#poor coping mechanisms

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1317

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

A whumpee who got out, who got better.

A caregiver. who is so relieved the worst is over and whumpee may not be back to their old self, but they seem okay and on some days caregiver isn't even reminded of what happened…

Until they catch the whumpee indulging in old patterns. Maybe the whumpee secretly punishes themselves. Maybe whumpee lets it slip they see themselves as less than human. Maybe the indulge in the form of unhealthy relationships or substance abuse.

The caregivers whole world comes crashing down while whumpee completely undoes any progress before their eyes as they realize they got caught.

[janetbrown711]

A Twist on an Old Classic

Collar | Touch Aversion | "Leave me alone"

Mei's been having nightmares ever since MK revealed his true chaotic monkey form which she desperately tries to ignore as she and MK go out to a concert

(Harbinger and the Solider type fic, but not exactly ;) )

Ao3 Link

Mei was on fire.

No… no, scratch that, she was the fire.

Red and hot, destroying and aching and burning, she was a flame singeing the grass beneath her feet and crumbling the trees around her as tears evaporated off her cheek.

She could smell the burning flesh, hear the cries of animals, feel her own soul and light being slowly and achingly peeled away from her as she burned bright and crimson.

“MK?! Pigsy?! Mr. Tang?! R-red boy?! Where are you?!” She called, her voice cracking as tears sizzled faster against her face.

“Where is everyone?!” She tried calling out again, which only made her sides ache more as she continued looking around desperately.

She saw something move in a bush, and without thought she ran to it before it was cauterized in an instant, along with a little white rabbit.

“No– no, I’m so sorry– I-I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry!” She tried to scoop it up, but it was cremated by her mere gaze and its ashes were spread to the wind. Trying to grasp them was even more pointless, as it just caused them to disappear quicker.

“M-MK– MK where are you?! I didn’t mean to– I didn’t– I don’t wanna– MK, please!!!” Mei cried louder.

“Mei? Mei?!”

“MK!!!” Mei sprang to life, running with all her might to where the voice of her best friend originated.

“Mei?! Mei where are you? We gotta get you outta here!!!” MK called again.

“I hear you! I hear you! I’m almost there– j-just hold on!” Mei replied, heart pounding.

“Mei-! Mei!!! There you–”

Mei was going to run into his arms, but MK stumbled back in terror.

“M-MK? W-what's wrong?” Mei pleaded, stepping forward, but MK crawled backward.

“Y-you! You’re the one causing all of this-!” MK pointed.

“MK, I-i don’t mean to– make it stop, please!” Mei ran to his side, grabbing his hand before her friend cried in pain.

“GAH— What is wrong with you?!” MK kicked her away while trying to cool his hand, which was actively smoking.

“I'm sorry! I didn’t mean to– I didn’t want to– I-i–” Mei could barely talk, the words just bundling up in her throat.

To make matters worse, Pigsy and Tang showed up too, and instantly ran to their son to investigate his injuries, and when Pigsy noticed it was Mei’s fault his eyes turned to daggers.

“You did this to ‘im, didn’t you?!” He growled, pulling out his rake.

“I-i didn’t mean to Mr. Piggy, I promise– I’d never–”

“It’s Pigsy, you lyin’ bastard!” The chef growled and swung at her, which Mei barely avoided.

“I’m not lying-! P-please! I don’t want to be like this!” She wept as Pigsy tried to strike her again.

Pigsy kept fighting her and fighting her and fighting her as she ran further into the bright burning forest, her cries and apologies causing the flames to grow higher and higher in the wind, until MK was somehow in front of her with his staff in hand.

“This is for the greater good Mei– you know this,’” MK lifted his staff.

“MK– n-no– please,” Mei begged on her knees.

Right then a different voice called to her– a familiar, but long, long dead one.

“Xiaojiao!”

Ao Lie.

Mei shook her head, trying to get rid of the voice before she noticed her friend– her bestest and greatest friend in the whole wide world MK– just smirked in his shining monkey form, glitching yellow before he leapt into the air and struck her through her skull–

Mei suddenly gasped for air, shooting upright in her bed, and gripping her blankets so tight it hurt.

“It’s not real, Mei– it never is,” She whispered to herself, closing her eyes to try and ground herself but all she could see was the staff being hurled towards her while he had that awful, awful grin.

Instead of that, she brought her eyes to her window where the night sky was slowly but surely transforming into twilight. It was… sort of calming, though her chest still felt tight and hot– like a flame wrapped around and squeezing her heart.

Ever since the defeat of Azure Lion and MK unlocked his “full monkey powers”, Mei had been having dreams like that one.

Sometimes MK would kill her alone, sometimes it would be a group effort with the whole gang plus Monkey King, and sometimes she wouldn’t even get a warning– going from simply hanging out to him transforming in the blink of an eye and killing her.

But they were just dreams, nothing more and nothing less.

A dream.

Mei took a deep breath.

She was going to go out with MK today to a hole-in-the-wall concert a couple towns over and it was gonna be totally "off the chain", or whatever that flier had said. She had planned this thing out for months and it was good for MK to get out and get loose again– she was not going to chicken out after working so hard on getting MK to not chicken out.

Slowly Mei picked herself up and dragged herself to her bathroom, ignoring her glowing alarm clock shining 4:28 AM at her. As she flicked the light on and closed the door she immediately looked in the mirror, inspecting her sluggish state with a groan. She inspected eyebags and messy hair before realizing if she looked real close, she could almost see flashes of crimson in her eyes, making her jump back and knock over bottles of soap.

“Shit,” she cursed to herself, quickly picking them all up and sloppily putting them back into place before looking back in the mirror, seeing nothing but her usual dark brown irises.

As they should be. There was no green and there was certainly no crimson, because crimson was bad, crimson meant no control, crimson meant–

Mei took a deep breath, shutting the spiral before it got out of hand.

She was just tired. And excited. She had a long day ahead of her and she needed to get back to sleep.

Yeah… that was it– she’d be fine, this was fine.

Bad dreams. They were just bad dreams.

It didn’t matter if every time she woke there was a familiar burning in her chest, or sometimes when she tried to light a candle the flame would be red instead of green, it was just a bad dream.

MK would never hurt her, and she would never hurt MK.

MK would never hurt her, and she would never hurt MK.

.o0o.

Mei never did manage to go back to sleep, deciding to doom scroll her various social medias until the sun rose, and after that she proceeded to make a big cup of cold brew and headed out to meet her bestest, kindest, loyalest, never-would-purposely-hurt-her-est friend in the whole wide world.

Pigsy and Tang were happy to see her, as per usual, with the former noticing the bags under her eyes and deciding to comment on it, which made the latter laugh and the couple had some quick couple banter before MK ran down the stairs, backpack in arm.

“Hey Mei–! I know, I know, I’m late, but not too late! We should still get good parking,” MK apologized, not seeming to notice he was only three minutes behind since Mei had arrived so early.

“Don’t worry monkey man, I already bought the pass online, we should be good,” Mei grinned, when MK seemed to notice something about her.

“You get enough sleep last night?” He asked, and Mei sat a little straighter.

“Psh, you know me– I can pull three all nighters in a row playing Super Monkey Mashing Bros tournaments online, I’m fine,” Mei brushed off with ease.

Pigsy didn’t seem to like that answer, huffing a little. “Ya know that doesn’t make it any healthier.”

Mei’s face almost twitched to a frown but she brushed that off too. “Just because you’re a grumpy old man doesn’t mean I’m a grumpy old man, Piggy,” she grinned again.

Tang laughed as the demon rolled his eyes.

“MK, you make sure Mei doesn’t pass out in the humidity, will you?” Pigsy smirked a little, making Mei scowl dramatically.

“Oh! Sure! Though I wouldn’t worry about that; Mei’s got them dragon genes, she can handle a little heat,” MK grinned as his words made Mei shift uncomfortably– which of course Pigsy noticed.

“You feelin’ alright..?” The chef asked in a low tone, but of course the other occupants heard.

Mei shook her head and instantly brought back her characteristic chipperness. “I’m a-okay, Piggy– I’ll get a shirt from the band for you,” She finger gunned.

“I’ll add it to the pile,” Pigsy smiled a little too sympathetically for her liking.

“Alright, well, uh– we going then?” MK bounced on his heels and Mei nodded, grabbing her bag and standing as well.

“Lead the way, my liege,” She bowed and gestured to the door dramatically.

“Why of course, my good lady,” MK bowed too and they both laughed and exited before Pigsy could shout his usual “text me when you get there!” and before they knew it they were in the chef’s beat up car and on their way.

“So– I know I’m gonna sound like a jackass that doesn’t pay attention to things– but what’s the name of the band again?” MK asked, making a turn out of Pigsy’s parking lot.

“They’re named Monarch Ocean Small Minnow– they’re an indie punk rock band that I was obsessed with our first year of secondary school,” Mei told him, pulling up their instagram before realizing she shouldn’t show MK that because he was driving, but he caught a glimpse before she stopped.

“Oh right– I remember Lin used to talk about them constantly,” MK reminded the girl of her own punk rock indie band obsessed ex-girlfriend.

“Had to bring up Lin, didn’t you?” Mei snorted, raising an eyebrow.

“Had to,” MK laughed. “I don’t think you’ve gone through a worse breakup.”

“Sometimes I still find guitar picks under my mattress,” Mei laughed and looked out the window.

“After I made you purge them all? Wow, can’t believe you’d just lie to me like that,” MK shook his head.

Mei rolled her eyes. “It’s not lying if I genuinely didn’t know they were there– and at this point I want them to be gone, trust me.”

Her bestie laughed more, switching on the turn signal. “Well at least you two have very lucrative careers of your own now: her’s being a solid music career with 150,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and yours being– oh yes, what is your job again?” He teased.

“Hey! Being an heiress is not easy– and if anything, my job is making sure your ass doesn’t–” Mei shook her head. “My job is keeping you out of too much trouble.”

MK noticed her pause and glanced at her before he had to turn right, and it seemed he just decided to drop it (thankfully).

There were bits and patches of small talk here and there while Mei continued scrolling social media and think about her dreams and her powers and if any of it meant anything and MK drove, until about 45 minutes in he realized he completely forgot to fill the car up yesterday and they had to pull into a gas station– which meant Mei paid for gas and MK took her card to run in and buy all the junk his heart desired while she watched the pump.

Once he was inside, Mei leaned against the car and sighed, combing fingers through her still slightly ratty hair, cursing to herself.

“You’re losing it, Long. Keep. It. Together. They’re just dreams, they're not real, they're not prophetic, they're just dreams. Just stupid, stupid dreams,” She muttered, continuing to watch the pump until it clicked.

When she dislodged it, a little bit of gas spilled out, causing her to jump and drop it, getting the gasoline on the car and the ground. As she went to pick it up her hand went ablaze with crimson fire, which rose dangerously high due to the contact with the gasoline, which Mei panicked to fix even more, trying everything Red Son had ever suggested, but it was all useless as it climbed and climbed and climbed and–

“Mei! They had a buy-one-get-two-free deal on peach rings so I bought six bags, so I hope you don’t mind and– are… you okay?” MK asked, arms full of snacks and hands busy with sodas as the flames vanished in the blink of an eye.

“I-i– you didn’t–” Mei looked around, then at her hands.

MK’s brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing-! Nothing…” Mei shook her head. “I– I guess I had a bad dream the other night and it left me a little… jumpy,” she half-lied.

“Oh,” MK’s face softened. “What was it about?”

Mei shook her head again. “Not important– and more importantly not your fault, so let’s just get out of here.”

“If… you say so,” MK tried to laugh and lighten the mood, which Mei copied, but the air still felt rather sour as they started driving away.

There was some light small talk here and there, but after about fifteen minutes back into the hour-and-a-half drive, Mei’s exhaustion started getting to her and she began to nod off, and MK, being the kind and loyal friend he was, let her drift to sleep without protest.

.o0o.

Calm… peace… birds were chirping…

Ah, yes Mei was back at the training grounds with Red Son, where she had first learned to control her powers.

This… this was a good thing. It was calm here, there was no damage done, and as she looked around she saw the familiar long red locks of her darling-est Red Son, whom she decided to sneak up from behind for a hug attack, as she usually did in pleasant dreams like these.

“Aha! Gotcha,” Mei pounced before nuzzling her face into his shoulder.

“Ah– hi, Mei,” Red Son acknowledged her briefly before he looked out into the horizon.

“What? What’s wrong?” Mei frowned but didn’t let go of her partner.

The demon bull prince sighed. “Mei… we can’t keep going like this.”

Mei stepped back. “What do you mean ‘like this’? Isn’t this– great? Getting away from it all for a bit?” She tried to smile but Red Son turned angrily.

“‘Away from it all?! Dragon Girl– you– you destroyed everything– My parents are dead because of you– I-i–”

“What?! I haven’t hurt anybody– I’d never hurt anybody– I–”

“Look around, Dragon Girl– the world is crumbling at your feet because you couldn’t master a simple breathing exercise– do you not realize what you’ve done?!’” Red Son exclaimed, shooting fire at her as he spoke and it was only then she noticed the flames surrounding her and the smoke burning her eyes.

“I-I didn’t mean to, Red Son– I-I never wanted to hurt anyone-!” She argued with the prince, the flames growing higher and higher.

Suddenly, she wasn’t standing before her partner but MK again. In his monkey form, again.

“You know, the scroll told me I was the predestined ‘Harbinger of Chaos’ in this little song and dance of ours, but I’m starting to think he might’ve had us mixed up,” MK grinned, his smile glowing with pure yellow light against the swirling reds around him.

“M-MK, I didn’t mean for this to happen! Any of this! You have to believe me!” Mei pleaded with him as the temple started to crumble around them.

“‘The Harbinger and the Soldier were like the Stars and the Sky’ – do you believe that, Mei?” MK laughed, stepping forward but Mei was glued to the ground.

“Y-you really believe that ‘history is doomed to repeat itself’ bullshit? H-ha!” Mei tried to laugh it off but her “friend” only drew nearer.

“Mei, look around– there are no stars and there is no sky– not anymore, thanks to you,” He pulled out his staff.

“Wait MK please– I can fix this-! Y-yeah! I just– I just gotta breathe a little, like Red Boy said–”

“Red Son is dead, Mei!” MK shouted, and Mei suddenly had her sword in her hands. “Because of you– ALL of this is because of you!”

Mei shook her head. “This isn’t real– it’s not real– it hasn’t been real– this is another bad dream– I’m fine, we aren’t fighting, we’re okay– MK, please, just stop this!” She cried before MK lunged at her, which she managed to block somehow with her sword.

“My dads are dead– Our partner is dead– All because you couldn’t control your powers!” MK had golden tears streaking down his cheeks, gold like honey. Or molten glass.

“MK, please– you know I'd never mean to! I love them! I’d never–!” Mei backed up right into a wall that crumbled behind her, knocking her down to the ground.

MK laughed and teleported right in front of her before grabbing her by her collar. “We were friends Mei– and then you went out and you did this– I hate you,” he spat.

“L-let me go! Please! I can fix this! I promise!” Mei tried everything to get him to let go but his grip was solid.

He proceeded to punch her in the stomach so hard she went flying into another part of the temple, which again crumbled around her before he picked her up and slammed her into the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

She barely had time to look up before she saw him strike a pose all too familiar.

“W-wait– MK– PLEASE–”

The monkey tossed his staff and Mei was jerked into darkness.

.o0o.

Mei gasped for air as though she’d been drowning for hours, immediately pulling against her seatbelt as her eyes dashed from one thing to another, all while her mind and heart raced.

“Mei-! H-hey! It’s okay, it’s okay–! We’re here! I just need your pass,” MK’s hands slowly lowered away from her shoulder.

“R-right! Right– I– right, of course,” Mei took deep breaths and fished around for her phone.

MK drummed his fingers against the steering wheel nervously. “Did you... have another nightmare?”

Mei bit her cheek and pondered lying to him, but she was self-aware enough to know that would be stupid.

“Yeah, but it was nothing, it’s all good, homie,” She flashed a smile as she found her phone by her feet.

“‘Homie’?” MK raised an eyebrow and Mei cringed because she never said ‘homie’ ever.

Home slice? For sure. Hombre? On occasion. Haircut? Only when he tried cutting his hair during primary school. But homie? Never. Not even once. Not even as a joke.

“Tried something new and it failed; sue me,” Mei lied again, opening her phone to the pass and handing it to MK, who showed it to the scanner and it let them in.

“It’s weird, you were totally sleeping like a rock, I never would’ve guessed if you didn’t jump like that,” MK tried once again to lighten the mood with a laugh.

“You know what they say about sleeping dragons,” Mei shrugged and MK gave a weak laugh as he pulled into their parking spot.

“So– they’re not gonna check our bags for snacks or drinks or anything, right?” MK asked, handing her her phone back.

“Nah, they’re only checking for weapons and stuff– it’s not a big venue that cares about things like that,” Mei quickly checked the email with their tickets.

“Cool! I’ll take the snacks then,” MK grinned and proceeded to shove what candies he hadn’t already eaten into his backpack while Mei got out and stretched a bit.

She could still smell the gasoline on the car, which was weird. She also felt exhausted still, and it looked like no amount of cold brew was going to change that.

No matter, she’d be fine. She was a pro at staying awake for days in a row– and this time she actually managed to get sleep in between, so she’d be fine. Just drink some water in between shots and green dragon cocktails. She’d be fine.

It didn’t matter if it was humid and it was making her feel hot and sweaty like how she often felt before using any of her flame powers– especially the Samadhi Fire– she had it under control! Mei was soooo fine. This was going to be a fun day. She had planned it to be.

“Alright, you ready to rock and roll?” MK finger gunned.

“Always,” Mei finger gunned back and they started walking to the venue.

Mei lingered just a bit behind MK, but not noticeably enough that he'd stop or slow down. She… didn't really know why she did it. She was keeping her guard up, which was ridiculous because MK would never hurt her, and she was fine and completely in control of herself.

When they arrived, Mei quickly showed the scanner guy their tickets and they were allowed into the way too crowded venue with no trouble at all.

“Geez, they got us packed like sardines,” MK laughed and looked around.

“Yeah, they’re more popular than I guessed,” Mei looked around nervously, wondering if this was a violation of the fire code or something. That if she slipped up it would kill everyone in this building. That there would be no escape.

“Oh! There’s the bar! Want me to get you anything?” MK nudged her arm and pointed.

“Oh thank god,” Mei sighed a breath of relief and headed over, leaving MK a bit confused until he followed.

“I was offering to pay for you, you know?” MK pointed out as they pushed through the crowd of drunk twenty somethings and teenagers– even though it was only 2pm.

“Oh please,” Mei rolled her eyes and finally got herself in line.

MK frowned. “You know I’m not completely broke, right? I do have money, and would like to– ya know… buy you things too.”

Mei clenched her fists in her pockets, keeping her eyes forward on the bar tenders. “Look, I just need something a little stronger today, alright?”

This didn’t do anything to lessen her friend’s control, as he tried grabbing her shoulder to get him to look at her, but she quickly jerked it away, startling both of them.

“Mei–”

“Sorry– I–... sorry,” She shook her head and the bartender finally made eye contact. “One Green Dragon and an orange blossom.”

The bartender nodded, taking her card, and headed off to work.

MK stood by her and gave her a side eye. “Are you sure you’re okay, Mei?”

“Yes! I’m fine! Stop asking, jeez,” She mumbled, again surprising herself and only making her feel worse.

“You lie worse than my dad,” MK pointed out with a bit of smugness.

“Just need a drink MK, I’ll be fine,” She tried to correct herself, but MK was still clearly unsatisfied.

“Then you should probably drink water– not a cocktail that’s 60% alcohol,” He pointed out.

“Who are you, my dad?” Mei rolled her eyes.

“Mei–”

“Your drinks, ma’am,” The bartender returned and handed them their cocktails and Mei’s card back.

“C’mon MK, lighten up; your dad’s just a worry-wart, I’m fine,” Mei instantly took a sip through the little straw and tried not to react to the strength of the gin MK warned about.

“Right…” MK eyed her and took his.

“C’mon– our table isn’t far,” Mei ignored his hesitation, assuring herself she was fine and he was fine and everything was so fantastically fine, before they found their standing stable where they could set their drinks down and… not much else until the band actually started playing.

Mei drank more.

“Woah, woah– pace yourself, seriously,” MK pulled the glass away from her when she started chugging.

“You really do sound like my dad,” Mei rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not gonna be fine in five minutes if you keep that up,” MK snorted, pulling her glass close to him.

Mei eyed him. “When did you become all ‘Mr. Responsibility Kid’?”

“You almost end the world a couple times and you learn to get your shit together… sometimes,” MK snorted, finally taking a sip of his and Mei felt her stomach start to tie itself in a knot.

She eyed her hands which were teeming with so much hot and nervous energy they were almost sparking.

Her friend gave a long sigh and set down his drink. “Mei… you’re kinda freaking me out right now. What’s wrong? What’ve you been dreaming about?”

“MK, I… I really don’t want to talk about this right now, alright? We’re here to have fun– not to dissect my inner psychology,” She half-joked.

MK slowly nodded. “I… yeah, I guess that makes sense… so long as you promise to actually talk about it later.”

“I promise,” Mei lied with a soft smile, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten.

“Okay, good,” MK seemed like he believed her and she could relax.

Well. Relax as much as she could like this.

“Can I have my drink back then?” Mei batted her eyelashes.

“Promise not to chug?” MK raised an eyebrow.

“Promise,” Mei rolled her eyes with a laugh and he handed it over just as the announcer voice started up and band members started warming up.

Mei immediately whistled and cheered for the bass guitarist, along with a bunch of other probably sapphics as she winked and started playing the bass line to one of their more popular songs. Mei glanced at MK he rolled his eyes playfully, mouthing some comment about girls being gross and they both laughed. Which was good. They were getting into the spirit of things. They were fine. They were normal. This was normal and good and they were having a normal good time. Nothing to be nervous about.

Sure Mei still felt uncomfortable and hot despite hearing others complain about how cold it was, and that knot in her stomach was only twisting tighter by the second, but that was just anxiety and nothing a shot or two of limoncello probably couldn’t fix.

So once the band got playing Mei kept cheering them on, making sure MK was thoroughly distracted. She waited all the way until about their tenth song to say to had to go to the bathroom, but instead made her way to the bar.

She stood around for awhile, half dancing to the music when someone bumped into her–

Lin.

How… nice.

“Oh, sorry man, I– Oh my god,” Lin’s face turned bright red.

“Nice to see you,” Mei lied, the knot twisting itself to practically microscopic levels.

“What’re you doing here? You with someone?” Lin smiled with her stupid perfect teeth.

“Duh,” Mei waved her off. “What about you miss ‘perfect guitarist’?”

Lin laughed. “You’re still as cute as a button, you know that?”

Mei growled, feeling the heat within her rise. “I’m taken, so you can keep the flirting to yourself– though I guess that was never your strong suit.”

“And you’re still a firecracker too, I always liked that,” Lin tried touching her arm but Mei jerked it away as she had with MK, though with far less guilt.

“Two shots of limoncello,” The bartender returned and slid her shots to her, and Mei instantly chugged them down.

“Damn firecracker, you’re gonna blow this whole place down like that,” Lin laughed.

“Lin just– just– just shut the fuck up, m’kay?” Mei pointed at her sloppily and angrily.

“Can’t a friend watch another’s back?” Lin smiled all innocently.

Mei growled again, imagining how good it would feel to give her a flaming fist to the face.

“Woah– you feeling alright? Your eyes are all… yeesh,” Lin pointed out, taking a step back.

What? Wait– no– fuck–

Mei tried to act cool and find the bathroom as the band finished another song, but with everyone standing and clapping and cheering and those shots plus the green dragon starting to kick in, so she just took out her phone camera and tried using that as a mirror– though nearly dropped it when she saw the crimson had returned.

It was then she realized she felt burning hot– so hot she could swear she could smell her own shoes burning– she needed to get out of here, or at least just get back to MK–

Though MK would recognize the signs, right? He’d see she was losing control and then he’d tell the others and then he’d kill her, just like in her dreams–

No. This wasn’t a stupid dream. This was real and MK was her friend– she had to trust him.

Keeping her panic severely under wraps, Mei pushed her way through crowds once more back to their table where MK gave her a big grin which quickly fell.

“You feeling alright?” He asked.

“I’m fine! Sooo fine– we good,” Mei lied and started swaying as the band played their next song.

“I’m going to get you water after this number,” MK shook his head with a laugh.

“Bah,” Mei acted chill but was really desperate for him to shut the fuck up because she really was only feeling worse and worse– especially as the music just got louder and louder and started to swirl around her in a dizzying cacophony. She tried to just keep cheering and swaying, but as the bass kept ringing in her hollow chest the feelings got worse and worse until she fumbled back and–

.o0o.

When Mei caught herself, she wasn’t at the concert venue anymore, but some kind of weird and white liminal space, where a man with long white hair–

Ao Lie.

“Ah, Xiaojiao, there you are,” He smiled sweetly at her.

“A-Ao Lie– what are you doing here?” Mei looked around, startled to find she was dressed in completely white robes that were identical to her ancestor’s.

Her great x1000 grandfather sighed. “I’m here to… warn you, I suppose.”

“What? Warn me of what?” Mei stepped back.

Ao Lie suddenly looked at her coldly. “You aren’t stupid, Xiaojiao. You know you are losing control.”

Mei’s heart dropped. “I– am I dreaming? Because only MK really ever gets these kinds of dreams and you’re like– super dead so–”

Ao Lie suddenly turned into his dragon form, curling around her as his eyes glowed red and his mouth oozed and overflowed with blood.

“Long Xiaojiao, do not take the words of your ancestors lightly."

"Okay– I-I have to be dreaming– the real Ao Lie I met would never–"

"You know nothing of my rage, child– it burns just as yours." His voice thundered.

Mei tried stepping back again but was paralyzed.

The massive dragon coiled around her three times.

“You are a blight to this world, Xiaojiao. You’ll destroy them all because you lack control and discipline–”

“H-haha, you sound like my mother,” Mei laughed nervously but her ancestor growled, showing off stained teeth.

“I too dreamt of my death before it arrived, long and painfully. For centuries I lived in agony, but it will be nothing to the suffering you will bring to others.”

“Then teach me how to control it properly! Y-you understand it, right? Help me!” Mei demanded.

Ao Lie gazed upon her silently and coldly, keeping her trapped but not muttering a single word. For a second Mei thought she heard him laugh, but soon realized that wasn’t his laugh at all– too cruel, cold, or callous– it was–

It was hers.

The Lady Bone Demon.

“Now, now little dragon girl… Why would he want to help someone who’s just going to destroy the world?” She smiled, lifting her chin to look at her softly.

“You aren’t real, that’s for sure– me n’ MK totally kicked your ass and we’ll do it again,” Mei gnashed her teeth.

“Funny… but you and I both know your destiny goes far beyond my control,” She smiled sweetly, patting her head.

Mei shook her head. “I’m not destined for anything! I’m just– I’m just me!”

The Lady Bone Demon chuckled. “You sound so much like that little friend of yours.”

At the mention of MK he appeared behind her ancestor in his monkey form, eyes glowing blue and holding his staff, waiting for orders.

“You are the bearer of the Samadhi Fire, dragon girl, and this denial of yours will only lead you to your fate, like your dearest grandfather,” The Lady Bone Demon shook her head ‘sadly’ as Ao Lie’s eyes turned red and the dragon shrieked in pain– and it wasn’t long before Mei’s chest began to burn and she cried out too.

Mei fell to her knees in pain but felt hands start to grab at her– to which she desperately kicked and bit and flailed to get them away. However, as she successfully kicked one away she heard Tang yelp and she panicked as she realized it was her friends attacking her again.

“T-Tang! I'm so sorry, I–” She turned to apologize but Pigsy hit her with her rake and she fell to the floor, where Sandy grabbed her before leaping in the air and trying to slam her in the ground like a wrestler.

The move successfully knocked the wind out of her, and she remained pinned on the ground as she felt dozens upon dozens of hands crawl against her skin.

“Let me go! I-I can’t– please!” Mei clenched her eyes and begged, and from that a massive blast was formed, and all of her friends and family were moved off of her. However, this was no better, as because of her carelessness they were all crying in pain as the Samadhi Fire started burning them alive.

“W-w-wait! No! Pigsy! Sandy! Mr. Tang! Red Son! I-I-I can fix this– I-I– I have to fix this!” She started to sob, but again the tears merely evaporated. Still, she didn’t give up, running to each person one by one, trying every little technique Red Son had tried to teach.

It was all useless– so very, very useless, as she failed again and again and could only watch as their flesh rotted and burned, their cries ringing out in her ears.

“I-I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry–” Mei repeated, shaking as skeletal hands attempted to cling to her robe before they were reduced to nothing but ash and dust, leaving Mei all alone with the smoldering remnants of her friends and family.

“Poor little dragon… you held so much potential,” Lady Bone Demon got close again with MK.

“I-I don’t care about potential,” She turned again to Ao Lie, who was standing besides Lady Bone Demon in his human form. “Please… tell me how to stop this.”

Ao Lie shook his head solemnly as the demoness laughed

“I’m disappointed in you, Xiaojiao. I thought you were smart enough to know it’s already begun.” She grinned.

Hands were quick to seize every inch of Mei again, forcing her to look up and see MK again leap in the air. She tried screaming, she tried begging, she tried lighting herself on fire again, but nothing freed her and again MK hurled his staff through her skull.

.o0o.

When Mei opened her eyes again, she was sitting outside somewhere– and there was a hand on her shoulder that made her immediately stand up and almost fall over in dizziness as she tried to process where she was.

“Woah! Mei! Careful– you totally passed out there, take it easy,” MK tried touching her again, but Mei slapped his wrist and he recoiled in confusion.

“I-I’m burning up,” Mei realized, placing a hand on her chest. “He was right– I-I’m going to– I’m going to destroy everything,” She started to panic and started walking away, which was hard due to her legs tingling and still having a slight buzz in her head from the alcohol.

“What? Mei– Mei! Where are you going?!” MK realized she was leaving and quickly followed, again trying to grab her hand.

“Don’t touch me! I’ll burn you,” Mei started to cry as flashes of her dream flooded her mind. “I–... I need to get out of here before it’s too late,” Mei looked around the parking lot.

“‘Too late’ for what? Why on earth would you burn me? Mei, what is going on?!” MK pleaded with her, but it fell on deaf ears and Mei started sprinting.

“Wait! Mei, where are you going?!” MK chased after, but the dragon girl was fast.

“Leave me alone MK! I can’t– I won’t let it happen!” Mei shook her head, almost panicking further when she realized she felt a sizzle in her chest like she had… that day.

“Let what happen?! Mei– Mei, let me help you!” MK called as Mei crossed a busy street, narrowly avoiding a car and motorcycle, the former which honked at her.

“I-i can’t control it, MK– I-i’m losing it, I know I am, I-I– I can feel it. Soon enough I’m going to destroy everything– a-and you’ll be the celestial soldier sent to strike me down,” Mei’s tears were hot– too hot. They’d start evaporating soon, she knew it.

“Wait! Mei, slow down!” MK also narrowly avoided a motorcycle, but eventually did the smart thing and hopped onto his cloud and drove it right in front of her.

“Go away, MK– just go back to the concert,” Mei shook her head, instantly turning on her heel to go the other way, but again MK cut her off.

“Mei, what’s going on?! You’re being all vague on me– I want to help–”

“Then go away! I-I can call my parents, they’ll get a car for me– just leave me alone,” She cried more, and tried turning away again when MK grabbed her arm, which made her cry out at the deathly cold temperature.

“Mei–! I-I’m s– what’s going on?! What did you dream about?!” MK didn’t let go, despite clearly debating it.

“LET ME GO!” She snapped, jerking her arm away and to her surprise, MK did. Her force caused her to stumble a bit, her sneakers causing sparks against the concrete and more panic through her mind.

“No– no no no no no– I gotta get out of here– I-I’m sorry MK– some other time,” Mei didn’t even meet her friend’s eyes before running with all her might in the opposite direction, even going so far as to use her powers so MK couldn’t catch up.

Flames were licking at her feet again; she could feel the ball of fire starting to swarm around her again and she just wept and shook in fear as she could still feel MK following her– why was he always following her– she needed to get away before it was too late.

Mei managed to run/mostly fly her way out of the city and nearby the freeways when MK suddenly caught up with her and cut her off in his–

In his monkey form.

“MK, I don’t want trouble– just let me go,” Mei sank back.

“What’s wrong, Mei? Why are you so afraid of me? I– oh, right– I am in my monkey form,” MK cursed himself and it dissolved. “But seriously Mei, what is going on?”

Mei looked at him, still seeing glimpses of his monkey form in the shadows. When she looked at his eyes they were almost beaming gold. It could almost look like he was wearing his heavenly armor under his sweatshirt too– in fact the folds almost–

No. It wasn’t real. It was a dream, Mei, it was all a dream.

“It was a dream. I know it was– but– I-I– I can see it– I can feel it– I need to just get some space… please,” Mei felt the flames at her feet threaten to grow.

“Feel what? The Sama—” MK’s eyes widened a little. “The… Samadhi Fire..?”

The mention of it caused it to rise exponentially, and Mei quickly soared off, which MK stubbornly followed. “Mei! You’ve got nothing to be afraid of! Remember Red Son’s training?! He totally helped you master it!” MK tried to encourage but Mei shook her head.

“I-I can’t– it’s like– it’s destiny, and I just keep– and the images– they don’t stop!” Mei cried, the flames growing higher and higher.

“What? For how long?!” MK pressed as he continued flying beside her despite her best efforts.

“I-I don’t know– The scroll? Since I met Ao Lie? Since we saw those… ink things???” Mei tried wiping tears away but they were evaporating, which made her cry harder as she lost more control.

“Mei, slow down, please,” MK begged his best friend.

“No– I need to get as far away from you a-and everyone else as soon as possible– I have to– can’t you see it?!” Mei shouted and shook her head.

“Mei you aren’t making any sense! They’re just dreams–”

“Dreams in the dragon family don’t mean nothing, MK,” Mei suddenly stopped, surprising MK.

“What do you mean..?” He asked carefully. Mei sniffled, slowly sinking to the ground.

“They… Ao Lie, before he died, he– he kept getting dreams– dreams about– about how it’d happen,” Mei tried to laugh a little, but it just made her cry more.

“Mei… c’mon, you don’t really think–”

“Every single time it’s the same, MK,” Mei snapped and stood, the sizzle in her chest turning into a true burn, and she could see the grass singeing beneath her shoes. “Every night, I’ll swear I didn’t mean to, that I’d never hurt you or Mr. Tang, or Piggy or Sandy or Red Son, but you never– a-and I always cross some line– an unforgivable line– a-and then you just–” Mei hiccupped.

“Mei, I know you’d never do that on purpose, c’mon,” MK tried smiling and grabbing her arm, but Mei stepped back.

“Don’t touch me, I–” Mei held her arm, and flames started climbing around her fingers. “I’ll hurt you– I hurt you every time– I never mean to but I do– I-I–”

“Running away hurts me Mei! I want to help you!” MK protested, taking yet another step forward but she took two steps back.

Mei glanced at him.

MK’s face fell.

“You… you don’t believe me.”

“MK– MK wait–”

“Then talk to me!” MK argued. “If you want me to stay then stay!”

“No! Can’t you see it? I-it’s already starting!” Mei pointed out the rising flames but MK just looked at her with intense worry.

“Mei, there’s… no fire. You’re… seeing things.”

Mei’s stomach dropped. “N–no I know what’s real– you’re just–”

“Mei, look at me,” MK begged, but Mei couldn’t, she couldn’t– what she was feeling was real, right? It had to be.

Unless this was a dream. Unless she was still blacked out and all she had to do was wake up– yes! Yes, she just needed to wake up.

"Mei! It's not real! Let me help you-!" MK grabbed her arm, and Mei shrieked, fire shooting up and forming the all too familiar sphere around her, and burning MKs arm something fierce as he cried out in pain.

"MK!!!!" Mei froze, not knowing what to do as his jacket just kept burning and burning and burning and burning–

MK managed to take it off before it suddenly just turned to ash– but not before the grass started burning too.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry– I-I– I need to wake up! Yes– you’re right– this isn't real– I’m sorry– but it's not real, right?" Mei tried to laugh but the dread in her chest was undeniable.

"Mei, I’m okay, just breathe,” MK tried to assure her with a light laugh but Mei shook her head.

"No-! I need– I need to wake up!" a thought popped into her head, and she looked at her wounded friend with a mix of fear and determination.

"MK, you– you need to kill me."

"What?! Are you insane?!" MK refused.

"It's how I always wake up– I'll wake up if you just do it– a-and this time no one would even get hurt!" Mei said with a tearful laugh.

“Mei, you’re talking crazy– You need help,” MK pleaded with her, trying to grab her hand but she pulled it back to her chest, where the flames spread across her clothes as the overwhelming heat from within finally spread outside– the familiar crimson glow overtaking her skin and suddenly it was the Mystic Mountain all over again.

Mei summoned her sword. “M-MK I don’t want to have to do this…”

Her friend’s eyes widened. “Mei– Mei, please– just– just think about this! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Mei went into a fighting stance, and suddenly her sword too was ablaze in a maroon inferno. “MK, you have to– I’ll destroy everything,” She begged once again.

“Mei– you– this isn’t– please-!” MK too began to cry.

Mei swung her sword, and thankfully MK was well enough to listen to instinct, summoning his staff to block in time.

“Mei, this is insane! Can you please let me take you home?” He asked, pushing her away from him.

Mei shook her head. “I’ll just hurt them– don’t you get it? Do you want your dads to die?! How about Wukong? Or even Red Son?!”

“Mei, you wouldn’t hurt them– I know you wouldn’t,” MK denied, and again Mei went in for an attack and he blocked her.

“You don’t know anything– I-I– this power, MK– it’s–”

“It’s too much.. Right? You feel like at any moment you could just snap and suddenly the whole world would crumble at your feet?” MK again pushed her back.

Mei didn’t let it stop her, mustering her strength for three quick swipes at him, all which he managed to block, but only barely.

“You’re holding back, MK– just do it already! It’s okay– it’s not real!” Mei laughed a little, lunging to attempt a blow from the back, but MK was light on his feet, jumping high in the air and landing softly a safe distance away.

“Mei, please– I don’t want to hurt you,” He begged.

Mei was going to have to switch strategies, she was getting nowhere like this.

“Well, too bad– because I really, really want to hurt you,” She bared her fangs, raising her sword for a high slash, and it sparked against MK’s staff. She then attempted to sweep his leg, but he jumped in time, his monkey king training protecting him like she had hoped.

“Mei, stop, please– I know what it’s like to be overwhelmed with powers!” MK begged as she spun around, hitting his staff three times before attempting a side hit, and after MK blocked, he did his first offensive move of the night, kicking her to the ground.

“You don’t know anything,” She growled, the flames suddenly growing seven feet in height around them. “You’re ‘MK the Monkie Kid’ – a divine creature made of stone, blessed with the greatest, most powerful mentor alive, meant to fix everything that’s wrong with the universe!”

“Mei, that’s not true! You weren’t there! You have no idea what Lady Bone Demon or that scroll thing said– I’m a– a–”

“‘A Harbinger of Chaos’?” Mei teased a bit, laughing and summoning her dragon.

MK froze though– like a deer in headlights so Mei hesitated firing.

“H–how do you know that?” MK asked.

“Here’s the thing about prophecies, MK,” She sneered. “They’re vague. They’re confusing. And everyone always assumes it’s about the shiniest man in the room,” She had her dragon open its mouth to fire on her command.

MK’s eyes managed to widen more, and with a smirk, Mei got it to fire. He was just barely able to duck and roll out of the way, freaking out at the patch of flaming heath left behind.

“Mei–! You’re– you’re possessed! That’s– that’s gotta be it! You’d never– Mei, if you can hear me, I’m gonna get help!” MK summoned his cloud, which Mei absolutely couldn’t allow him to fly away on and so had her dragon blast that too, but MK summoned another one mid-air and flew off at supersonic speeds, which Mei struggled to copy.

It was hard keeping up, and even harder getting in front of him, but eventually Mei managed to get just enough ahead of him that she could strike him down to the ground with her sword, and she quickly followed him so he could kill her properly

“M-Mei– you’re scared, I-I get it– but why?” MK struggled to look her in the eyes as he recovered.

“MK, I don’t want to kill you or your dads or Red Son as much as you don’t want to kill me, but you have to decide if I’m really worth more than the world and everyone else you love– you have to,” Mei was honest, which surprised even her.

MK shook his head. “You aren’t asleep Mei, and you aren’t seeing the Samadhi Fire. It was your regular, green flames against my jacket. Something’s wrong, Mei. you need help, not for me to k–... to–... you know…”

Mei looked at him with a face of stone. She stepped to her friend, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. He smiled at her warmly until she took two steps back, and pointed her sword at her chest.

“W-wait– n-no, Mei– stop!” MK shouted, picking up his staff and successfully knocking her sword from her hands, but Mei ducked and picked it up again, going back to attacking him, to which he unsuccessfully tried repeating the de-arming her again and again. It certainly wasn’t easy for him– such tactics were dishonorable and so she knew Wukong wouldn’t have practiced it much.

Mei was fine though, all she needed was an opening. She got more aggressive– she kept swinging harder and harder so he’d have to block harder, try harder, swing harder, aim harder–

And he did it.

It happened so fast she could barely comprehend when she tossed her sword aside and threw herself in front of his staff, and like lightning, his staff pierced her stomach before exiting her, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

It took MK a moment to realize what he’d done, and Mei watched as his face twisted from confusion, to horror, to agony as Mei’s legs gave out, and he just barely caught her before she hit the ground.

“Mei–! I’m so sorry– I’m so sorry– I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry–” He rocked her and kept repeating himself over and over and over again.

“I-it– it’s not going black, MK– I-I– I’m supposed to– MK, I’m– I’m not waking up, MK– I’m not waking up,” Mei blinked in desperation.

MK shook his head, burying his head in her chest as a new kind of tears formed in Mei’s eyes– tears that she barely had the strength to let go– her chest sweltering with heat and yet so very, very cold.

“M-MK– MK– n-no– no– nononono– I’m so sorry– I-I– ack–” a tingling sensation filled her body as she rapidly grew weak in his arms.

“I’m so sorry Mei– I-I– I should’ve said something else– I should’ve gotten Wukong or someone– I’m so sorry,” Her best friend in the whole wide world continued to weep.

Mei tried lifting her arm to stroke hair, but she could barely even twitch her fingers.

“I-i shouldn’t’ve dragged you i-in– I’m– ngh– sorry,” Mei grunted weakly. “I-i love you– I-I’m sorry…”

MK was beyond words now, holding her tight and weeping openly as Mei was slipping further and further away.

This… this wasn’t fair! None of this was fair. MK didn’t deserve this. This wasn’t right– this was cruel, and sadistic, and cold blooded, and unfeeling, and psychotic, and unfair, and–

…It was destiny, and there was no fighting against destiny.

[glamphantasm]

MC Monday Prompt 3

Solomon offers MC a taste of some of the food he’s made. How does MC react?

(Warning: in this house we distrust and strongly dislike Solomon, his reveals in Nightbringer only strengthening this feeling. I intended to go soft-ish on this one, but it went where it went. Solomon Stans won't appreciate this. You've been warned.)

Upon entering Cocytus Hall, Kai closed the door softly behind him. His eyes lingered, tracing the ornate woodwork accenting the large foyer and sighed. The building was beautiful, he admitted to himself, even if it was the last place in the three realms he wanted to be.

It had already been a long day, even by demonic standards, and the tasks had seemed never-ending. Everything from pulling Beel out of the pantry, to several hours standing in an unmoving line to hold a spot for Levi's latest Must Have Collectible. At least during the latter, he was able to field calls from Diavlo and Lucifer as they came in, while taking bleak pleasure in sending Solomon's calls directly to voice mail, still marked as new.

And then that text... he shuddered quietly, still feeling the lingering after effects of the panic attack, exhaustion bleeding into his bones.

Kai took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he kicked his boots off - hopping a bit on the second to keep his balance. Peace and quiet. Maybe a long hot shower and puzzling out the geometry of a new spell he had been shown earlier, before getting more than a few hours sleep for once.

He took a deep breath, instantly regretting the decision, senses assaulted with a combination of smells that could only be described as miasmic.

(potions. it has to be potions, nobody could... - it was almost a prayer)

A door further in the house clattered open, and the smell grew stronger.

(not the kitchen not the kitchen anything but the... - unsurprisingly, prayers had gone unanswered. again.)

"My favorite student!", Solomon exclaimed happily, sweeping Kai into a one-armed hug. "You're just in time!"

"Your only student", Kai corrected, shrugging himself free as he dropped his bag, mood instantly flipping to irritated, knowing his tiny bit of quiet time had just been torpedoed. "And just in time for...?"

The growing dread in the pit of his stomach solidified as the sorcerer led him towards the right wing of the manor - the worst case has come to pass. The laboratory was on the third floor, not tucked in the back of the ground level.

"Solomon...", Kai tried for nonchalance, but couldn't fully hide the nervous quaver in his voice. "What did you do?", he asked as Solomon swept open the door to the dining hall, several silver domed serving dishes gleaming in the low light.

Solomon smiled, sweet and cloying, his cheer undaunted as he guided the other human to a chair, full place settings laid out carefully. Kai sat, nervously rubbing his fingers over his opposite wrist as his thoughts turned to escape. As much as he knew he wasn't literally trapped, old habits were always hard to break. The smells were becoming unbearable, Kai's jaw twitching as his stomach churned.

(he does know cadavers don't count as aged meat, right?)

"I thought," Solomon said, unfolding a cloth napkin with a flourish as he sat beside Kai, leaning into his space. "I thought about how the brothers run you ragged, and have you all to themselves...", the immortal's tone shifted, a bit manic. "I never see you, even though you're supposedly my apprentice. They take up all of your time..." Solomon paused, drinking deeply from a goblet of ominous green, expression morphing to a mockery of concern, "Aside from that, my apprentice, you're skin and bones. I knew heartier souls during The Plagues."

Kai stared down at his lap, hiding his trembling hands as he smoothed his own napkin, his mind whispering,

(don't bother asking which plagues, you already know...)

Solomon laughed, not caring about the lack of response, an unsettling sound as it echoed in the still, cavernous hall, underscoring just how alone Kai felt. "So I've made us a feast. To celebrate. To humanity!"

Kai's pale golden eyes flicked up at the almost-toast, and he reflexively went through the motions. Reach for the glass. Smile a bit. Nod... sip.

(that's it. good boy. play along. he won't be angry if you do...)

The sip became a large swallow, as Kai realized he knew the pale liquid - an aperitif, sweet and strong. It was one Asmo often had brought to his private table at the club. Usually served in tiny shots...

(breathe. just breathe. it'll be over soon, just distract him...)

Kai finished his goblet in a single, long swallow, tongue tracing the rim suggestively before pouring himself a second, the goblet nearly filled. He smiled, one that didn't reach his eyes as he shifted tactics, mirroring a pose he had seen used on Solomon to great effect in the past, legs crossing slowly as he angled himself to face the sorcerer. Topping off the other man's goblet, he nodded slightly, humming a soft sound that could be approval, and taking another long drink from his own, Kai glanced up up through his lashes.

The growing possessive flare in Solomon's gaze shifted, greedy, wanting. He leaned in closer, kissing the skin beneath Kai's ear. "Don't think I can't recognize your tricks. I saw them as they developed."

Kai finished the second glass quickly, swallowing hard as his throat tightened. He stood, a bit unsteady on his feet, hating himself a little more as he extended a hand to the man before him. "Nonetheless?", he smiled, leading Solomon from the room.

(a small price to pay, to not have to touch that meal; a part of his mind blossomed with satisfaction)

Kai felt himself growing hazy as he tipped his head back, arching against the sheets, allowing fuller access - an offering. An invitation he knew would be accepted, inebriation be damned.

Before the darkness took him, he heard, "Was I the only one looking forward to our time together?", whispered softly against his skin. Kai wished for a fraction of a second that he could care, a single tear sliding down his jaw as it all ceased to matter.

[bunnirabbits]

not sure if i want nanami to be a super experienced older man who will take the reigns in bed straight away, or a poor, overworked soul who’s never gotten the chance to lose his virginity so i can hold his hand and stare lovingly into his eyes as he cums inside a woman for the first time.

[violetscanfly]

Out of reach

[incandescent-mushroom]

people watching Teen Wolf (apparently??): Scott is a neurotypical boring character with no vulnerabilities or nuance

Scott McCall: in response to an extremely traumatic series of event in which my agency and bodily autonomy were wrenched out of my control at the age of 16, i am now tying my self-worth directly to the well-being of every single person in this town (including those who have repeatedly tried to kill or actively harm me) and if i ever ‘fail’ to save someone i probably deserve to die or suffer a bunch more than i already have :))). also, the narrative has emphasized at multiple points that i will sacrifice myself not only out of compassion but because of a deeper feeling of complete worthlessness in the face of my own limitations. i am desperately sidelining my own past as much as possible yet my PTSD is still shaping how i try to act out the values of kindness and mercy (sometimes to rigid or illogical extremes) because these qualities weren’t shown to me when i was at my most vulnerable. it feels like someone trapped a monster under my skin and even though i am trying to use my abilities for good, it’s still hard to unlearn the pure terror and pain that i associate with becoming a werewolf against my will :)))

[felonytaxevasion]

Couldn't sleep last night anyway here's Blake Thorburn if he was on fire

[pricetagged]

sacrum

It's not denial, and it's not grief. How can it be when you're not dead? Or: Simon visits your tomb. It wouldn't be the first time he got grave dirt under his fingernails.

2.7k words. GN reader.

Warnings: death; grief; unhealthy coping methods; denial; mild gore and horror; references to ghost's past (being buried alive); implied character death; unhealthy thoughts; grave digging (simon literally tries to dig you up).; unedited.

Look after yourselves please. Read the tags and skip if necessary 💖

_____________

He is overwhelmed with the smell of rot.

That sickly, sweet scent of decay. Vegetation and plant matter transmuting into sticky, pulpy mulch, life rendered into dirt. It's the white lilies that bother him specifically. They're resting there, creamy white petals blooming open and speckled with dustings of heady, brown pollen. It's like looking at his own pale, wan face dusted with pockmarks and freckles, a grotesque mirror image. Beauty and rage. He looks at them and they look back, open and pretty and sweet where he is not.

And they reek. In this place of dirt, in this place of twigs and soil and peaty, earthy humus how did they spray their perfume? An altogether too syrupy, cloying bouquet that stagnates around you, settles at his feat like dense, soupy fog.

He knew that you hated them - funeral flowers, you called them- and he scoffs, toeing at one of the drooping, lurid white petals until it wilts underfoot. Lachrymose, it seems to weep great fat droplets of dew or oil or whatever it is that cries out wet with a wave of pungent redolence. You hated them, and it's so fucking stupid that they're here now because you aren't dead.

He'd nearly bitten Johnny's head off when he asked about your favourite flowers, the sergeant's voice pitched low and thick like he'd half-swallowed the words before they'd even come out. 'Dinnae want to get her something she wouldnae like, but my ma always said that carnations were fittin' for-' the rest of the words seemed to whither, choked like weeds under the weight of his glare. He wasn't quite sure what he said next, only remembering the stricken, glassy look in Soaps eyes and then the weight of his Captain's hand on his shoulder hauling him out for some air. He'd shrugged that off, too. Roughly. Circled around to face him like a dog in a pit. His teeth ached, itched to bite, clamp down and shake and tear, but even mad dogs know not to bite the hand that feeds them. Instead, he'd bristled, hackles raised high as he shoulder-checked Gaz on his way back inside.

Heard them whisper, too, as he passed, hushed and soft like they were all too aware of his pricked ears and quivering, hungry jaw. Mandated compassionate leave, numbers for bereavement counsellors. Denial. Grief. It's a load of shit.

Holding back the words feels like throwing grit on the fire; it's a battle, suppressing the heat and the rage but feeling it pop and spark and simmer beneath the surface. It's not denial and it's not grief. How can it be when you're not dead? He'd crumpled the order of service program, all crisp white parchment and serif-fonted verses. He'd held it so tightly in his shaking hand that it tore and cracked, card-type rendered to clay under his heavy fingerprints. He held it like that, thought about ripping or tossing it but your face looked back at him from the front page.

Smiling. Beautiful. Flat.

True, it wasn't you, but how could he ever damage something made in your image?

It was that pamphlet that led him here, now. He hadn't attended the service, hadn't wanted anything to do with that absolute farce. Had ignored the phone calls, the knocks on the door. You were not dead, and he was not alive. True to his callsign, he existed in some hazy, temporal space. Sustained on rollie cigarettes and tepid tea. It gave his hands something to do, thumbing at filters and glossy, thin paper in lieu of something worse. In lieu of his darker vices. In lieu of disappearing altogether into The Ghost. Faceless form. Nameless, too. But even smoke and shadows move, and he found himself turned Orpheus, drifting past the souls and shades of the departed until-

Until he's face-to-face with those lilies and that little patch of moss on the corner of your grave. Just a little speck of green against black marble. Typical of you, to bring life into desolate spaces. For you to furnish something soft and verdant where others see only hard, cold, dark. You'd burrowed deep into his driftwood body, a little seed that cared not for his splinters and hollowness. He'd been shaped, fractured, by salt and pressure. Twisted into some gnarled, dead branch but maybe that was the beauty of it. Maybe that was a portent, a sign, that he could be useful to you. That you could climb on, cling on and let him pull you up. That you were nestled inside, marrow deep in the mulchy, spongey hollows of his bones. Not hard enough or weathered enough by yourself. No sun-bleached, ossein outer shell of your own.

No matter.

The soil was strangely warm, piled high, and packed tight above where you lay. He dug his hands in, scarred, meaty paws chasing the warmth that surely was coming from you. It was wrong, actually, to say that it was strange. Anywhere that housed you would be warm. He was. His lungs were burning, squeezing at him, oxygen burning like bourbon as it whistled down his throat and smouldered in his belly. His face was cold, though, mouth and nose numb and something wet leaking and pooling down at his chin where he's tugged down his mask. Confusion titled his head, eyes closed towards the sky, neck arched in the closest he'd come to prayer in years. It wasn't raining, but something was dripping down his face.

He'd knelt like this before, put loved ones into the earth and stood stoic under the pitiful gazes and awkward, pinched smiles of acquaintances and strangers. Unbidden, the words from Tommy's - god, Tommy, Joseph, Beth - funeral echoed through his mind. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable.

He'd done it.

Walked in shadow steps across the Mexican border leaking blood and viscera, yes, but undead. It is raised in glory, it is sown in weakness. He'd clawed his way out once. Dragged his weak, struggling body to the surface to draw gasping, ash-tainted breaths and haunt the earth again. He'd help you do the same. You need him to.

Soft thing. You needed him to help you claw at the rich, grave dirt above your body, great scooping handfuls until his hands were stained with it. It was keeping you down there all compressed and boxed in, and he just knows you'd hate it. Hate being from him, hate being alone and in the dark listening only to the writhing of worms and the footfalls from above. You'd always cry a little when he was deployed, resigned and beautiful as you sniffled your farewells. Not goodbyes, superstition or hope preventing you from ever uttering words so final. So severe.

It's not goodbye if I'll see you later!

He swatted hard at his ear, his temples, fingers puppeted by paroxysm as the rich, peaty marl below him turned to dust and loam. Just for a second. Just for a whisper, the air he was breathing was thin and acrid and tasted like sand. He squeezed his eyes shut, screwed so tight that phosphenes danced behind the lids. One breath. Another. He could feel the soil caking and cracking on his skin, smell the heady, peaty turf and he was back.

The last enemy that will be destroyed is death. There was no Vernon here. No Manuel Roba, no Zaragoza Cartel. Just you, the dirt, and the foolish reaper that thought it could keep you from him.

After all those years grave dirt lingered beneath his fingers. It slotted in, filled in the groves of his knuckles and nailbeds like the tide returning to rockpools and crags along the shore. His body was made for this, forged by this, hewn from rock and dirt and left to shamble in the shape of a man. It's why he was numb to it, why stones crumbled to pumice dust as he clawed ever deeper. It was easy to ignore the jagged little pits of sediment that dug under his nails, stabbing until he dripped red from the quick. Watering your grave, he gave an offering of blood, sweat, and tears. You must have accepted this tribute, been satisfied in this champion for your soul because he felt something tugging at his chest. Deep, behind muscle and fat and gristle his heart sped up. Pounding so hard it nearly hit his ribs. He could feel it, see it when he closed his eyes. His red string connected to yours, all twisted and threadbare and fraying where it bored down into the earth, but still there. Still vibrant and raw and red.

And so close.

It was different digging down. When he'd first been reborn, he'd had company. There was him, and a lump of festering meat. A sack of bones moldering beside him in the casket. Dead and useless. Until it wasn't. Until he'd nearly passed out twice, arm shaking and stomach seizing as he raised his broken fingers to what used to be its face. There was no air, just lungs heavy with copper and carbon. He'd been hysterically lucid, thankful that that sick fucks had at least broken his nose before they tossed him in the pit. Probably severed his olfactory nerves but it was a blessing, really, not to smell the putrid, festering thing that was oozing over his fingers as he scratched and gouged until he hit bone. He had enough of his senses to kick at the boards above him, contorting around the hollow spots in the hope that the pressure of the dirt wouldn't do him in. Not killed by fucking soil, not when the bastards who wanted him dead had already tried and failed with greater means.

Digging up was like drowning. Like being dragged away by a current, water pressing and squeezing at your head until your ears popped and your eyes bulged.

It was fighting the urge to breathe, body struggling and kicking so hard against a nature that didn't care. Cruelty from indifference. Lactic acid burning and cramping through muscles that you couldn’t stop moving. Stop moving and you're dead for real. Digging up was rage and hope, something fiery and heavy pulsing under the skin. He remembered some poem he had to memorise back at the state comprehensive. Hope is the thing with feathers. He was shit at English, never cared for it. But he remembered that because it was so bloody trite. He'd told the teacher, first time he'd ever volunteered an answer in her class, and she screwed her nose up at him. Sent him out for cheek. Only it wasn’t cheek. Hope was the worm wriggling around in his guts. The stupid parasite that fed off his fear and made him wonder if he could be purged of it. Those same maggots writhed in his guts, wriggling and squirming as he kicked and pulled up. And up. And up.

Digging down, though. Digging down was harder. He wasn't getting dragged down by the current; no, he was sloshing great bucketfuls of water behind him, wondering why the ocean wasn't yet drained. It was frustrating, endless. Some kind of wank Greek tragedy where he'd been cursed to repeat the same task, over and over again. To have what he wanted, just out of reach, the finishing line set and reset at someone else's whim. Tantalus, Orpheus, Prometheus. He knew what they'd done to offend the Gods, but what about him? What bargain had Shepard and Price struck to have him back? To have him stalk and hunt under their flags, their causes. Would you disappear forever, trapped in the caves of the underworld if he tried to look at you one last time?

His body wasn’t his anymore, hadn't been for a while. Not since Mexico, and maybe even before that. He was more ghoul than man then. Some kind of shambling hellhound they set loose and tasked to kill. But his body wasn't theirs either, not anymore. He'd folded you inside himself so carefully. Made a home for his heart and yours in the cradle of his ribs until he wasn't sure where yours began and his ended. He gave his body in service to you. His heart, his mind, the gristle of his ugly mug - all those chunks of meat were yours. What use was he, then, if he couldn't protect you?

Six-foot-something and 200lbs of weapon rendered flesh, and you're damned bloody right he'd use it to reach you.

Except, something was broken. Salt stung at his eyes; whether perspiration or tears he wasn't entirely sure. Because there were tears, he could admit that now. He could admit that to the magpies watching him from the cracked, weather-worn tombstones littered around. He could admit that in the thick silence - heh, quiet as the grave - settling eerily as dusk fell like a blanket.

'Fuck.'

Regret punched him in the liver, bent and stooped him under his face was buried in the upturned earth below his hands. The first word he'd said to you since his last mission and it was 'fuck'. He didn't even say it properly, just gasped it out as he crumpled in on himself like wet tissue. Voice all damp and cracking like even that one word didn't want to come out. Soul of a poet, him.

You knew he wasn't a man of many words, though. You'd forgive him.

He was tired now. Exertion drank from him, stripped him down to his crypt-cold bones. He didn't think ghosts got tired, but here he was shaking and kneeling in the hollow of your grave like a starving mutt. Pawing and pawing at you until his nails cracked and his fingers bled. It was sapping out of him, now, candle in his chest flickering lower as he got closer and closer to where you were waiting for him. His face was wet, the wind stinging at bitter trails that swelled over his pallid cheeks. Blinking sluggishly, he licked at his cracked lips. Apprehension lingered there, danced along the seam for a second.

Whatever he finds down there, whatever state you are in he will join. You will rise together or rot together, there is no other way this can go.

His breaths catch in his ribs, jumping too quickly past his diaphragm but not quite strong enough to breach. Instead, they flutter downwards. Or something does, something sets his fingers to shake as they brush against polished wood slick with condensation. It's so cold, you must be so fucking cold in there. It sounds hollow, too, knock reverberating like a church bell from where his clumsy, swollen knuckles bump across the lid.

A person cannot enter the realm of the dead more than once. Not while they're alive. So this is it.

And he's so tired, thoughts turning sluggish and foggy as he folds his body over yours. There's just that panel of wood separating you now. The closest you've been to each other in weeks. Christ, he's given so much of himself already. So much, from such a young age. He's not sure he could even go on without giving, without a mission. But he swore to you, swore just before he left that this was the last one. Told you that he'd speak to Price, ask for family leave or an active service break or something so that you and he -

so that -

so-

Fuck, he couldn't quite catch the thought before it slipped away. Couldn't quite get his eyes to open, either. Just feathery lashes fluttering against his cheekbones until he gave in. Until he let them drift shut.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall asleep here. Just you and him, together. He could picture it; your head must be somewhere just below his. You'd probably tucked a hand under your cheek, angled slightly to the right so that he could reach out and touch you from his left. His hand slid across the slick, dirt speckled board, tapping out the syllables of your name with his fingertips. Curled around each other, forever, in the cold, dark earth.

________________

Sorry, I hurt our boy 😢 Not really confident in doing Simon's PoV - I always write from reader's perspective but, uhh, not really possible here. Just had to get the idea out bc it's been rolling around in here, gathering dust. Maybe it's been done before? Idk.

Some biblical, wuthering heights, and Greek myth references. And no shade to emily dickinson; that's ghost's opinion, not mine!

Knight ghost part ii will be out this week (finally lol, yay). Then some of the other stuff I've banged on about.

[hahasuchagarbage]

In this household we pray for interdimensional liquiroot. It happened once in my blog and its here again, can't hear the complaints, there are none for me-

meme I was referencing ⤵️

[yoosung-ah]

a brief summary of Mystic Messenger (OG edition) x

[j2h5b5]

There was only one thing that could have dragged Steve out of bed at two in the morning when he was nursing a booze-induced headache and an Eddie Munson-induced heartache.

“We need you,” she said.

He didn’t even bother putting on a jacket.

***

Dustin was sloppy, red-eyed and so unsteady that when Steve thunked a strong hand down on his shoulder, he almost lost his balance turning away from the group of asshats he’d taken up with to see who had grabbed him. Some of the drink in his hand sloshed over the sides of the cup and dribbled down the front of his shirt and onto the already filthy kitchen floor.

“Hey, what the—” he began, and then he dragged his gaze up to land on Steve.

There was a time, not so very long ago, when those same eyes would’ve lit up at the sight of his babysitter slash idol slash best friend. He would wrap him in a hug if it had been a day or two since he’d seen him, or sling a companionable arm around him, or punch him good-naturedly in the arm in hopes of initiating a play scuffle, which inevitably ended with him in a headlock getting his mop of curls aggressively tousled because he was just never going to have any kind of athletic edge on Steve.

But now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the younger boy asked in a tone so sharp and cold and so very NOT-Dustin that it made Steve’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“Hey, man,” Steve said, aiming for casual if only to keep Dustin from embarrassing himself in front of his new asshat friends. “Can I talk to you? Step outside with me for a sec, okay?”

“Um, no,” Dustin bit out. “This’s my party, i'ss my house. It would be rude to leave my guests.”

“Yeah, since you brought that up … who are these people?” Steve swept his gaze over the Henderson kitchen, which was almost unrecognizable with all of the clutter, displaced furniture, and wasted teenagers. “And Dustin … where’s your mom?”

“Not here.”

“Well yeah, I kind of gathered that. Listen, Dust…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are the others here?”

“Oh, you mean the traitors who called and ratted me out to YOU? Who the fuck cares?” His voice lowered to what he seemed to think was a conspiratorial level but was really just an extremely loud stage whisper. “Maybe they tripped and fell and landed their buzzkill asses back in the Upside Down.”

“Okay, that’s it.”

Before Dustin could protest, the cup was plucked from his hand and tossed expertly across the room, over the heads of several unwary drunken youths and into the crusty-dish-crowded sink and he was being towed along behind Steve through the kitchen, the living room, out the front door.

“What the fuck, Harrington? Let go of me! Let go!” Dustin struggled against the vise grip on his bicep but only succeeded in ensuring he’d probably have finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow.

Steve paid him no mind until he had deposited the boy into the passenger seat of his car, slammed the door, and locked it. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, unlocked it only long enough to get in, relocked it, and turned to Dustin.

“First of all,” he began loudly, drowning out Dustin’s sputtering attempts to find the words he wanted to hurl at Steve in his outrage at being manhandled out of his own party. “First of all. Joking about the Upside Down in a room full of strangers? NOT OKAY.”

“They don’t even know what—”

“Not. Fucking. Okay. SECOND, if you ever imply again that one of ours should BE in the Upside Down, you will find yourself with my foot so far up your ass you’ll choke on my shoe, and if you think I’m joking about that, Dustin, try me.”

This time there was only an eye-roll from Dustin, because he kind of didn’t want to try Steve on that point and because he kind of felt bad about saying it.

“Third, your friends are not traitors. They care about you and they’re worried about you; they called me for help because you’re treating them like shit and shut down every attempt they make to help you. Listen, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, Dustin, but you have to let someone help you. You’re not okay, buddy. This isn’t you. And all this shit you’re doing, the drinking and the partying and the pretending not to give a damn? It isn’t going to fix anything. It … it won’t bring him back.”

“Shut up!” Dustin shouted, flinching so hard at the words that he smacked the back of his head against the side window. Steve winced at the sound of skull meeting glass and resisted the urge to reach out and check for blood, or a bump. Dustin seemed not to have noticed that he’d nearly brained himself, infusing his next words with all the venom he could muster. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Steve. Even if you were right, it’s none of your business what I do! I am none of your business.”

“Don’t say shit like that, Dustin. Of course you’re my business.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! What are you saying?”

Dustin barked out a humorless laugh. “As much as I’d like to sit here with you and have a heart to heart right now, I have to get back to my guests.”

“No,” Steve snapped, reaching over Dustin to slap down the peg lock when the teen yanked it up. “We’re not done here. Now I can go inside and clear out your house and we can talk there, or you can drop the bullshit and talk to me right now.”

“You’re not shutting down my party.”

“Then we talk here.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Right, sure you don’t. Maybe I can give you some words, then. How about this, Dustin? How about: ‘Hey, Steve, you useless idiot loser, you promised to keep us safe and then you fucked it all up like you always do. The plan didn’t work and Max got hurt and Eddie fucking died, and you couldn’t stop it. I hate you for that, for lying and making us feel safe and telling us it was going to be okay. I can’t even look at you anymore and I hate my friends because they don’t hate you for some reason, but we know, don’t we? We know whose fault it is that we came back a man short. It’s yours, Steve. Yours.’” Steve’s voice was cracked and painful, like he’d been eating gravel and chasing it with cheap whisky and cigarettes. It hurt, that voice. “How’s that, Dust?” he finished, staring unflinching into Dustin’s shocked eyes. “Am I in the ballpark?”

Before Steve could react, Dustin unlocked his door and flung himself out of the car. He was drunk and it was dark, though, and he only made it a few yards before tripping and landing hard on the grass. Steve was on him almost instantly, hauling him up by the arms and scanning him for injuries.

He didn’t see the punch coming, wouldn’t have believed Dustin Henderson capable of such an effective hit, right in the mouth, knocking him back a couple of feet. “Jesus, Dustin!” he shouted, touching his lip and staring dumbfounded when his fingers came away wet with blood. “What the fuck, man?”

“Hit me back.”

“What? No! Dustin, what’s—”

“HIT ME BACK, STEVE! You have to!” Dustin’s voice cracked, the sudden violent burst of emotion threatening to unleash something big and scary and unforgivable. A tidal wave that had a name.

Steve grappled wildly with the boy, trying to grab his flailing arms so he could pin him, but Dustin was surprisingly swift in his current state, and he launched another punch, this one landing heavy in Steve’s gut and socking the breath right out of him.

“HIT ME, STEVE! I KNOW YOU WANT TO, JUST DO IT!”

Fueled by a burst of frustration and a sharper burst of fear (what is this?), Steve recovered enough to trap Dustin’s arms against his body, using his own weight to twist the boy around until he was trapped with his back against Steve, the hold immobilizing him so all he could do was squirm and shout out his fury. “LET ME GO FUCK YOU STEVE WHY WON’T YOU JUST FIGHT BACK YOU ASSHOLE?!”

“Dustin, stop. Stop it. Breathe, Dustin. Take a breath. No, hey, stop. You’re not going anywhere until you calm down for me. Breathe. Shhh, buddy. Breathe,” Steve’s hold was unbudging, his tone stern but soothing. Dustin’s violent struggles gradually slowed, and it took a couple of minutes for Steve to realize that the boy was shaking with silent sobs. And then the sobs became words, almost indecipherable in the wrecked, wretched voice that was rough and strained from screaming.

Every sentence Steve parsed from the stream of horrible self-accusations added another crack to his heart, which couldn’t have been more than a mess of spiderwebbing at this point.

It’s my fault.

He’s dead because of me.

I couldn’t save him.

You loved him, I know you did.

Why don’t you hate me?

Why don’t you hate me?

Why don’t you hate me?

Finally, finally, the words stopped and Dustin sagged, exhausted, in Steve’s arms. Only then did Steve ease up on his hold, but only long enough to turn the boy around and hug him properly. He bent down to bury his face in the unruly curls, his own tears falling unchecked and inconsequential.

“Dustin,” he whispered into the mop of hair. “Oh, Dustin, never.”

And when he realized he didn’t have the right words, he just stopped. He just picked Dustin up and carried him to his car, buckled him into the passenger seat, and told him he would be right back. He had a party to break up, some kids to chase away, and a boy—his boy—to mend.

“You loved him, I know you did.”

With a soul-cleansing breath that sounded more like a sob, Steve made his way back up to the Hendersons’ house.

[tomurakii]

I kind of hate all the comparisons between kipperlily and like. Those fuckass "affirmative action fucks me over I wish I was [minority] so it would be easier" people because none of that. Is what she said. She said the bad kids already had more experience with adventuring before they got to augefort and it meant they had an advantage. Which is true. Yeah Riz was lower-class but his mum was a COP. Riz, Kristen and Fig had parents who were heroes (Sandra-Lynn is an active ranger, Kristen's parents are paladins, Sklonda is a rogue), Adaine's family was super rich and politically influential, Fabian had both. Gorgug's the only one who wasn't actively at an advantage [IN THE CONTEXT OF HAVING PRIOR KNOWLEDGE ABOUT HEROISM] and she didn't have shit to say about him. Kipperlily was the first person in her family to try heroism, the bad kids are largely legacy admissions.

Additionally to the people comparing it to the "anti-affirmative action" crowd: do you know what affirmative action is. The bad kids didn't receive special consideration on their admissions to aguefort or scholarships or additional financial support or extended assessment times or anything. How could she be mad about affirmative action if none of these people received affirmative action. What they DID have was knowledge about their classes that started much earlier than high school, which is what Kipperlily said in her file that she thought grading should be adjusted for because she did not have that.

To me it's less like affirmative action and more like augefort is like an IQ test. They pretend that it's fair and objective, but you can be taught how to do those things from a younger age, and if your parents took the time to teach you pattern recognition and shit then you'll do better on an IQ test than someone who wasn't trained for it and everyone will act like that makes you innately smarter when it doesn't. It just means someone taught you how to do that earlier.

Barring Gorgug, every one of the bad kids had access to information about heroism and their class at a younger age than Kipperlily did, which primed them for success in their classes. Every one of them got additional information about mysteries from their families (and even direct battle-tactics training from Bill), Riz especially with getting classified info out of his mum. Kipperlily does not have hero relatives. She's the first in her family line to attend a hero school. She knew nothing about it before her first day, meanwhile Kristen was already the chosen of Helio, Adaine had already been attending the best wizard school in the country, Fabian had already spent his whole life training with his father, and Riz was already involved in solving mysteries using info and tactics he got from his parents.

They aren't necessarily "privileged" (except Fabian and Adaine), but Kipperlily didn't say they were, she said that in the specific context of attending a hero school they had a prior-knowledge advantage. Saying they didn't is like comparing the grades of a kid who's academic career started with preschool with a kid who didn't attend until middle school and acting like one of them wasn't better prepared.

[r0semultiverse]

Digital Circus AMA Notes

Digital Circus is getting a season 1 at some point!!!!

#webcore aesthetic board for the series design

Pomni was going to be a frog originally. 🐸

90s toys Zooble inspo

Caine is an antagonist, but not by active choice, he doesn't know he's not helping. He doesn't feel a whole spectrum of human emotions (he's an AI).

"Caine canonically just lets things happen if he thinks it's funny."

Characters eat like Chao in Chao garden in Sonic. The characters can eat the food, but they can't digest it.

Jax's favorite food is spaghetti.

Pomni likes salmon.

Q "Was the ending a 'Last Supper' reference?" A "in a very superficial kinda way yeah." Religious stuff is sometimes just used for the funny.

Gooseworx tumblr sketches MAY or MAY NOT be canon to the series, so it's up in the air for every single one.

People can abstract from feeling too much pain if it breaks their mind from it being too much. Characters feel pain from things, but not as intensely as they would in real life.

Zooble is gonna swap parts every episode (implying they have spare parts) except their body & head.

Jax chose his own name & gooseworx likes to think he chose Gangle's name.

Ragatha was named "Emmy" originally.

They (the cast of characters trapped in the circus) can't change their clothes but Caine can. It's part of their skin sorta kinda.

There's empty space under Pomni's hat because video game model physics.

Spamton was partially inspo for Caine, Caine's VA did Spamton dubs.

Gangle only has 2 masks. Why's it (her hapiness mask) break all the time? Mental state, but the "real her" is "harder to break."

Kaumfo was gonna be part of the main cast originally before Jax.

Kaufmo's model has nothing below the waist at this time, but was made for that promotional image on twitter.

Q "What kinda person was Kaufmo?" A "He was the same as Ragatha in a sense, goofy & cheery, sometimes toxic levels of positivity."

I'm paraphrasing for the sake of note taking in real time, go watch the stream playback for more context & details if you want.

[the-bat-bros]

Anxious! Tim Drake

Have some angst head cannons

Anxious! Tim Drake who assumes that if anyone is upset near him, it’s his fault

Anxious! Tim Drake who hides in his room when his family is arguing, and stares at the wall, trying to make out what is being said a few doors down

Anxious! Tim Drake who dissociates whenever he is in trouble

Anxious! Tim Drake who gets aggravated the first time Dick tries to help him through a panic attack

“I said I’m fine”

“Tim I can see that you aren’t fine, and that’s okay. Please talk to me, tell me what’s going on. Let me help-”

“I said I’m fine!”

Anxious! Tim Drake who feels bad about shoving people away who are just trying to help him. But he doesn’t need help. They’re only pitying him anyway. They don’t actually care.

Anxious! Tim Drake who bounces his knee, taps his fingertips together, or twirls a pen to help get some of his anxieties out

Anxious! Tim Drake who absolutely breaks down on the floor in the bathroom when a mission went wrong. It was his fault. He didn’t do enough. He should have done more. He needs to prove himself. He needs to do better.

Anxious! Tim Drake who is up all night because his mind won’t shut up, going over every tiny little detail of the day and what he could have done differently. He’s such a failure. He doesn’t deserve to be part of this family. He needs to be better. They’re probably still upset about that thing from three years ago. Oh god why did he sound so silly talking to Bernard last week? Why didn’t he offer to help Damian with his homework is he a bad brother? Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.

Anxious! Tim Drake who finally accepts help from Jason. Jay links Tim up with his therapist. Therapy sucks but Jason was right, it’s helping

Anxious! Tim Drake who learns to journal. Writing down what he think he did wrong and then writing why it was okay underneath that. He feels so silly when he does this, but it helps

Anxious! Tim Drake who gets a little better every day. It will take time. Healing isn’t linear. But he isn’t a failure. He is doing the best that he can. And that’s enough.

[cyberrose2001]

Hi, hope you’re having a good day!

Could I request a masc human!reader x tfp!ratchet where the reader is a classical musician. I could definitely see it help him calm down, and having a human who doesn’t talk all the time would be a welcome breath of fresh air for him.

TFP Ratchet x Masc Human Musician! Reader

Hi! Thanks for the request! Reader uses He/Him pronouns, can be read as platonic or romantic

thanks to @uselessmacrowave for helpin me out <3

Warnings: None, SFW

Word count: (will update soon)

Ratchet’s optics felt heavy, straining against the glow of the bright blue data pad. He glances at the time on the pad and sighs in frustration. He’d tried a couple of different ways to lull himself to sleep. One was a soothing and warm energon mix, light orange in colour, and gave a gentle glow to the darkened room while he sipped on it. But it was starting to cool off; he’d left it on the table too long.

He tosses the data pad next to him and stretches, old creaky joints moaning as he does so. Standing up, he takes the mug and swishes what’s left of the energon mix. Its glow has dulled, way past its primetime, and he can’t help but compare himself to a dull cup of energon.

He can’t help being old and irritable. It’s just part of aging, he thinks. Or that’s what he tells himself to justify his cold nature. He doesn’t mean to be, though; sometimes, he wants peace and quiet. Away from the war, away from his work and away from the bickering humans.

Most of the humans, at least.

He wanders off to the makeshift ‘kitchen’ area of the base, close enough to the main area so he can sneak off and concoct his energon mixes. He dumps the remainder of his cold drink and goes to pour himself another when he hears the gentle, long-winded notes of an instrument, causing his audial receptors to tune in. Ratchet hadn’t heard anything like this before, and it had a soothing, methodical flow to it, much different to music on Cybertron.

“What on Earth?” Ratchet questions to himself, glancing over his shoulder to find the source behind him. It sounds so close it may as well be, or maybe Ratchet is so sleep-deprived that he's finally at the audial hallucination stage. Probably not, but for his mental clarity he better check just to be sure. He finishes pouring his elixir and quietly treaded to the central part of the base. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find around the corner, but what he finds is somewhat pathetic but endearing.

Alone on the platform of the many catwalks was his human, one of the less irritable ones Ratchet was assigned. He’s seated on an old chair that looks like it could collapse under him at any moment, complimented greatly by an equally more dusty piano with the dust half hazard wiped from it. It’s not elegant, that’s for sure.

But there's something so charming and different about this music. Usually, when the kids play instruments, Ratchet is the first to book it out of there; the ‘fine art’ they 'perform' is worse than the ear-splitting grinding of a starved scraplet. But this time, he walks closer as if his pedes have become part of a flowing river. The sound isn’t overbearing, and the notes are light and gentle; it’s as if his human is playing as delicately as possible not to wake anyone up.

Ratchet creeps closer, standing just outside of his humans field of vision, “What are you-”

“GAHH!” Y/n jumps out of his skin, causing him to slam on the keys and nearly fall off the chair. Ratchet flinches but keeps his composure, managing not to spill his drink.

The human places a hand over his heart and whips his head around, sighing in relief as he realises its his guardian, "Jesus, you should come with a bell."

“My apologies,” Ratchet murmurs, pausing momentarily, “I was curious where that noise was coming from.”

Y/n looks towards his guardian with worry, knowing how horrible his sleep schedule is, “I didn’t wake you, did I?” He whispers.

“No, no,” Ratchet sighs, placing his still full cup on a nearby bench, “I’ve been awake for… quite sometime now. Don't concern yourself with me," The bot leans against the railing, "The question is, what are you doing awake?”

Y/n glances at his phone, two-thirty am. He should be asleep but can’t convince himself to crawl into bed. The deafness of the night is too enticing, “I like the quiet.”

Ratchet nods in all-too-familiar understanding, grazing his optics back to the old piano, “I see… so what’s this then? It’s certainly more quiet than the ones I see Miko playing.”

“It’s a piano,” Y/n smudges the dust off one of the keys before wiping it on his jeans, “And it can be quiet or loud, depending on how you play it.”

Ratchet hums, shifting on his pedes slightly to lean against the railings, “Interesting, you never mentioned being a… musician, if that's what you call it.”

“I don’t like the attention it brings me, but I found this piano in one of the old storage closets and dragged it out… couldn’t help myself.” Y/n titters and positions his fingers over the keys, “You wanna listen? I mean, if you’re not busy, that is…”

“I suppose, if you don't mind an audience this time.” Ratchet casually says, making himself more comfortable against the catwalk, again ignoring his energon drink, "Show me your secret talent, kid."

The first light chords drift through the deafening silence of the room like a soft breeze. Ratchet observes his human, eyes closed and focused. How his hands float over the keys mesmerises Ratchet and reminds him of a well-trained pair of servos similar to his own.

"Sounds...nice..." Ratchet blinks his optics slowly, stifling a yawn. He should probably sit down, but his aching joints say otherwise.

Before long, he feels his optics becoming more and more heavy. The sweet song beckons him to stasis, but he stays put, his hefty frame rocking slightly. The gentleness of this new music is how Ratchet imagines what a warm hug would feel like or that first sip of energon mix after a long day.

Y/n pauses on a long chord to look at his guardian. He’s fallen asleep against the rail, arms folded with his chin tucked to his chest, and Y/n can’t help but smile at the rare sight. Ratchet rarely gets to rest, but managing to put him to sleep is another secret talent he can tick off the list.

[genolover]

I love characters who are flawed and have trauma and make terrible choices based on that trauma. I really do.

I'm saying this because while I've never been a huge sonic fan, I fucking love shadow. I have been all over shadows part in sonic x shadow generations. I am so hype for sonic 3, you don't understand and I did not watch the first 2 movies. I was only interested in shadow. Was.

See, I ship sonadow/shadonic and with the new movie reigniting my interest, I have been reading sonic fanfiction again. With fanfiction comes a need for context. With context comes the understanding that sonics life is so fucked up. Like, I kept seeing christmas island being used as sonics birth place and I looked it up and that's canon. Cool, he came from a place with snow and stuff. Guess who just found out it's named after the real life Christmas island, the island that the US used for nuclear testing back in the 50s without evacuating the nearby town (which there is another government run experiment on the moon in the 50s in canon. Im just saying, theres something we play with there) . And that's just side stuff, there's so much in the games and comics that's just messed up. My guy was stuck in a torture egg for 6 months in forces, and lost his memories but had to keep going in frontier.

I'm just saying this bad boy (smacks a hedgehog obsessed with chili dogs, a struggle food, yes I am reaching based on my own experience and will continue to do so) can hold so much trauma.

I will be overthinking this to make aus at work.