I am here, he is not finished!”

“I…” Wilhelm pressed his lips together. “…am not sure how to feel about this situation.”

“Don’t get between Subaru and me!”

“Neither am I,” Crusch muttered.

“I think it would be sweet,” Ferris said casually. “If she wasn’t also his murderer.”

Julius looked at him, concerned.

“Do not speak such words so cheaply!” Rem spat. “I already have my salvation! After that night when I should have lost it all, there is no greater than what I had that morning! That is why!”

“Ah,” Rem whispered in the present moment, having realized something important. Her eyes flitted towards Subaru, curled tightly into a ball as he sat in his cage. “So that’s how it is…”

Petelgeuse lavishes rambling praises over the oni girl as she fought. He cawed, and cried, and celebrated as she rushed forward desperately to save the boy chained to the wall—

For just one moment, she caught his eye. Time slowed down. Love filled her gaze, and she opened her mouth to call out.

—and then, all at once, her body collapsed in on itself.

Everyone in the audience fell dead silent, struck dumb with shock and horror at the image in front of them.

Rem’s eyes widened, a horrified choking noise escaping her throat.

“The Authority of Sloth,” Petelgeuse whispered dramatically. “Unseen Hands.”

Julius covered his mouth with his hand, pupils having shrunk to pinpoint dots.

“You are not permitted to run from this,” the Archbishop whispered. He extended his hand forward, guiding Subaru’s eyes. “Look. Go ahead, look. Look, please. This girl is dead. She died for love. She fought while injured, struggled against her fears as she stepped forward, and died with her desires unfulfilled. Look, please. Look at her burns. This is the result of your actions.”

Wilhelm roared, breaking the silence that had just a moment before taken over the room so thoroughly. “Don’t even suggest such a thing!” he howled, momentarily forgetting that he was watching a memory. “What a vile thing to say to a victim of your own sin!”

“It was by my hand!” Petelgeuse crowed. “It was by my fingers! It was by my flesh! But it was you, you, you, you, you, you who, who, who…killed her, yes!”

“Subaru,” Otto said desperately, turning around to face the recipient of those horrible words. “Subaru, please tell me you didn’t listen to that!”

The present Subaru was shaking, having tucked himself away so thoroughly that even his ears were no longer visible.

High above them, Rem’s body danced like a puppet on strings. There was a horrible tearing sound as her muscles ripped. “Owww,” Petelgeuse mocked in a high-pitched voice. “Ow it hurts, it huurts, the pain, the paain, save me, saave me…ah, Subaru?”

“He’s dead now!” Julius suddenly shouted, eyes fixed desperately on Subaru’s shaking body. “Subaru, he’s dead! You killed him! You took care of it, he’s gone!”

“That’s enough!” Anastasia’s yell wasn’t aimed at Petelgeuse, or the other audience members, or Subaru in his cage. “That’s enough! We get it, we understand! Now stop it, let him go — you’re hurting him!”

“Subaru!” Beatrice cried, banging her fists against the glass. “Subaru!”

Inside the cage, Subaru was having what looked like a seizure. He was shaking violently all over, his mouth was starting to foam slightly, his fingernails were digging long, bloody trenches in his arms — and he wasn’t responding to anyone’s screams as they desperately attempted to snap him out of it, his eyes glazed and his mind trapped somewhere dark and cold and full of the cruel laughter of a violent madman.

Ram felt as though she was ready to pass out. Her little sister’s mutilation and desecration, her little brother’s cruel memories, the fact that she had been nowhere near EITHER OF THEM—

“N-Nee-sama?”

Ram jerked.

Her dear little sister was staring at her, alive and well, eyes full of worry. Ram croaked something intelligible, and then jumped forward to hug her tight and bury her face in her shoulder.

The Subaru onscreen had no such luxury.

“PEETEELGEEEUUUSE!” he screamed, lunging forward to bite the Archbishop’s throat. The madman jumped back, evading his attack and letting him smash his head into the rock floor — laughing at the sight. “I’ll kill you, I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! DIE! DIE! DIE, DAMN IT—”

Even knowing good and well that such a promise had long since come to fruition, Wilhelm roared in agreement. That show of pure, unbridled rage was at once comforting and agonizing in its familiarity: comforting in that it was something the old man could understand, and agonizing in that he understood too well just how much it hurt.

—Maybe if Subaru heard his show of support, it would soothe him out of that frightened, miserable state, seizing and whimpering on the floor of his cage.

The Subaru onscreen raged and screamed and cried, but Petelgeuse merely turned away from him, as though he was hardly there at all. They would continue with the plan, he announced. Regardless of this setback, they would go forth.

He turned to the wailing, enraged, frenzied boy only at the end of his little ceremony, nothing but mild interest in his eyes for the victim of his awful crime. “If you accept the Gospel into your heart,” the Archbishop declared as he left. “Then I know you shall be saved.”

Wilhelm slammed his fist into the armrest of his seat. It splintered under the force of the blow.

—Or he would have left, except that he stopped to admire his second victim before he was gone.

“You, too, are a devotee of love,” he praised. Her lifeless body dropped to the ground with a clattering sound. “You died for love, defying your destiny with all your might. However, you lie ruined and unfulfilled, having lost the object of your love, unable to fulfill your desire with emptiness hovering all around you…because you were slothful!”

And then Subaru was alone, with nothing but the dead body of a dear friend to keep him company in the dark.

“What an awful way to treat the dead,” Crusch muttered, disgust in her eyes. Disgust for this barbarity, for this senseless violence, for this injustice disguised shoddily as the hand of fate — the Soldier King Candidate condemned it all from the bottom of her heart.

The sight of Subaru being chained and left to die in that cave made Otto want to be sick. In another life, that…

That…

“So he starves this time, then?” Ferris asked tonelessly.

Otto didn’t know how to answer that. Everyone knew what was going to answer next, after all. There was only one way this could end.

“Kill you…kill you…kill you…”

He was going to be sick.

Subaru was thumping his head into the rock, exhausted and bloodied and bruises from his efforts, and all for naught: he was still trapped and sealed in his fate. And the worst part was that he didn’t even care. “Kill you…” he whispered, eyes unfocused and blurred with rage. “Kill you…I’ll kill you…”

Wilhelm stared, a very uncomfortable feeling settling in his gut.

…Perhaps he would have felt less uncomfortable, if the present Subaru was not shivering and softly crying out in his cage. If he had been able to look upon this moment with righteous vindication. If, today, he had been fully satiated with how things turned out.

But there was something that had been lost forever in that dark place, wasn’t there?

— Had Wilhelm, too, lost something of himself that was truly irreplaceable, in that dark moment when news of his wife first reached his ears?

Julius stared at this horrible scene and thought back to the moment where Subaru had entrusted him with the death of what had been his greatest enemy. A sense of guilt settled strangely in his stomach. Had he stolen Subaru’s chance at closure, back then? What right had he to steal a moment so important?

It was your rightful duty, his mind whispered. Subaru asked you to save him and his loved ones, and that is what you did.

— The vain hope slipped through Julius’ mind, then, that the boy’s nightmares of today ended with him stepping in to whisk him to safety, once and for all.

“…Why wasn’t I there…?” Reinhard whispered.

“Petelgeuse!” Subaru cried, overwhelmed with hate and rage and grief, in a cave where nobody could hear him scream. “Petelgeuse! Petelgeuse! Petelgeuse!”

Otto would have died in that cave, once upon a time. Perhaps he had, even. Had this Subaru just taken his place?

Ram gripped her sister tight.

Garfiel gripped his own knees, wanting nothing more than to launch himself forward and free his friend from that disgusting place. But this was a memory, and he could do nothing but watch.

Beatrice wasn’t even watching anymore, too busy calling out to the seizing boy who couldn’t give her a response.

And Emilia—

There was a noise. A subtle movement. Subaru raised his head to look, his eyes fixing on a truly gruesome, miraculous, horrific sight.

“No fucking way,” Garfiel gasped.

“Rem,” Subaru whimpered. Then, louder. “Rem, REM—”

He broke off, using his teeth to grab the collar of her shirt and drag her the rest of the way forward. For somehow, Rem had survived her brutal treatment at the hands of the Sin Archbishop — and even with all her limbs mangled and broken like those of a doll, had managed to crawl towards him in the dark of the cave.

“Oni strength is nothing to sneeze at,” Wilhelm muttered to himself.

Julius could only stare in awestruck, speechless horror.

Rem coughed out blood, spilling all over the manacles.

“Rem—!” Subaru whimpered, but Rem was too focused.

Too focused on — something — to respond.

“Hu…” she whispered. “…ma…”

At once, the blood that Rem had coughed up froze within the manacles. At once, the manacles broke apart, bursting from the inside.

Ricardo whistled lowly. “Smart,” he commented.

“Rem…wait,” Subaru begged. “Rem, wait, do…”

“Live…” Rem whispered. “I…lo…”

And then she was dead in his arms.

Ferris exhaled slowly through his teeth.

The wails of grief echoed from the metia and throughout the theater: long, high-pitched, punctuated by heaving gulps for air, and utterly heartbreaking.

Slowly, as she listened to someone mourn this loss so completely in her stead, Ram began to loosen her hold over her beloved sister. Slowly, she sat up again.

Rem squeezed her hands comfortingly. Ram took a deep breath, and then let go.

The sun was bright as the pair exited the cave. One of them was walking. The other rested limp in her arms, never to wake up again — not in this life.

Subaru smiled, eyes dull and faded. “Let’s go, Rem.”

Ram swallowed.

Eventually, somehow, the boy arrived back at the Mathers Estate. He was too late. The village had already burned to a crisp.

Snow had started to fall.

“Petelgeuse…” Subaru hissed.

“The snow…” Otto faltered.

Subaru had frozen to death in that last loop, they all remembered that. But Roswaal had been gone, so he couldn’t have caused it — and none of the Witch Cult had any sort of fire magic that could do the same.

So who — or what — had been responsible for it?

There were bodies. Old man, young woman, the man who gave him a sword, the lady who had flirted with him that first day — none had been spared. Each body found was more gruesome than the last.

“Petelgeuse…” Subaru snarled.

If Subaru were to lose sight of his rage, he would lose his mind. This was a situation that Wilhelm knew intimately — but he had never seen it from quite this angle before, and he was slowly realizing just how badly it unsettled him.

That rage, that anguish, that loss… Far from being embridled with righteous fury on the boy’s behalf, Wilhelm found himself wishing more than anything for Subaru to never have experienced any of it.

This was nothing but pain. There was no honor here.

Ram was dead, in front of the shed that everyone knew held the corpses of the village children. The bodies of no less than five Witch Cultists surrounded her. She hadn’t gone down without a fight.

Subaru fell to his knees in front of the manner proper, the snow picking up in a proper storm. His voice rose above it in a wail. “PETELGEUSE!”

The roof of the manor cracked, and broke, and the large head of a monster burst out of it all at once.

Julius’ eyes widened. “That—”

“But we all knyew that was coming,” Ferris muttered.

“SLEEP.”

—said the Beast of the End.

“ALONG WITH MY DAUGHTER.”

Subaru’s body had frozen solid. A gust of wind blew his head off his shoulders, and — finally — this loop of nightmares came to a close.

Emilia stared at the screen, uncomprehending. She had not said a single word since Petelgeuse had first shown himself in the cave. Her face was blank, her eyes glazed and dull.

Ram sat next to her, wordlessly placing her hand over that of her dear friend. Emilia twitched slightly, and then — gingerly — took her up on the offer, squeezing once. Neither woman said a word, wrapped in their own little bubble of silence.

On the other side of the room, Beatrice was sobbing, desperately trying to call out to her contractor curled up tight in his cage. More people were joining her, unable to bear the sight of Subaru melting down for even a moment longer. Ricardo was trying to tease him (“Kinda embarrasin’ ta see yerself cryin’ like a baby, right? Don’t worry, we won’t tell Emilia—”). Julius was trying to talk him up (“Subaru, it’s over, remember? He’s gone. He’s dead. You won, and everyone got out safe!”). Garfiel was trying to break the glass (“WHY. WON’T. THIS. BREAK—”)

But then, in the midst of everything—

“Subaru-kun.”

Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound of a name being called.

Rem was smiling gently, standing by the far side of the glass cage. How had none of them noticed her getting close. “Subaru-kun,” she called out, with the exact same inflection she had watched the version of herself on the screen voice time and again. “Subaru-kun.”

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Garfiel growled. “What are you doing?! Get away from him, you psychopath!”

“Leave him be, I suppose!” Beatrice snapped, still pressed against the glass herself. “You are the last person who should ever be allowed near him again, in fact!”

“Using a nickname like that — after everything you’ve done?” Wilhelm stood up, ready to pull her away by force. “Will you never be satisfied?” he hissed. “What more will you do to that boy?”

“That’s not fair!” It was Otto who objected, leaping forward to shield the woman from the other audience members. “Rem saved his life,” he snapped, still shaking from head to toe. “She did the best she could. If you want to blame anyone for that cruelty, then blame the Archbishop that — that forced the two of them into such a horrible situation!”

“She may have helped him once, but that doesn’t matter right now!” Julius said, striding forward with the intent to remove her by any means necessary. “Subaru shouldn’t be anywhere near her and all of you know that. Rem, I must insist that you back away!”

More voices joined the fray, each louder than the last as each one — in their confusion and terror and anguish — tried to do what they thought was right. But before a fight could well and truly break out—

“Rem…?”

Everyone froze.

Subaru was uncurling slightly. His gaze was shaky, unfocused, as if nothing else in the world existed, but then it darted over to the source of that nickname that had called out to him again and again and seemed to bring exactly one thing into focus.

Just this once, Rem told herself.

The Oni girl pulled away from the others easily, slowly kneeling on the other side of the glass. “Subaru-kun,” she called out again, in that same light, warm, cheerful voice she had not invoked even once since she had awoken in that horrible theater. “Everything’s alright now, Subaru-kun. I’m right here.”

“Rem,” he said hoarsely, as if nothing else in the world made a lick of sense, crawling forward on his hands and knees like a dog. “Rem.”

Rem didn’t move. “Yes.”

Two hands, and then a forehead pressing against the glass. Subaru’s eyes widened again in distress, a keening noise escaping him as he realized once again that he could not get out — not even to reach his — his —

“R-Rem!” he cried.

“I’m here,” Rem murmured, resting her hands against the clear surface, palm-to-palm, as if she were reaching out to hold his hands. Her forehead followed, bumping gently against the spot where Subaru’s was pressing hard enough to bruise. Soft blue eyes met a set of brown on the verge of madness, and crinkled gently at the sight. “Your Rem is right here, alright?”

Subaru couldn’t reach her. Rem couldn’t hug him. But she was there, and she was smiling gently at him from the other side of the glass, and that was enough. Tears welled up in his eyes and he finally started to cry.

“…I can’t even make fun of him for this,” Ferris said quietly, watching the exchange. “This is just—” He cut himself off.

Rem, his murderer. Rem, his torturer. Rem, his savior. Rem, the girl who loves him more than anything in the world. Rem, who died in his arms with a smile on her face. Rem, the one he cries out for in his darkest moments. Rem, his very best friend.

“…Disgusting,” Wilhelm muttered.

[drdemonprince]

It wasn't the main topic of your most recent post on substack, so I'm sending this here. In passing you talk about left-leaning neurodivergent people on social media, and the guilt and fatigue that comes from the constant avalanche of causes and events being shared.

One thing that stands out to me is how much of what I see is people borrowing grief from the future. This is probably partially due to people wanting to show that they care about it. However I feel it's more than that, because underneath that there's something else. It feels very similar to the catastrophizing autistic people in particular can be prone to. You know, where you get so lost obsessing over a hypothetical possible outcome that you complete lose sight of all the things that have to happen for it to come to pass. Things that are often unlikely to begin with on their own, but combined even more so. And then this gets shared and fractally further catastrophized upon. All pulling grief from the future for things that may not even happen.

Seeing all that is so exhausting, as there's often little to no distinction between what's actually urgent in the here and now, and what's an emotional resonance cascade about what *might* happen (and any actual information to be able to judge it has been lost due to the game of Internet telephone, or was never there (ie. a twitter screengrab.) Sometimes disentangling that mess is possible, but it takes a lot of stress and energy, on top of the stress and energy seeing people upset about it in the first place.

My question is two-fold:

How do you (gently) tell people that what they're doing is counterproductive when just sharing anything without checking whether it's actually urgent, not misleading, not just spreading panic and needlessly borrowing grief from the future? Because with the exception of people you know *well* and even then, that feels like a fool's errand, even if you can avoid the toxic positivity vibes that people might get from you if you try.

Decide if social media is at all worth it. I personally don't follow "big" accounts, but even outside that it's all just so... the enjoyable and interesting parts where people talk about their stuff or share what they do or made feel like they're being snowed over by all the rest. I could quit it all, but that doesn't feel right. It's a tricky question because I feel the specter of the toxic positivity crowd sweeping anything difficult under the rug or disengaging to ~protect their mental~ looming over me. (Not to mention that all the IRL social events around me go through a dizzying array of social media sites, so complete disengagement isn't possible anyway.)

(Yes, I appreciate the irony of asking this on social media.) I'd appreciate any thoughts you might have on this.

Thanks for this all-too-relatable question, Anon! My thoughts:

How do you (gently) tell people that what they're doing is counterproductive when just sharing anything without checking whether it's actually urgent, not misleading, not just spreading panic and needlessly borrowing grief from the future? Because with the exception of people you know *well* and even then, that feels like a fool's errand, even if you can avoid the toxic positivity vibes that people might get from you if you try.

My answer is that you really don't. You can't convince someone to see the world your way or alter their behavior with your words. What you can do is take care of yourself and set an example with your behavior. By spending less time online digesting this bullshit, not involving yourself in petty,dissolve-on-your-tongue internet fights, not reacting when people send some dumb fuckshit to you, and surrounding yourself with more enriching sources of information and ways to connect, other people's online bullshit will bother you less, you'll see it less, and by virtue of contributing to it all less, you may slowly serve as a model for others who are looking to detach from it, too.

You can tell your close friends that you are spending less time online and trying to avoid alarmist bullshit, but not much good usually comes from engaging about it with anyone else. In fact, even posting a bad infographic in order to argue with it/disprove it only gives it more exposure, and some research on attitude change and persuasion finds that setting out to disprove a myth only leads to more people believing in it anyway. I did some laboratory studies on that back in the day. So I'd say it's usually better to just ignore/block/not read the BS.

2. (How do you) Decide if social media is at all worth it. I personally don't follow "big" accounts, but even outside that it's all just so… the enjoyable and interesting parts where people talk about their stuff or share what they do or made feel like they're being snowed over by all the rest. I could quit it all, but that doesn't feel right. It's a tricky question because I feel the specter of the toxic positivity crowd sweeping anything difficult under the rug or disengaging to ~protect their mental~ looming over me. (Not to mention that all the IRL social events around me go through a dizzying array of social media sites, so complete disengagement isn't possible anyway.)

I think my previous answer kind of alludes to the answer to this one. I find that I use social media less and less these days, because it does not help me professionally, socially, or emotionally very much at all. On the professional level, more social media usage does not translate to more readers or more interesting creative/collaborative opportunities. What does seem to pay off is speaking from true sincerity and passion, however often I am so moved, and then not engaging with bullshit in the aftermath of sharing it. So I post and ghost whenever I feel that I have something to say, never checking notifications/reactions/comments/etc for the most part.

Socially, social media use lately has been dismal for me. Seeing everyone's hot takes, bids for attention, trauma spirals, and petty fights makes me actively like humanity far less. And that's something I have already struggled with generally. I do not need to absorb every random person I've ever met's every random fleeting thought. It makes me socially anxious, far too worried about how people perceive me, and viciously judgement and hopeless myself. What social media IS useful for, socially, is finding events, as you've alluded to. So I do hop onto Instagram to check out my favorite party organizers, drag performers, mutual aid groups, trans beach day organizers, bars, etc to see what is going on. I don't do much beyond that these days.

Emotionally/psychologically, social media is stressful, alarmist, distracting, and occasionally informative and fun for me. Again your mileage may vary. My way of coping right now is to spend as little time on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook etc as possible, because very little of intellectual consequence happens there, and to selectively visit the specific tumblrs who put out posts that I like. I don't even scroll the feed. I have also replaced scrolling social media with reading Substacks and Medium articles and that has helped me a TON. I still get exposure to a wide array of humanity, including a lot of takes that I disagree with or find silly, but everything's a bit more measured and intentional and there's less fighting.

I do not know what will work for you, Anon, and I think for many of us this is an ongoing negotiation between competing needs. I consider saying fuck it and deleting everything pretty often. well, everything other than tumblr. I'm here to stay.

[honorarysimp]

7: The Entity

series masterlist

You’re starting to get worried.

And that’s saying a lot.

The nightmares aren’t anything unusual, especially considering the circumstances and how you’ve been living the last month.

It’s a lot, you admit to yourself, even for you.

You cup your hands under the cold running water and splash your face, bent over the sink as you rest your hands atop the counter. Deep breath in, exhale.

Shaking your head, you wipe your hand over your face and look up into the mirror. The bags under your eyes and your sunken in cheeks isn’t exactly the best you’ve looked. But insomnia is a bitch, and she fucks you every night.

You turn to head back to your hotel bed, with the intention of sleeping, when you notice the red staining your sheets.

Had you ripped your stitches again?

Looking back to the mirror you turn, wincing when you feel a slight sting, peering over your shoulder and feeling your stomach sink.

Gashes, like nails, down the length of your back.

Those are new.

You reach around to touch them, almost like you can’t believe they’re real, and wince as the smallest brush of your fingers lets you know they’re very real.

How? What? Where did they come from? They weren’t there yesterday. A rat? Fuck no, a rat wouldn’t do this.

Trying to rationalize, you realize there’s no point. Honestly, maybe you should’ve given up on logical thinking when you’d gotten attacked by a Ghost. Or Wes disappearing. Or being buried alive.

You rub your eyes, you’re not even sure the last time you got good sleep, which is why you don’t even think about it when you’re picking up your phone and dialing the number that had been given to you just a week ago.

It’s in this moment you realize she might be at work, saving people, doing her job. And you’re bothering her with your unexplainable bullshit-

It picks up on the third ring, “hello?”

Her voice is groggy, she’d definitely been sleeping, but her follow up is far more awake. As if she’s registered that you’re actually calling her, at 3AM.

“Detective? What’s wrong? Are you-“

“I’m okay. Something has happened, I don’t know how to explain it but…” you trail off, praying you don’t sound as delirious as you feel, “I could use some medical attention for something.”

You hear rustling in the other end, feeling guilty knowing she’s getting up out of bed for you. Someone she’s only known a month. Someone whose life she’s saved twice now. Three times if you count her stitching up your wound.

The first time.

“It’s not bad-“

“Must not be if you’re calling me instead of an ambulance, or 911” she says, but you hear her amused tone down the line, it eases your guilt only a little.

“Try not to hurry, I’ll pray I bleed out before you get here.”

Her tired laugh is the last thing you hear before the call ends.

When she arrives, she doesn’t question you. She simply sits you down after you show her the scratches, assessing them carefully. Once Tara determines you don’t need stitches, she cleans them. Bandages them.

She’s gentle, careful, like she had been after she and Sam dug you out of the ground. Almost like you’re real to her now, it’s still surreal to you. The dynamic shift after you almost died, for an idiotic reason yes.

But… you can’t really complain, selfishly grateful that Tara has grown fond enough of you to show up at 3AM to help you without much explanation.

She and Sam had both agreed not to say anything about what had happened, per your request, not without extreme protest of course. But considering how dangerous those men are, for now, you thought it best to be grateful for their mercy. For all of your safety, considering their warning.

They could’ve just left you there, after all.

You wonder if she’ll ask after she’s done, where the scratches came from, but unfortunately you aren’t sure what to tell her.

“I’ve seen these before” Tara murmurs without prompt, almost as if she’s reading your thoughts, “Sam had a friend when she was in high school-“

“Sam had friends?”

That earns you a smack on your good arm, you grin, knowing Tara is fighting off her own smile.

“She was getting scratches and nightmares, I overheard her tell Sam once that something was terrorizing her. That it was coming for her.”

Your stomach sinks, swallowing hard as you stay quiet, letting her continue.

However when she doesn’t, you turn and find her gaze far off, deep into thought.

“Where’d you go?” you ask softly, as if coaxing her back. Those pretty brown eyes find you again, catching the ambient lighting of the room and making something unnecessary tug at your chest.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go… ask, is all” Tara says with a shrug, “she moved out of town with her girlfriend- wife now actually, a few years back. But knowing you? I’m sure we could find her.”

That. That gets you. The “we”.

“Why are you helping me” you ask, voice raw and tone quiet, your eyes searching hers.

It’s a loaded question and you both know it, because technically you’re still strangers. But you aren’t. You’ve already been through a lot since the moment you arrived here, and Tara’s been nothing but a beacon to guide you to the only sliver of sanity you have left. Even when she calls you names and acts as if she cares less than she does.

Tara is quiet for a long moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before taking a deep breath.

“People give you more reasons not to trust them than they do reasons to trust them” she murmurs, which isn’t a good start, at least until she glances away and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“But that’s no reason to project those fears onto everyone you meet, that’s not what the human experience is about” Tara continues, you notice that vulnerability wavier as if she suddenly worries she’s been too honest, so she adds “besides, you’re clearly the thoughtless type who goes headfirst just to do the right thing, as a first responder it’s my job to keep idiots like you alive.”

You’re silent, simply just looking at her, and she’s looking right back at you.

The tension is suffocating, and you become suddenly aware that the room feels smaller than it should. And when Tara shifts her weight where she’s sat on the bed, you feel too close to her. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes you feel more terrified than being buried alive or stabbed.

“Well,” you hum, collecting yourself and squaring your shoulders, which the movement makes your back ache “how far of a drive is it?”

You’d told her you wouldn’t go anywhere without her, and you’d meant it, which is why she doesn’t ask and neither do you. Something’s are better left unsaid, at least for now.

“About three-ish hours, maybe more? Don’t take my word for it, but if you want a physical address you’ll need to work some magic” Tara says, a small smile teasing at her lips, you swallow the rising pulse in your throat as you stand and head for the small table to the left of the bed.

It’s nothing extravagant, your set up, considering you’re still in the same hotel room you’d been in since arriving here. But your own personal makeshift investigation board sits on the table leaned back against the wall, papers and photos scattered about. You nudge your tape recorder off your laptop and open it up, sitting as you tilt your head side to side, getting satisfying pops.

“It won’t take long once I get a name, when do you wanna go?” You ask Tara over your shoulder as you boot up your computer, “wait don’t you have work?”

“Work is the least of my concerns, what you should be asking is how fucked we’re gonna be when Sam finds out we’ve both skipped town” she pauses, for dramatic flair probably, “together.”

The muscle in your jaw twitches, hand pausing over the keys, because the idea of a furious Sam coming after you for disappearing off with her younger sister isn’t exactly appealing “…maybe we shouldn’t-“

“We’ll be fine, I’m a grown ass woman for fucks sake.”

You give her a look, slowly turning back towards your computer.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not even looking at you anymore.”

You don’t look, but you know she’s fighting off a smile.

____________________________________________

Your car rumbles down the empty countryside road, its headlights cutting through what remained of dawn as it neared its destination. The quiet was interrupted only by the low hum of the engine and the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires.

Finally, the headlights catch a turn off, a narrow dirt road leading to a small, simple house. It was secluded, surrounded by a dense thicket of trees and undergrowth.

“It’s really early, do you think we should come back?” You ask unsurely.

The engine idles softly as you park the car just down the drive, glancing to Tara, her features set and determined. The headlights illuminated the front of the house, casting eerie shadows over the worn shingles and wooded exterior.

“It’s 7AM on a Tuesday, you’re the Detective, context clues” Tara says as she raises an eyebrow at you.

You ponder, sighing, rationalizing it’s probably the better time to catch them. Before work, not after when it’s late at night.

In your defense, you’re exhausted and running on coffee and sheer spite.

You kill the engine and push open the door, the cool morning air rushing in as you climbed out. Tara follows suit, her eyes fixed on the house in front of you.

With a shared nod, you both approach the front porch of the silent house, the boards creaking beneath your feet.

It seems quiet from within, but a single light flickered through the curtains of a window to the right. You and Tara exchange a quick glance before you raise a fist and knock loudly on the door.

For a moment, you stand in silence, waiting for a response. There is no sound from inside the house, but the light remains on, casting a faint glow through the curtains.

You knock again, knuckles rapping against the worn wood of the door harshly. The sound echoed through the clearing just surrounding the house.

After a few more moments, there was movement from inside, the sound of footsteps approaching and a bolt being slid aside. The door creaks open slightly, revealing a blonde woman with wary eyes.

The blonde woman took in the sight of you and Tara, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Before she could threaten you or tell you to piss off, though, her gaze fell upon Tara. Immediately, recognition filled her features.

"You..." she whispered, her expression shifting from wary to surprise. The tension in the air seemed to thicken “you’re Sam’s little sister.”

“Hey Kirby, it’s been a while” Tara starts sweetly, flashing the woman a genuine smile. The woman, Kirby, flicks her gaze between you two, her hands flexing as she gripped the edge of the door.

"What... what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice shaky and uneasy.

Sensing her trepidation, you took a step closer. "We have some questions," you say calmly. "May we come inside?"

Kirby hesitates, her eyes flicking between you and Tara. Her expression remained wary, her grip on the door still firm and tight.

"You didn't answer my question," she said, her voice steady but laced with unease. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

“The same thing that happened to you is happening to my friend here” Tara says suddenly, making Kirby look to her with wide eyes.

From further inside the house, another female voice called out. "Everything okay?"

Kirby turns her head briefly, responding to the voice. "I'm fine," she called back, her tone taut and anxious.

There was a moment of silence before the other voice called out again. "Who's at the door?"

You watch Kirby tense, her expression growing even more unnerved. She glanced back at the two of you, then back into the house. She takes a deep breath, her features regaining some of their steel.

"Everything's fine, Jill" she called out, her voice steady and firm. "Go back to bed, I'll handle it."

She then turned her attention back to the two of you, her expression her gaze hard and resolute. "You need to leave," she said, her voice regaining its firmness. "There's nothing here for you."

The voice from inside called out again, this time sounding agitated. "What's going on? Who's there?"

Kirby sighs and calls back over her shoulder. "Everything's fine, babe please!"

There was a moment of silence, and then a second woman appeared in the doorway. This must be Jill.

She looks the same age as Kirby, her brown hair tied back in a loose bun. She has her arms crossed, her expression curious but not hostile.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, peering out through the crack in the door at you and Tara.

The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly as the second woman emerged. Her presence was calming, her voice soft and less defensive than Kirby.

"They’re from… Woodsboro" Kirby mutters, her eyes moving between you and Tara.

Jill’s eyes widened a fraction, her expression growing wary. "From Woodsboro?” she repeated, her gaze flicking between each of them. “Should I even ask what brought you two all the way out here to our doorstep?”

You take a small tentative step forward, gaze locked intently on Jill, praying she at least be the one to hear you out. "Ma'am," you began, voice firm but pleading. "We need your help. Something is happening in Woodsboro, something that’s connected to what happened a few years ago, and then a few years before that.”

Kirby’s eyes widened, her hands trembling. Jill, however, stays composed, her gaze steady as she listened.

"The events from that night have started repeating," you continue, voice low and insistent. "We need to understand what's going on, if you were able to survive being tormented by this thing it may help us-“

Kirby’s expression contorted, her eyes going wide with anger. "No!" she snapped, her voice trembling. "I'm not going through that again. You both need to leave, get the fuck off my porch, NOW!"

With a loud thud, she slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the night.

You and Tara exchange a quick glance, stunned by the sudden outburst. The porch suddenly seemed eerily quiet, the night air heavy with tension.

“Do we…?” you start, looking to Tara, who looks a mixture between frustrated and unsure.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea” she mutters, looking a bit guilty, “at least we tried-“

But then the door cracks open again, this time it’s Jill. She looks between the two of you, thoughtful, eyebrows pinched together almost as if she’s worried.

“Listen, I can’t tell you much because I don’t know much, neither of us do. All I know is that the same thing happened to my Aunt back when that thing-“ she stops, shaking her head and glancing over her shoulder inside.

“There’s a ritual, and it’s not simple. Bare bones? Your heart has to temporarily stop, so whatever the thing has latched on to you moves on or something. We never questioned it, only did what we were told and it worked.”

That was not what you were expecting, and as you share a look with Tara it’s clear neither was she.

“Are you saying-“

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. We stopped her heart and restarted it using a defibrillator, I’m sorry I’ve got nothing more to offer you” Jill says with an apologetic smile, “and don’t be set off by her reaction, she never really… recovered fully from what she saw. That’s saying a lot, if you’d known her… before.”

As if you weren’t anxious enough already, you’re still wanting to be in denial about this.

Think about it, an entity that’s been terrorizing Woodsboro for decades decides it wants to start fucking with you specifically? And to get rid of it you have to die and be resuscitated?

The cherry on top of everything that makes no sense.

“This is fucking insane-“

“Thank you for your time, and advice, we appreciate it” Tara smoothly cuts you off, resting her hand on your shoulder as she gives Jill a smile.

Jill glances between you two, offering a nod “back then I’d have done anything to save her, she’s everything to me, it would be cruel of me not to offer the two of you that chance.”

It’s not exactly an implication, or a forward assumption, but you can’t help how your mind goes right to it. And judging by the slight pink tint in Tara’s cheeks, she may not be far off your train of thought as she quickly takes her hand off your shoulder.

With that, Jill disappears back inside, and you two both make your way back to the car quickly. It’s quiet as you start the engine, punch in the address to get you both back to Woodsboro.

“I don’t think I’m up for this” Tara says suddenly, you turn your head to look at her in confusion. She’s staring out the windshield, discomfort in her expression “I’m not entirely excited at the idea of stopping your heart when I know it doesn’t always work bringing someone back.”

You take a deep breath, gripping at the steering wheel like it’s a stress ball, “look it’s just bad dreams, some scratches on my back it’s not like it could mean-“

“Stop. Just… stop” Tara cuts you off, raising a hand in the air between the two of you as she refuses to look your way. Silence envelops the vehicle again.

“This has to stop. I’m tired of losing people I care about, and you-“ she whips around, face twisted with anger as she glares accusingly “-you can’t just show up and wedge yourself into my life like it’s nothing, and then disappear like everyone else. No. Fuck no I refuse-“

“Tara” you say her name softly, gently, which instantly pauses her angry rant. She takes a slow breath, running her hands down her face as she collects herself.

“Can we say this for what it really is? Because I’m not a skeptic and I’m not rabid with superstition, but can we agree that this is something?” Tara says, opening her eyes and looking at you.

It’s hard. Hard for you to admit that yes, it’s the only explanation. That yes, there’s something far bigger than either of you are probably even anywhere close to being able to comprehend nor understand. And how you’ve somehow become this entity’s new target, for a reason still unknown.

Because you failed at your job to uncover this, which is probably why this has gone on for as long as it has. There’s nothing to work with.

“If I’m gonna live…” you start carefully, holding her gaze as you try to keep yourself steady, “then I’m going to have to die, and unfortunately… I’ll need your help for that”

Tara is clearly against the idea of being the one to do it, but she puts on a brave face and nods, the look you share says it all.

“This is fucking insane, right?”

“Really fucking insane.”

“And it makes no sense, it might not even work, but we’re going to try it anyways?”

You turn back to face the steering wheel, shifting the car into drive as you mumble “I guess so.”

____________________________________________

You never thought you’d find yourself in Tara’s living space, yet alone laid on her floor knowing she’s about to stop your heart.

Literally.

She’s in work mode and you can tell, she’s trying to keep herself as detached from this as possible so she’ll follow through. Tara is a professional, this is a part of her job after all.

Her place is nice, really nice, you wonder if things were different, if you’d be here under different circumstances. But then again, you’d have never come to Woodsboro at all without them.

You lay motionless on the floor, eyes closed as you steel yourself for what was about to come. Your breaths are slow and deep, each inhale and exhale a measured effort of control.

Tara kneels beside you, her hands gripping the handles of the defibrillator pads. Her expression was a mix of determination and worry, her eyes trained on the machine's digital readout, pre-set to the appropriate voltage.

"Ready hot shot?" she asked, her voice steady but taut with uncertainty. Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto hers. You give a subtle nod, bracing for the shock. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, each second hanging in the air like a lead weight.

“See you in two minutes?” you ask, just because you feel like you have to say something, even if it’s repeating the agreed time you’d go under.

She nods, “two minutes.”

With a deep breath, Tara presses the two small pads against your chest, the rubber grips sticking to your shirt. Her fingers hovered over the 'shock' button, knuckles white with tension.

The air was thick with an eerie stillness as she prepared to deliver the electric jolt. The your heart pounds in your ears, body tensed in anticipation.

"Clear!" Tara exclaims, her voice ringing out sharply in the empty room. With a brief flash, she pressed the button.

A bolt of electricity surges through you, your body convulsing involuntarily as the jolting current struck you. You grit your teeth, muscles seizing and twitching with the force of the shock.

And then your eyes open, and you find yourself standing in the middle of a vast, empty void. The air was still and silent, a stark shift from the moment before. Your body felt strange, almost weightless, and a sense of confusion washes over you.

You look around, your gaze scanning the endless space. Were you dead? Had the defibrillation worked?

As you turn in a small circle, a sudden chill ran down your spine. Something was there. In the shadows around the edge of the void, a faint outline shifted and moved.

As your eyes adjusted, the form solidified, and what appeared out of the darkness was a horrific sight. Dark, twisted limbs, a face that was once human now distorted and nightmarish. Its voice was a low, gravelly whisper that echoed through the emptiness.

"You’ve done well, better than most" the entity said, its voice rasping and harsh. "Your persistence amuses me. But I assure you, your efforts are futile."

It began to move, its twisted form slithering across the floorless void, seemingly moving across the empty space like water. Its dark, misshapen body approaches you, its eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure.

"Everything you've worked for, all the pain you’ve endured," it continued, drawing closer and closer. "It will all be for nothing. You can’t beat me, Detective. I am a part of you now.”

Your terror is replaced by a sudden surge of defiance. You stood tall, hands balling into fists, and demand answers. "Why are you doing this? What do you gain from abducting people from Woodsboro?" you exclaimed, voice firm as your empowered by all the pint up frustration over the last month.

The entity halted, its form pulsating and shifting. A low chuckle echoed from its deformed mouth.

"Abducting people?" it repeated, the words distorted and mocking. "Such a simplistic way to frame it. I'm not abducting them. I'm freeing them."

The entity begins circling you slowly, its limbs moving like sinewy tentacles across the void. Its eyes remain fixed on you, dark and unsettling.

"Freedom from the mundane, slavery to mortality, the expected," it continued, its voice dripping with a twisted sense of righteousness. "I offer them something greater than what your pathetic world could provide."

"Greater?" you exclaim, your voice tinged with anger. "By stealing their lives, taking them from their homes, their families, you're offering them something greater?"

"Oh, but I am," the entity retorted, its deformed face contorting into a mockery of a smile. "Everything they leave behind is meaningless. My world is one of power, of transformation. Those who are taken become something more than they ever were in your world."

That catches your attention, “is that where they are? The missing people? Is that why there are no bodies?”

The entity chuckled again, its dark, twisted form shifting and writhing before you. "Precisely," it said, its voice dripping with satisfaction. "They've become a part of me, a part of something greater, something beyond your comprehension."

Your mind races, trying to piece together the entity’s machinations. You clench your fists tighter as you demand to know more.

"How do you do it?" You ask, voice sharp. "How do you move around town without leaving a trace all this time?"

The entity let out a guttural, mocking laugh. "You are so limited in your thinking, Detective. You think in terms of flesh and blood, of physical presence. But I am far more...fluid."

Your eyes widened as the entity's words sank in. "Water” you murmur, realization dawning.

The entity chuckled darkly, its twisted form undulating in the empty void. "Very good, Detective," it taunted. "You've finally arrived at the crux of the matter. I am not bound by the constraints of your physical world. I am fluid, elusive, and I am everywhere."

You press on, desperate for more information. "Is that how you’re able to change shape and form?" You ask.

The entity chuckled, its form shifting and reshaping in the void as it suddenly takes on the appearance of the Ghostface. "Correct again, Detective," it responded, its voice taking on a mocking tone. "Water is my medium, my canvas. I can shape and reform myself in any way I desire, thanks to my connection to its endless supply."

You listen intently as the entity spoke, its deformed grin spreading wider. "I have no pattern, no cycles," it said, its voice taking on a tone of satisfaction. "I come when I want, I rest when I want, and I leave when I have had my fill. Everyone is fair game. I am a force of nature, unpredictable, unstoppable."

It paused, its form shifting and coiling in the void. "But for now, it is your time," it continued, its voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Your time to join my ranks, Detective."

The entity’s deformed face twists into a grotesque sneer as it began to reshape yet again. "Oh, I am coming for you, all of you, one by one" it hissed, its voice dripping with menace. "It is inevitable my will to consume this town, suck it dry like a parasite. Until there is nothing left. Nothing left but me, and my twisted playground-“

Your eyes snapped open, breath coming in ragged gasps. You felt a sharp jolt through your chest, a jolt so strong it seemed to rattle your bones.

Your vision swims, and the world comes back into focus. You realize you’re back in the real world, Tara standing over you, the defibrillator still in her shaking hands.

“You’re going to feel nauseous for a minute, try and take it easy” Tara says smoothly, setting the pads down and grabbing your face gently, checking your pupil response with a small light that makes you wince.

The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, your heart pounding in your ears. The memory of the entity's words echoed in your mind, its dark laughter still fresh in your memory.

You push yourself up slowly, body feeling heavy. Tara rests a hand on your shoulder, acting as an anchor as she looks at you, relief and concern etched across her features. "You alright?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

It took a moment to gather yourself, your mind still spinning. "I saw it," you croak out, voice hoarse. "I spoke to it. It’s real, it warned me... that it- its-“ you blink a few times, shaking your head to try and rid the hazy sensation.

Tara’s eyes widen, her expression turning to one of confusion. "You… saw it?" she asked, her voice shaky. "What did it say?"

You look to her, dread clear in your eyes “it’s coming for us, all of us.”

Tara holds a brave face, but you can tell she’s beginning to panic as the reality of all this really sets in. This is real.

“What do we do? Do we even do anything?”

You swallow hard, trying to push yourself up to your feet, but your knees instantly give way.

“Woah, woah you can’t be standing up yet-“ Tara is quick to steady you, her firm tone practiced from her field of work.

“We have to go to the Mayor, I have to talk to her about the immediately” you tell her, no longer caring to filter anything that comes out of your mouth after what you’d seen.

You now understand Kirby’s panic, her horror, her fear.

“The Mayor? Why? She won’t believe us” Tara says, but as she takes in your next words, her expression shifts from worry to disbelief.

“She will, because she’s the one who hired me and brought me here.”

previous, next

[askcorpsey]

SNOWDIN

Things are tense between Frisk and Chara after Frisk died at Toriel’s hands. Chara’s instinct is to defend their mother, but Frisk, traumatized, isn’t having it.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Chara’s ghostly face. “She did not mean to. She’s not like that,” They say, not meeting Frisk’s tearful eyes. “She was trying to protect you.”

“Oh wow, and she did such a great job of that!” Frisk seethed through watery eyes. “That’s what all great moms do, murder their own children.”

“She wasn’t--”

“But you don’t care, you hate me!” Frisk whirls on Chara, nose to nose with the startled apparition. “Bet it was real fun to watch me get burnt to a crisp, huh? Bet it was just hilarious thinking about how I might’ve never-- I… I might’ve never seen my family again…” The hot, furious energy deflates out of them, replaced with an embarrassed hand wiping away their tears.

Chara reaches out a hand, unsure and caught off-guard. The hand hovers there for a moment, then retracts. Frisk takes a shaky breath and continues down the corridor.

They don’t see Corpsey again in the ruins, but his ominous, raspy laughter follows them wherever they go. 

That night, as Toriel tosses and turns in her bed, unable to shake a profound guilt that she cannot place, she is visited by the rotting corpse of her long dead child, who taunts and mocks her inability to fix anything, to keep anyone safe. She wakes up the next morning shaking, convinced that it was just a nightmare. But there are muddy shoeprints on the floor next to her bed that she doesn’t remember seeing before.

In Snowdin, Frisk meets Sans and Papyrus. Sans warns them that the residents of the town are jumpy these days, with a few murders that took place recently and rumors of a demonic ghost haunting the town. The brothers help with diverting Royal Guard patrols from their path (Papyrus’s lieutenant status helps with this). 

Frisk tries to keep a low profile, but after getting into an argument with Chara, gets jumped by Doggo who assumes them to be the evil human ghost that’s been haunting the town. Frisk, their death at Toriel’s hands still fresh on their mind, kills him in self defense. This drives a further wedge in between Frisk and Chara.

“Load back,” Chara says icily.

“What? No, he tried to kill me!” Frisk’s knuckles go white as the snow at their feet as they grip the dusty plastic knife for all its worth. 

“Because he thought you were a threat,” Chara bites back. “Which clearly, you are. If you could just explain--”

“Explain what, exactly?” Frisk snaps. “That I’m not an evil haunted zombie? That I’m a regular human? Haven’t we already established that the entire Underground wants me dead?”

“You have power. You are functionally immortal. You have a responsibility to use that power to minimize harm.”

“So I’m not allowed to defend myself now? I’m just supposed to let these people kill me?”

“Yes,” Chara hisses out. “It is the least you could do for them after everything your people have done to them.”

“My people?” Frisk asks, bewildered. “What did my people do?”

“Your people. Humanity. You killed millions and then trapped the survivors down here to rot.” Overwhelming hatred distorted their expression.

“First of all, my parents were Columbian immigrants, I’m not sure what a bunch of white people did a thousand years ago, but my family had nothing to do with it, and it’s bullshit to say that I’m responsible for it,” Frisk says, taking a step forward. “Second of all, newsflash, Einstein, you’re human too. So if I’m responsible, then so are you. Why don’t you die for them?”

“I DID DIE FOR THEM!” Chara’s form distorted beyond recognition, for a split second they looked almost demonic as they loomed over Frisk, who stumbled backward in fear.

It was only for a moment, though, and they flickered back to looking like an angry, grief-stricken child. “I did die for them,” Chara repeated. “And it was not enough.”

Frisk looked down at the dust mingling with the snow, guilt bleeding in now that the initial fear had worn off.

“Please,” Chara pleaded, sounding exhausted. “Please load back. Try to end the fight without either one of you dying. Just try.

Frisk thought about whether they could go home and look in their mama’s eyes and tell her they had killed someone. Could they live with themself if they didn’t try? “Okay. Fine. I’ll try.”

Frisk loads back and is able to pacify Doggo. Unbeknownst to them, after they move on from the area, Corpsey kills Doggo.

Sans’s warnings turn out to be true, with Snowdin’s residents being very jumpy. Simultaneously though, Corpsey has gathered a mini cult following of cryptid enthusiasts, with Papyrus being the leader. He dresses Frisk in a Corpsey mask and a Corpsey fanclub shirt as a disguise. Frisk explores the village and gets a gauge on the monster population. Most people are scared of the evil ghost demon child that is rumored to be behind the disappearances, other people are skeptical and assume there’s some serial killer and have distaste for the royal guard for not solving the murders. 

In the Papyrus hangout he reveals that he’s actually friends with Corpsey and insists Corpsey is actually a really good guy! People are just scared of him because he’s stinky and spooky. He’s not a murderer! He’s just quirky. Papyrus started the Corpsey fanclub in order to improve Corpsey’s public perception. It didn’t help, it just attracted the cryptic/true crime/conspiracy theory lovers. Oh well.

Undyne shows up to investigate the report of Doggo’s disappearance. She gets on Papyrus’s case about the whole Corpsey fanclub thing and sees straight through Frisk’s disguise and attacks! She insists that Frisk murdered Doggo, and when Frisk can’t fully deny it, Papyrus reluctantly sides with Undyne.

During the fight, Frisk appeals to Papyrus’s conscience and insists they didn’t kill Doggo, getting his guard down enough to flee from both of them

[bonefall]

Feel free to ignore you've probably got a lot going on right now, but considering you know a lot about DOTC and Clear sky, I had a question...

We know that he's a terrible, misogynistic, woman beating and war mongering lunatic who was excused of all his actions because his equally misogynistic brother said " But-But he's nice! Deep down! This isn't the real him! "

But! In a world where the Hunters could write such a character, what do you think Clear Sky would look like as an actual sympathetic villain?

Idk if that makes sense, but what I've thought of doing is taking purely cannon Clear Sky and attempting to change him enough that he's still an antagonist, but not too far where only Reddit defends him.

I don't think he works as a sympathetic villain, on any level, ever. I think you're making a huge mistake to even try, and I have never seen an AU where it was done well nor am I interested in entertaining the thought.

Characters. Are. Tools. They exist to tell a story. The story that people tell me, by obsessing over some alternate universe where he was "ACTUALLY sympathetic and had a REAL redemption arc," is that they're not fucking interested in his dozens of victims. Nor do they actually care about the abusive impact he had on the minds and feelings of his family. They're JUST interested in Clear Sky himself.

Just like the Erins. Everything that happens in DOTC revolves around him. Everything. All his wives die so he can be sad about it. His brother defends all of his actions and BEGS you to sympathize with his pain so he can be 'redeemable.' One Eye comes out of nowhere so that there can be an example of "real" evil to contrast Clear Sky so he's less bad in hindsight.

The first three books of DOTC are bad, but the last three are fucking insufferable because SUDDENLY all that Gray Wing apologia pays off, and they take their main villain and throw him out a window. You CAN'T have "redeemable" Clear Sky and the plot of DOTC without dragging in someone else to drive the conflict, to BE the bigger threat to "unite" against. Slash and One Eye have to be conjured up out of thin air so Clear Sky can WHINE about how people only suck his toes instead of deepthroat them after he killed all their friends.

And yet, in spite of this absolute failure of an attempt, we continue to see this bullshit "redemption" be a mistake because Clear Sky is a fantastic villain, with major antagonist roles in nearly EVERY bit of follow-up material for DOTC that came after.

He's the most consistent monster in all of Warriors.

He's a fragile, egotistical, self-absorbed megalomaniac who ALWAYS sees himself as the victim, REFUSING to self-reflect and blaming everything else for all of his terrible choices. He will USE your love of him against you like it's a chain through your nose, step out of line and he will yank you into place with guilt trips, manipulation, public shaming, and violence.

He's a child abuser. He's a tyrant. He abandons the sick and disabled as soon as they're of no use to him, with grand speeches about "illness" and "weakness." He's a murderer who stands above the shredded corpse of his victim and bellows, "I'M NOT GREEDY! I'M JUST STRONG!"

And you'd write a "good" redemption arc for this, why?

Why are people so chronically unable to accept that there are LOTS of people like him, and you can't save your abuser? Why don't you ask yourselves why you're not interested in exploring Thunder, or Petal, or Gray Wing, and how his toxic influence impacts them? Why does the sympathy fall on Clear Sky? What about the DOZENS of victims who are dead by Book 3, and how THEY could have been saved?

Why ruin a perfectly good villain?

What's behind this trend where a billion people say to me, "Yes Clear Sky is a walking cavalcade of fucked up abuse apologia, and an incredibly realistic depiction of an abuser, but how would you change this while keeping it all the same?"

I wouldn't. You can't. It wouldn't be the same story, or it wouldn't be the same character. Never seen it done well, and I have seen it a lot. So I don't entertain this deeply frustrating "Well What If Clear Sky But Nice" impulse.

[op-sys-chaos]

Inspired by a post by @snakeredbirdbatkatana

Tim couldn’t believe it. He’d been left behind. AGAIN.

His siblings really should’ve learned their lesson at this point. But no, they were too busy paying attention to themselves to think about Tim.

Dick had been exposed to the Morality Virus first. It removed your morality, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. He wouldn’t be held back anymore - now, he could do things like kill the Joker and avenge his brother without guilt. (It also gave you a general disdain for human life, which was a problem, but Dick could manage it. It would be fine. Right?) He was quick to infect Jason, thinking he’d enjoy the freedom. He infected Damian after, knowing Damian would enjoy being able to give into his more feral instincts.

Dick didn’t go after Cass, Duke, or Steph. Cass chose not to kill because she couldn’t stand watching people die, not with her ability. It had nothing to do with morals for her, so there was no point. Duke was too new for the family to know how he’d react to something like this. And Steph had actively chosen to reject her villain father and become a vigilante, partially because of a grudge and partially because of the adrenaline rush of vigilantism. She’s probably just pick being a hero anyway.

So obviously, Dick would go for Tim next, right?

No!

No, he started branching out to heroes outside of Gotham!

Unbelievable.

Tim hacked Dick’s computer, only to see his analysis:

Tim looks up to Bruce too much and would keep following him. Besides, he has a strong sense of morality, and would likely keep operating under it out of habit.

Did Dick really not know Tim that well? How little did his brother care about him to not notice?

Tim followed Bruce’s moral code because he didn’t have one of his own originally. He was very detached from normalcy and therefore morality as a kid. He took up Bruce’s code, following his example (not his words, mind you) down to the last detail, including being willing to leave bad people for dead if needed. But it wasn’t because he looked up to Bruce. It was because Bruce had a strong moral code and therefore was a good person to model his own after. It was convenient and reliable. Not some stupid hero worship bullshit.

Tim was so incredibly offended that his brothers cared so little that they couldn’t even tell this basic thing.

Cass noticed, of course. She read Dick’s note over Tim’s shoulder and gave him a hug.

“He doesn’t get it,” she said. “He can’t imagine why you would do be like this otherwise. He won’t consider other options.”

“He’s just… excluding me. Because he doesn’t understand me. How stupid. Everyone else had thought out reasons for exclusion, and he only wants to turn people who will kill because the virus is driving him to turn as many people as possible to create lots of killers, so those exclusions had valid reasonings. But me? Hero worship?”

“Honestly, I feel like this is a good thing to be excluded from,” Steph commented as she walked in.

“You don’t get it, Steph. It’s not that I want to be dosed-“

“You want to be seen. I get it, Tim. And I see you, but I know you want your whole family to be able to see you.”

Tim nodded.

“So how do you get them to see you, and how do you save them?” she prompted.

“…I get myself infected,” he whispered. “Act like I’m on his side. And deliver the antidote when I’m close.”

“Exactly. Can you do it?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“He will,” Cass chimed in confidently.

And that’s how, a week later, Tim ended up breaking into Dick’s apartment, alone and unarmed.

“Dick.”

“Tim? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to prove a fucking point.”

“And that is?” Dick asked with a frown.

“That you don’t know me half as well as you think,” Tim replied, grabbing a syringe of the virus and jabbing himself with it before Dick could stop him.

“What?” Dick asked in a whisper.

It felt strange, being hit with the virus. All it really did was make him feel cold for a moment, and give him the slight nagging sense that he should start killing people. But he easily shook the feeling off by reminding himself of the code.

“Pay better attention to your siblings, asshole.”

“I… Tim, I don’t understand.”

“I don’t have hero worship for Bruce. And I certainly don’t have a strong sense of morality. I never had morals, Dick. You think I would’ve stalked Batman if I did?”

“Well well well,” Jason said, walking into the room. “Pay up, Dick. Told you you were wrong about him.”

Tim almost jumped in surprise. Of his brothers he was definitely closest with Jason, but he hadn’t realized Jason would know him well enough to bet on this.

“But he…”

“Was raised without morals. It’s obvious. He doesn’t think about moral implications until he’s already 50 clones into trying to bring his clone bestie back.”

Dick choked out a cough. “What?”

“Yeah, not my finest moment,” Tim admitted. “I was not thinking about the ethical implications of cloning, I just missed my friend. Bruce’s code is a strong and simple road map. That’s all.”

“Amazingly, I actually respect you more for that,” Damian told Tim as he entered the room. “It takes a lot of willpower to follow a code that’s not your own.”

Perfect. All of them were here.

“Thanks, Damian.”

“You are welcome. I assume your presence here means you are on our side? We have planned our first escapade.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Lure all of the currently free rogues into one spot, then blow up the building. Immediately after, blow up Arkham. Civilian casualties will be a factor, of course, but a necessary one to rid the city of evil.”

Huh. Even with no morals, they were still heroic. Interesting.

“I can help with that,” Tim said, pulling a device out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” Jason asked.

All three came closer, and Tim pushed the small red button on top. Gas instantly exploded outwards, enveloping the room.

The sounds of coughing surrounded him, and he felt the curse of the virus wash off. He didn’t suddenly gain morals, of course, but his drive to kill was gone, which was a relief.

As the smoke cleared, Tim saw his brothers sitting on the floor.

“What the…” Dick started, before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. “Oh god, was I really planning to…”

“Yeah,” Tim replied, standing up and leaving the apartment. “Next time, pay better attention to your siblings, asshat. You would’ve known that because I don’t have morality to follow, I would stick to saving you all and saving the city. I thought we were brothers, Dick. But you proved today that I’m just another face in the crowd to you.”

With those words, Tim left. Cass, who had been waiting outside in case it went wrong, gave him a quick hug, and the pair grappled off together.

“That was AWESOME,” Steph said over comms. “You kicked so much ass, Tim. They’ll think twice before dismissing you again.”

“I hope so,” Tim whispered. “I was honestly surprised that Jason at least partially knew that I would act that way.”

“Yeah, well, Dick will think twice about underestimating you again.”

And he did. When Dick came back to the cave that night, he sat down and had a conversation with Tim, telling him about his impressions of Tim and asking him to correct anything he got wrong. To Tim’s surprise, Dick actually saw a lot more than he expected. He even picked up on the fact that Tim’s first male crush had been Kon, even if Tim hadn’t admitted it even to himself. And Dick was the only person who’d ever told Tim that they had figured out that Tim had originally modeled his personality after a book character. Dick wasn’t wrong; Tim had no idea how to act normal as a kid, and modeled himself after his favorite character. His actions changed over time, becoming more natural and more his own, but they’d still originally been based on someone else. Dick had picked up on that, to Tim’s amazement.

It turned out, Dick actually knew Tim better than he ever realized his brother did. Dick just missed the morality piece because Tim had never wavered from the code and had always been so devoted to following Bruce’s code that Dick assumed it was hero worship of the first hero Tim knew.

They vowed to be more open about things in the future and to work on knowing each other better. And Dick vowed never to exclude Tim again unless someone else gave him a very, very good reason to do so (such as the “it’ll make him want to get involved if he knows and his involvement will make this worse” type of stuff typical in their line of duty).

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 6

you saw me as someone worth saving.

i didn’t want what happened to change the way you saw me.

we’re gonna get through this. we kind of have to.

sometimes our mistakes follow us.

in fact, i did not start out a bad person.

glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.

as usual, i make the wrong decision.

i was scared. i’m just tired of being scared. 

all that rage is bad for your complexion. 

you are so sweet and naive and dumb.

curious. how many more rock bottoms are you going to have to hit before you start taking care of yourself?

i used to think a lot of shit matters.

talking makes things real. and real things end.

i wanted to be a part of your world. but i didn’t know your world was like this. 

i’m so sick of people telling me who i am.

the guilt of it all. what are we supposed to do with that? 

i don’t want to be afraid anymore.

it’s like i always used to need someone else to make me feel whole. 

you didn’t let me down.

you’re this fiery, passionate person.

we’re working to stop the monsters and to stop people from turning into monsters.

it’s important to have an exit plan that’s more than just an exit.

maybe it’s not so bad when you’re the one holding the knife.

at least i know who i am.

i’m nobody’s guiding light.

i don't belong to anybody.

i was alone. surrounded by people, but still alone.

rise and shine, we’re in hell. 

this is the worst it’s been. that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

you’re going dark on me again.

if you’re bullshitting me, i don’t care.

i never wanted to be the bad guy.

why did anyone ever do shit for me when all i ever did was let them down?

look at you, always standing in my fucking way.

your memory is like… lethally selective.

what if we end up making each other freaking miserable?

what if i hurt you? i’ve hurt people before. very badly.

for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.

you’re the future, kid. never forget that. 

i guess i just want it to make some kind of sense.

however this plays out, i’m seeing it through with you.

you’ve done a lot, no question. but there is always more.

you believed in me when i didn’t.

this may shock you, but not everyone here likes you.

this place makes you face your demons or something, and turns out, your demons are really fucking ugly.

maybe in the end it’ll be me and you trying together. 

maybe it makes me selfish. i don’t think it makes me wrong.

there’s a whole world out there for you. go. fight for it. be brave.

i'm talking the greater good. doesn't always have to be what's best for everybody.

it doesn’t matter how shitty they are. it still fucks you up when they’re gone.

sometimes, someone comes into your life at just the right moment, you know?

stop being mad at me for wanting a different future.

you’re not like the others. but you know that, don’t you?

this isn’t pressure. it’s winning. 

i want a life where we can just… be. 

the worst has already fucking happened. i don’t think i’ve got it in me to be that scared about something that could be good.

we can’t save anyone until we save ourselves.

if you’re with me, i need you to say it.

what gives you the right to choose who lives and who dies?

i don’t know how this is going to end or what happens to me, but for whatever it’s worth, i am with you. 

why am i always doing bad things in your dreams?

you don’t trust anybody else to take care of things.

enough people have died. 

tell me you didn’t kill anyone. if you say it, i’ll believe you.

thank you for believing in me. 

i don’t wanna die.

i was just following your lead the whole time. we all were.

i’m not a hero. i’m just helping a friend.

i don’t think this is goodbye. 

you need someone to help get you there, and you have to get there.

i’m sorry you met me, but i’m glad i got to know you. i’ll never forget you.

can’t i just blame everything on my mother and be done with it?

the whole world’s haunted.

i did monstrous things. 

you’re happy. which you’re allowed to be, in case you didn’t know.

just because someone saved your life doesn’t mean you have to live the rest of it for them.

it is not up to you to carry everyone else.

put your trust in other people. in me.

sometimes, helping hurts like hell.

i just wish sometimes i had a map to figure you out.

it’s a crazy world out here, full of people who sometimes disappoint us, but it’s damn beautiful.

i’m sorry. small words for something so big.

what do you live for? living takes effort now, it takes everything. those still alive have their reasons.

the world is nothing without hope.

think about what you want. what you truly want.

the bad things we do must be done. we carry that burden so the others don’t have to.

i’m gonna screw with your life just like the way you did with mine.

this place, it’s safe. it’s good for everybody.

we take what we got, and we make it work.

they changed the game, so we change how we play.

oh my god, you killed him.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Delta anon here again, about the last ask I sent in! (Sorry it took me this long to respond lmao)

I think Delta would absolutely follow the ideas of utilitarian realism with his own twist and hints of moral pragmatism, like you said. Personally I don't know a lot about these types of things, but I did surface-level searches and it sounds like you're right lmao.

And while I do agree that they'd probably kill someone on accident, never meaning it genuinely no matter what they say, I also think that they might kill purposefully if their sense of justice aligns with the best outcome. They wouldn't like it, but they'd get the job done, however they may see fit. And if their personal sense of justice reigned true, then they wouldn't confess or feel guilty. But if it didn't, then they might feel guilty, yet still hide it.

They would absolutely kill for their friends, but whether it be purposeful or accidental can vary depending on the reasons. If someone was starting issues and Delta fought them, and he accidentally killed them? He'd feel terrible. He'd probably break down. But if someone was actively threatening him and his friends harm? Instant death. No guilt. He did what needed to be done, and now his loved ones are safe again. And he'll do it again if he has to. (The 'Trolly Problem' would probably drive him insane tbh lmao.)

I also agree that he would at the very least offer to "take care of" Killer if Color gets sick of him. He will not say directly what he means by this, but it is heavily implied as to what he will do to Killer if left alone with him. Color and Epic make sure to not leave those two along for any longer than 2 minutes during Killer's recovery phase, especially if Delta was already pissed about something beforehand.

And I agree as well, he'd definetly be willing to try to kill Cross again if it came down to it. But he and Cross are on better terms now, so it'd take Cross doing something horrible (like hurting Epic intentionally) for Delta to try killing him again.

(On the topic of him and Cross though, I like to imagine that whenever Delta is over Killer's bullshit, he finds Cross wherever he is, goes over, pats him on the shoulder or back, and says something to the effect of "Thank you for not being a massive bitch/asshole" lmao. Cross takes it as a compliment. This is a regular conversation starter for them.)

Nah, don’t worry, Del. Take as long as you need to respond.

And I love hearing people’s thoughts on delta’s worldview and sense of morals. And the idea of delta keeping both cross and killer in line is always just 👌, especially if killer and delta ever get to throw down and beat eachother’s ass.

The thought of delta doing that with cross is hilarious. I wonder how cross would react to that, to know he’s basically got his best friend’s other friend’s approval and that friend also thinks killer is bitch. killer, meanwhile, would probably take it as a compliment, and encouragement to become an even bigger bitch.

This is basically just Killer:

[aleksanderscult]

Why do you hate Mal?

(TW!: verbal abuse! slut shaming! alcoholism!)

Well, long story short, he's a huge dick.

I could write three long metas about his toxicity and why I dislike him but I don't want to tire my fingers for him. 😑

Maybe because of his slut-shaming behaviour?

Oh and what is this? Ah yes, Mal being angry that Alina found happiness away from him:

I'm so sorry Mal that Alina wasn't tortured so you could feel okay. I'm so sorry that she didn't feel insecure enough to run back in your arms, needing you and depending on you like you always wanted for her.

You know, that's the thing with Mal. He did nothing to Alina.

Not when his "friend" was mocking her appearance (and yes this is serious for me because I too have a very thin body and people from my own family have mocked me for it. So it's no joke).

Not when she was apparently sad that he fucked around girls knowing that she knew.

He did literally nothing until Alina wanted to fuck the Darkling and showed interest for him.

(slut shaming her even here)

From then on he ✨magically✨ noticed her out of nowhere and he said that "now I see you".

BULLSHIT!!

According to Mal, it's okay if he fucks girls every other night but it's not okay when Alina wants to do it with a man that....I don't know. Supported her power and abilities maybe?

And he seems constantly so concerned that she has fucked him that he apparently doesn't care if she's truly okay.

What a normal person would say to Alina: "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I'm sorry you had to go through this."

What Mal said to Alina: "FUCK TORTURE! DID HE FUCK YOU BY ANY CHANCE?!?!"

He's so unserious FR

That's his only concern. If Alina likes or fucked the Darkling (sometimes I wish she had done the latter just so I could see Mal's face after it).

Also! He's an extraordinary bad influence for Alina and her confidence! 😍

A few minutes ago, Alina decided to return to the Little Palace to lead. To do the right thing and stand in this war.

And now we have Mal threaten her: "If you go, I might not follow!!"

And that shattered Alina's confidence. Now she feels ashamed ("maybe he doesn't want me", "maybe he'll leave me") and after that passage when Mal exits the tent, Alina starts thinking "What am I doing? I'm no soldier, or Saint. How will I make it?"

Mal is an influence that constantly wears her down emotionally by making her doubt herself, making her have guilts and making her thoughts come back to him constantly ('cause he's always "What about me?? Think of me!! Look at how shit I feel!!").

Again, he makes the whole matter revolve around him.

There is a civil war ongoing and Mal is like "Okay, but what about me, Alina??!!?!"

LIKE BRO NOBODY GIVES TWO SHITS ABOUT YOU!! THERE ARE PEOPLE DYING HERE!!

And another toxic trait of his. Apparently, if a woman says "no" to him, it's unacceptable:

(The first passage is when Mal tried to kiss her but Alina saw the Darkling behind his back and the second one is when Alina saw Mal kissing Zoya, btw)

He gets angry for the fact that Alina withdrew from his attempted kiss. And apparently he "knows what that means" because every girl he had ever kissed was willing to him.

I'm sorry, Mal, for the fact that a girl changed her mind at the last minute.

If a girl changes her mind, then you must respect that. Not shout at her. NO MEANS NO, MAL.

Mal is that type of guy that throws you in bed, you kiss him and all, and at the last minute when you change your mind and don't want to go for it (for whatever reason the girl might have of course) he gets angry and says "BUT YOU SAID "YES" TWO MINUTES AGO!!!"

He gives me the ick for real, guys.

And, of course, his fury for Alina's power and status. Because, since she gained them, she's no longer depended on him.

Yes, people. Mal wanted to take out a piece of her soul essentially, so he could have her! Romantic!! 🤩🤩

Also, the fact that he was constantly looking like shit in S&S because he was drunk every night is also selfish of him. Mal was Alina's personal guard and protector. One of her three closest ones. By doing this, by having this behaviour, he gives a VERY bad image to Alina.

Imagine what the nobles would think if they saw him this way. The power of image is everything. Nikolai knew it. The Darkling knew it. Even Alina came to know it. By having one of your protectors drinking heavily all night, get into fights and look like shit makes Alina feel embarrassed for the image she gives to the other people. And she was actually in a very delicate position at that time, because she had to gain the trust of the King, his counselors and nobles. Mal should know better than embarrassing her.

Imagine if you were in a high position for the first time in your life, trying to make an impression so everything could go alright and, in the meanwhile, your guardian walks around drunk.

This is not good. In today's world, they fire such people from their work.

And all these bullshit from him in R&R saying "I told stories of you from your childhood so they could see the real Alina" is also bullshit. Bitch, if you wanted to do something good, look respectable for the part. If you want to cry and drink kvas 24/7 then resign, lock yourself up and do it. Don't embarrass your boss.

Also, Bardugo had said that after S&S she received a lot of negative comments about Mal's character. So it's no wonder she made him suddenly all "good" in R&R. She wanted to give reasons to the readers to like him and support his eventual marriage with Alina.

Anyways, I know people will say that the Darkling was no better but, guys...

This is not a competition. Of who is better or worse.

And just like another person had once said in this fandom "The Darkling represents a fairytale character while Mal reminds you of every jerk you've met in your life"

And it's a perfect quote to describe them.

The Darkling is the type of guy we all fall in love in fiction. A fantastical character that does bad deeds but still you swoon over.

While Mal is that asshole you met in high school treating you like shit. That boy you were seeing in corridors flirting with every girl he saw and being a fuckboy. That relationship you had that undermined your value.

Mal is a character that hits very close at home for the readers (with his actions and personality).

This post about him and M*lina explains my thoughts perfectly.

Go read it when you can, guys. It's an incredible mini meta.