#so maybe she became one rather than just being a dark beast

[robborne]

kinda random but paarl’s name makes me think of ‘speak’ (parler/parla in Italian and French?) and ‘pearl’ of course lol

shiny creature that can/could speak ig /j

[yandere--stuck]



Can you do Yandere! Cahara, please? <3 I think he would be an interesting one

💙 Cahara hadn't exactly been the best person before delving into the dungeons. He'd been a thief, a burglar, an assassin for hire, the works. The stories he could tell… The point being: Cahara's record wasn't exactly squeaky clean. He could've spent the rest of his life like that, living adrift and moving from one job to the next, going where the work took him. But, then he met Celeste. It was meant to be a one-time encounter, but they hit it off. They kept meeting just to talk and get to know one another. And, gods Alll-mighty, he fell for her. She was with child, probably not even his own but, hell, he loved her and the child already. He wanted to take care of her. Start a family. Settle down with someone after years of being adrift. And the perfect job came at just the right time - for enough riches to take care of his family for generations, all he had to do was go into some dungeons to retrieve some guy. How hard could it be?

🔪 Incredibly. Incredibly hard. Cahara had never seen anything like this. Guards turned into horrible monsters and all kinds of other horrible beasts stalking the halls. And of course, he just had to go and get himself captured and thrown in a cell. Just his luck, huh? But just when he thought he'd spend the rest of his days in a dank, bloodstained cell… Lo and behold, his savior had arrived! You had managed to snatch a key from the hulking guards and were kind enough to allow him to join your party, the only other member being a girl you'd found locked up in this place.

💙 Now, truth be told, Cahara's initial plan was to take some silver and vials off your hands and hit the bricks while you were none the wiser, but something about you made him stick around. And not just because there was strength in numbers. Maybe it was a result of the sanity-sucking darkness of the dungeons, but something made him gravitate toward you. You were like a light in the darkness and he soon worried about trailing too far behind you or too far ahead. As you traversed through the dungeons and courtyards and prison, you slowly began speaking more and more. When you had the chance to, at least. Little things. Jokes or observations, which lead into a rapport between the two of you that seemed as easy as breathing. Just like with Celeste…

🔪 Not only that, but you made an amazing team. Usually, Cahara thought he worked best alone, but working with you in sync, like a well-made machine… It was like nothing else. When you both, not even needing to call out instructions mid-battle, struck at just the right time to send an enemy toppling and their head exposed… It was thrilling. Electric. Despite the terror found within the depths of the dungeon, Cahara couldn't recall a time where he'd felt more alive. And considering the dungeons themselves absolutely reeked with death, Cahara knew it had to be you that made him feel like this. He wasn't sure how long he'd been down in the depths with you and the girl, but already, you felt almost like another limb. He hoped you thought the same.

💙 Apparently, you were getting concerned about his state of mind. So sweet of you, always so sweet. But, the Mercenary had a feeling he was thinking so much clearer than he ever had before. He didn't need any ale or something to smoke. He just needed you. To be around you. You were his light in the dark. Someone he could tell everything to. It became so much easier to talk to you and the girl - well, chat to her, rather. You spoke of tales of old, of funny memories, of how you got certain scars… Of why you came here. His Celeste… And you did the same, spilling every detail for Cahara to soak in like a sponge. Maybe, partly, because you were scared of dying here and no one ever knowing the real you. It felt… Almost too perfect. Something preordained. Destiny. Like you and he were meant to meet. Because he was the one who was supposed to know you and love you. Cahara had never been a praying man, but the next ritual circle he saw, he prayed endlessly to Sylvian for bringing you to him.

🔪 If Le'garde was found alive, he'd quickly book up the levels of the dungeon with you and the girl in tow, all but shoving Le'garde through the halls in a frantic attempt at escape. If you try to part ways, Cahara would insist on thanking you for your help with money, or favors, or staying at his and Celeste's new manor indefinitely? He took in the girl as a daughter, too, which meant leverage over you if you were still particularly attached to the child. Cahara hoped just showing that he and Celeste wanted to provide and take care of you would be enough… But he isn't above drugging the meal Celeste's made for you (either with her knowledge and support or otherwise) and using chains or other restraints when you wake. 

💙 If Le'garde is dead, Cahara would still be annoyed at the whole thing, but grateful that he was led there to meet you. So, it all works out! Cahara would try the straight forward approach to asking if you wanted to join his and Celeste's relationship not long after emerging from the dungeons. He just… He just felt like he loved you. How could he not? After all you've been through together, you couldn't just leave. You confided in him, and he in you! You snuggled together for warmth and became companions… Friends… Something more? And he told Celeste all about you, and she loved you already! Please? Please, he needed you. The children, their- your growing family needed you and… Don't fight what's meant to be. He still had that bonesaw he found down there. That place changed him. You could see it. And you had, too. Don't think he wouldn't use it to keep you with him. Safe. Together. The lights of his life. Please. You have to understand. Bearing the soul of the endless meant that his love for you, his addiction of you, was just as endless and all-consuming.

[hongtiddiez]

my stand in final thoughts, feelings, etc.

what an absolute ride of a show. what a series of ups and downs and downs and downs and up.

i think what i find so charming about this show is that it really exemplifies what it means to be human. each character was flawed in their own way and each made mistakes that at the end of the day were just human mistakes. no one felt like a mustache twirling villain but rather a flawed human being that got caught up in something bigger than themselves, or caught up in their own ego, hubris, etc.

in a show that was clearly framed to be about second chances i really did not expect the wide array of examples of different second chances in life - the obvious being joe and ming, but then there was joe and new!joe's mother, ming and his mother, tong and may, joe and sol, etc. almost everyone experienced a second chance of some kind with one another. almost all second chances worked out towards a positive outcome but i respect that some were neutral outcomes at best; a total reset. a second chance doesn't always mean total forgiveness and absolution but rather a new slate to try again and i really appreciate that MSI made it a point to showcase that.

i am also once again grateful that the show did not fall into the evil mother trope. i was gritting my teeth waiting to see what became of ming's mom and in the end both she and joe's mom were parents doing their best, wanting the best for their children, and stumbling along the way - another perfect example of humanity.

i couldn't even come to fully hate tong by the end. the industry inflated his ego, he felt indestructible, he was able to get anything he wanted with his connections, and he allowed that confidence to turn to hubris and got involved in something far bigger than himself. a scared, cornered beast will almost always lash out and at the end of the day tong was lashing out for any chance of survival. he needed a wake up call of catastrophic proportions to get his head on straight but throughout the show they did show us reminders of how much he loved may, little glimmers of who he was behind all of that, and by the end when he was able to find peace those traits shone through again.

and with ming i appreciated that he still felt like the same person. he was still an asshole, still rough around the edges, still who he was at the beginning of the show but his efforts were channeled elsewhere, his priorities changed, and he learned what he truly values out of life. joe didn't magically change ming, but he did alter his perspective and give him so much to consider.

i still cannot fathom the pain joe has to go through every day looking in the mirror and knowing he will never see his face looking back at him. the show teased little peeks of the affect this would have on his mental health and i wish it had maybe delved into that more but mental health is always a slippery slope.

for the grit and darkness of the show the ending felt a little too fairy tale for me but i was also kind of hoping joe didn't come back. i know, horrible of me, but if i was him? i don't think i would've come back. he had to be so, so tired and he'd been through so much, that part of me wanted to see that happen as a final nail in the coffin, a message that sometimes death comes for us no matter how hard we try to run from it, and sometimes death is a kindness at the end of a long and painful journey.

idk i'm also a slut for angst so ignore me.

i wasn't mad at the ending by any means, i enjoyed the little nods to potential side couples, i loved seeing things come full circle, loved joe's realization that while HE always saw himself as a stand in or someone overlooked everyone else remembers his past self fondly and he made an impression on them. in the end, so much of joe's self worth issues were his own insecurities exacerbated by ming's emotional abuse.

that being said, don't forget to tell people in your life how much they mean to you. it can mean a lot more to them than you can imagine.

definitely think MSI is my fav bl of 2024 so far, it was something unique and a little darker, more mature, all things i've been craving for a while.

[ninjigma]

Cody's Little Sister

“It’s really quiet huh?”

Cody may have been tempted to keep his eyes closed longer, but he could already hear Rex begging Cody to answer his honorary little sister with something comforting. Anything really. 

“Probably more the lack of people being shot than actual quiet.”

Well. Maybe anything but that. 

But Ahsoka offered up a morbid laugh anyhow. And Cody decided she had been fighting too long. 

Currently, the two were a bit… lost. Though not of their own accord. The planet was mostly marsh, temperate and soggy, and though they had come prepared for that there was no preparing for a section of a natural water dam to be destroyed and flood their forward route. Thankfully Cody was pretty sure most everyone was out of the direct path of the flood, but oh so lucky for Ahsoka, she had been in the middle of the river crossing. Cody, a few feet behind her, cursed Jedi and their non-armor-wearing ways as he leaped forward. The wave hit him hard enough that truthfully he only remembered dark and choking until he was coughing up slime on their island. Everything to communicate had been damaged by the sediment, and Ahsoka was currently tinkering at Cody’s helmet to give them a chance. 

“How far do you think we went?”

Cody took another careful breath, chest aching horribly. But a bit more determined this time to be encouraging he started mapping the stars that had come out. “Based on where the sun is setting and what I remember of the briefing, we probably made it a few clicks down The Serpent's Back. Surprised we didn’t drown truthfully.”

He really is trying. Seriously, Rex, it’s hard when everything is always getting worse by the minute. 

“Thanks for the credit,” Ahsoka sniffed. “That armor doesn’t make you any lighter you know.”

Ok, now Cody’s eyes were open. “You pulled me out with you?”

Ahsoka glared at him a bit, as if what he said was absurd. “Of course. I wasn’t going to let you drown.” Then in the fading light, Cody caught something much sadder in her eyes. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you protecting me from the water and trees in the first place. It isn’t at all your job to protect me, but you did it anyway.”

Cody swallowed. He may be out of his depth but even he could very much tell that ‘your life is more important than mine because I’m replaceable property’ was not the right follow-up here. So he went with something more honest, the white and blue of her montrals making it a bit easier. “Any time Commander.”

Ahsoka chuckled a bit again. “And same for you, Commander.”

The silence that fell now didn’t feel nearly as awkward as Cody had expected. He was propped against a low tree comfortably enough. The moss made it just about as lovely as those new pods the Kaminoans were putting cadets in. Ashoka didn’t seem to mind either, sitting a few feet away to try and get the last rays of light to work by. 

It was when they were finally without almost any light source that Cody became overly paranoid again. Any small noise and he was tending for some separatist gang or some Togruta-eating beast to come barreling down on them. It also didn’t help that his chest twinged every time he shifted, and Ahsoka was better at reading people than he thought. 

“Here,” she whispered as the nightlife began making odd noises. The familiar noise of a lightsaber soon drowned them out and their little island was lit in its eerie green glow. 

Cody was about to thank her when the light flashed across something moving through the water behind Ahsoka. It moved slowly but purposefully, turning as if it could see-

��Turn it off!” Cody hissed as loud as he dared. 

The lightsaber winked out and Cody had no time to even ponder whether the creature could hunt some other way before Ahsoka's trembling voice cut him off. 

“I’m sorry, I-I thought it would help you relax.”

Cody couldn’t help in the slightest. “No, I’m sorry to snap that way Commander. I just think, as nice as the light is, it makes us a rather large target.” 

Ahsoka nodded, giving one last look at the fading helmet and then curling in on herself. Again they fell to silence, the sound of water moving now making Cody even jumpier. The fog and pain in his head weren’t helping either. He had to focus on something else. 

“Do you… mind me talking with you?” Cody asked in a slight whisper. “Would help me keep my head clear.”

He managed to make out Ahsoka turning to look at him (really, was this planet one big fresher bowl because of its weak ass moon?), though he wasn’t quite expecting the surprise. “Are you asking for… permission to talk to me? In order to help you?”

“Sorry Commander,” he answered in reflex. “I won’t-“

“Stop, Cody,” Ahsoka now sounded even more upset and Cody was sure Rex was somehow glaring at him. “You don’t have to ask. I know we aren’t alone like this, ever, but nobody needs permission to talk to me. Especially not you, or Rex, or any of you. Unless you’d like me to ask permission to speak?”

“No,” Cody answered immediately, though his mind was still processing her words. “No, never.”

Ahsoka has a small smile, even though she figured Cody couldn’t see it. “Then I suppose we don’t have much else to do until master Obi-Wan finds us.”

Cody took another pained breath. “Shouldn’t be long. I imagine General Skywalker is having a fit about him losing you.”

Finally, Ahsoka gave him a quiet laugh. Small victories. “They both worry too much. You had everything under control.”

“Yeah well, someone should remind them of that next time they decide to test how flightless humans are.”

That laugh felt more genuine, and Cody relaxed just a tad more. “I’ll try to remember, but I can’t promise I won’t be doing it too.”

“Oh, you will be,” Cody grunted. “Rex too, the di’kut.”

“What’s that mean anyway?”

Cody hadn’t even realized he had his eyes closed. Blinking he shifted slowly against the tree to wake himself a bit more. “Someone who forgets to put their pants on.”

Ahsoka’s quiet laughter did a better job than the moving. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound but Cody felt his spirits lift regardless. “You two sound much closer than Captain and Commander,” she said, though with a hint of something that made Cody suspect she knew the answer. 

Yet, Cody oddly enough found himself smiling as he answered. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve known Rex since he was a little shit. And now he’s a big shit, but he’s still my little brother.”

Ahsoka laid her head on her arms, crossed on her pulled-up knees. “You sound just like Master Obi-Wan and Anakin. Maybe that’s why our battalions work so well.”

“Because the general and I are both calling your battalion idiots?”

“I’d think I could earn a little more faith,” Ahsoka smiled. “But no. I think it’s more because you both say it out of love for your little brothers. You understand something more about each other, just like Anakin and Rex can.”

Cody knew it had been a while since he last laughed, and even though it was quiet, he found it quite nice. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am, but no one listens to me either. Especially Skyguy when he’s flying.”

They were now both laughing, the soft noises blending into the living environment around them. For how much pain he was in, and the fact it was becoming quite cold, Cody found this was a vacation compared to his normal life. “You’re just like them.”

“Who?”

Cody hadn’t realized he said it out loud, but he wasn’t feeling as reserved as usual. “Rex. And General Skywalker. You’re probably all feeding off each other’s crazy. Whoever partnered you all up must have been just as nuts.”

Ashoka snickered again. “Well I think it was Obi-Wan, so don’t think you're oh-so-good Mr. 212th.”

The sentence was suddenly so informal Cody had to cough another laugh. “If anything that just proves I’m the only one with sense!”

“Didn’t you break a foot once kicking a droid?”

“Details.”

Ashoka was now burying her face to try and be quiet. “No, you’re one of us. Disaster lineage is what Master Windu says.“

“Pft,” Cody started to shake his head before it spun and he stopped. “Rex and my batch mates would probably agree, even though they’re just as bad.”

“Batch mates?”

“Like, well, brothers,” Cody chewed his lip. “Closer than the overall vod though. More like a nat-born sibling. Decanted together and then trained from day one together.”

“Oh! I think I know what you mean,” Ahsoka said. “Some of us Padawan are much closer than others. I guess we aren’t that different, brought to the temple really young and then growing up together.”

“Heh, yeah, and look at us now,” Cody chuffed. “Practically twins.”

Ahsoka's laugh was softer this time, and Cody could just make her out as she began to shiver badly. Kriff, he had his armor and thermals, and even soaking wet he hadn’t realized he was probably much better off than Ahsoka with the chill. She looked like a shiny, trying to hold everything together. Cody then found himself leaning forward despite the pain, undoing the clasps on his armor.

“What are you doing?” Ahsoka was now all concerned. “Is something wrong? Is your chest getting worse? Are you-“

“I’m fine Commander,” Cody halted her panic. “You made sure of that. Just thought it’d be warmer without some of the armor.” Finally, he had managed to undo the breastplate and plied it and the plackart to the side. He then tapped the mossy ground and raised his arm, careful to hide as much pain as possible. “You’re not going to survive all of this only to die of a cold on my watch.”

Ahsoka barely even hesitated, which surprised Cody some. But as she curled carefully into his side he figured Rex called her little sister for a reason. And soon enough the shivering stopped and Cody found the contact quite comforting, as much as he thought it was gonna be awkward. 

“He told me I could go to you.”

Kriff, he had to stop closing his eyes. “Huh?” Yeah, he must be concussed. 

“Rex,” Ahsoka spoke a bit clearer. “He found me once crying in a supply closet. I didn’t want any of the men to see. I’m supposed to be a Jedi, supposed to be able to lead them. But when Rex found me I couldn’t even try to fake it.”

Cody found himself thrown suddenly back into his memories, the moment he found Rex, hiding and crying. It was like some odd twist of fate, to be hearing this. And it only stung him more as Ahsoka continued. 

“He helped me. Told me if no one else he’d be there when I needed him. And then he promised me that if he couldn’t be there,” her breath caught a bit, the unsaid being heard clearly. “Then you’d be there. If I couldn’t find anyone else, I should find you. And I guess I just accepted it was the same as with any of you. But Anakin once said something similar about Obi-Wan, and you never even hesitated to protect me today. So now I get it,” Cody didn’t even feel any pain as her montrals pressed against his side. “You’re my big brother too.”

Cody wasn’t lucky. No, luck wasn’t on the side of any clone. There was only training and fighting and suffering tooth and nail for one more day of miserable existence. And yet, here he was, thinking fond memories of a small blond mischief maker and how a family really was made, not born. After everything that had happened to them all, he was here now, doing what he actually did best: being a big brother. 

And when the entire sky suddenly lit up in dancing green and blue lights, he figured he should rethink the miserable existence part of his thoughts. 

“What is that?” Ahsoka gasped, mesmerized as the lights started changing colors, purples and reds shooting through like tendrils. Everything around them was bathed in it, and Cody couldn’t help a breath of relief as it revealed familiar white and gold armor and a very scared-looking master Jedi a few dozen yards down the river. 

“I’d say hope,” he answered. “but I’m not quite that concussed.”

Ahsoka's laughter rang a bit different now, and her smile was definitely brighter as she too caught sight of Obi-Wan and started waving. Rex was right. Cody would be there whenever she needed him, they both would. 

That’s what big brothers are for.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Ah yeah okay, sorry Thrud. We really bit off more than we could chew then re the summoning thing and didn’t mean for it to turn out that way.. We’re really sorry about that and swear that we won’t do it again.. We’ll go with you to see Keeper though

THRUD: "I've contacted the other Valkyrie. Just behave, and it should be over shortly."

ALTER-EGO: "Woah... look at the sky!"

Before you knew it, the sky went dark with figures as warriors blanketed the sky. The Valkyrie moved like a well-oiled machine. You saw THRUD take point, giving orders and the others following to the letter. They really were all identical- maybe some differences in hair or clothes, but outside of that they were

THRUD: "Set up the runes. Quickly."

One of the Valkyrie approached her, eyes narrowed.

BROWN-HAIRED VALKYRIE: "So, it's true? I bet it was that Sigurd's fault that Brynhildr didn't tell us. He's always been a bad influence on Elder Sister."

THRUD: "Watch your tone, Valkyrie Geirskögul. You're letting your individual opinions leak out."

GEIRSKÖGUL: "…Oh, please. As if that's just my--"

THRUD: "Irs. Please."

Rather than a glare, THRUD simply shook her head with a sigh, which seemed to give the brown-haired Valkyrie pause.

GEIRSKÖGUL: "…Yes, Sister Thrud. I apologize. I was out of line."

You watched as the brown-haired Valkyrie wandered off, as another Valkyrie approached.

THRUD: "…Yes, Rindr?"

RINDR: "That slimy, yet handsome-looking guy…"

She subtly gestured to RULER.

RINDR: "…Should we put two Valkyrie on him? I don't think one will be enough."

THRUD: "...If you say so, then it seems logical. Have Hildr lead the guard command on the Alter-Ego. Have at least five on the giantess at all times. Put Ölrún on the Sun Goddess. Put Geirskögul on the Ruler, she can handle him- have Ortlinde run backup. I'll see to 'Adamant'."

RINDR: "Yes, ma'am!"

After some time, the runes that the Valkyrie flared to life, and you felt an astounding heavy pressure on your body. After that, it became relatively easy for them to guide you where you wanted. Even the ALTER-EGO struggled to move against it- this seemed like something they did rather often, considering how quickly everything had gotten set up.

You were guided to a facility that seemed in a 'neutral' territory, between designated zones. A few doors, dark corridors, and you were led to a room that didn't seem… terrible. It didn't entirely feel like a cell. You were left alone for a little bit, perhaps to get adjusted.

A few minutes passed, before the door opened and the blonde Valkyrie you saw earlier, 'Rindr', stepped inside. She closed the door behind her, before standing in front of it, taking a deep breath before speaking.

RINDR: "Good evening, my designated name is Rindr. You're not uncomfortable, are you?"

She seemed nice. Well, she was holding a gun, but outside of that she had a pretty comforting presence.

RINDR: "Sister Thrud may have been stern, but this is all just precaution. Looking at the current facts, if you are responsible for the Beast, you also were the one that destroyed it. You're just being detained, but you should be let go quickly if there isn't anything else that pops up. We're doing things a bit out of order because of that Sigur-- I mean, as there were apparently some communication issues from Lord Sigurd regarding the Beast situation."

RINDR: "Let's see… the Keeper is holding council with the other Lair Servants, and you will be called shortly. This was rather sudden, however."

RINDR: "Just some ground rules. Your magecraft has been sealed by our runes, and it'll be nicer for everyone if we're all patient and relaxed. You can speak freely, of course. I'm not here to interrogate or threaten, I'm just a guard."

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

One, good morning!~

And two, to start this off, lemme give you the list of the angels in fresh dough! Excluding the npcs-

The main angels we have currently are Angel (of course), Eternal Sugar, Strawberry, Pure Vanilla, and Madeleine.

Three out of five of these angels have ascended!

You might be wondering, Pepper, what's the difference between an ascended angel and just, a normal angel? This is where the nightmare fuel part comes in.

In fresh dough, there are two primary differences between an ascended angel and a normal angel, those being appearance, and how they act.

Think of ascension kind of like, an angel's maturity rite in an odd way. Ascension most often will complete during a major event, but it starts years beforehand, the changes slowly build up under the dough over time. And it's not a pleasant experience in the slightest.

One important thing is that an angel's actions effect how their ascension will change them, especially their appearance. The generic "sins" so to speak and the severity of actions related to those "sins" make the most impact on an angel's appearance, Eternal Sugar would be a prime example of an angel with massive changes to their appearance caused by their actions.

Eternal Sugar's ascension completed the moment she became a beast, her main "sins" being lust and, well, sloth, and in a plethora of quantity as well, leading to severe changes in her wings and her halo. Her wings split apart, her halo split apart as well and now rather than her halo being over her head, she has multiple halos around the flight feathers of her wings. Hell she gained a ring of eyes in place of her original halo (do those eyes function? yes. yes they do. but it's up to her if they do).

Another important thing about ascension is how it effects an angel mentally.

And I actually have a song to describe this! This. -> https://youtu.be/1XxhVkIx6-M

Ascension starts out unnoticeable, small changes that don't effect the angel much, but it gets much, much worse the closer their ascension is to completion. Their own actions effect them more and more the closer they are to ascension, if they feel something is the wrong course of action but it's the only course of action they have, it will eat away at them, and it won't stop eating away at them until their ascension has completed.

It's bad enough to the point that if you asked, let's say, Pure Vanilla, about his choice to send his people away from his kingdom before the Dark Flour War begun, he'd tell you that while he doesn't regret it, the images it brought upon him still haunt him despite everything having been said and done now. Pure Vanilla is one of the angels that have ascended, mind you. His ascension completed just shortly after the war began, with the end of it (y'know him sealing away Enchantress (or at least trying to in fresh dough)) being the cause of the loss of half a wing (to say the least Enchantress dropped a massive piece of ceiling on his wing). Everything during an angel's ascension continues to effect them afterwards, maybe think of it like a case of ptsd in a way.

You are in fact going to see what occurs during an angel's ascension in real time during the story! By the time fresh dough starts, Madeleine's ascension has just begun, so I'll be steadily figuring out how to write him going through that.

So anyway yeah out of all the cookie "sub-species" so to speak in fresh dough the angels are definitely my favorite! :D I say, as if I'm not putting them in the worst situations possible-

👀

[hallothere]

well I anticipate you getting some angsty ones, so for the wellbeing of our guys I'm just gonna sliiiiide 34 (Trust/Comfort/Safety) in here. heck why not a 79 (hugs) and 57 (rescue) while we're at it

T-T-T-TRIPLE COMBOOOOO (34, 79, 57)

(technically in compliance. this one is a little violent and near-death-y with a side of made-up Ranger surgery so. be warnéd)

Baugarch was dead, to begin with.

The warg-father, minion of sorcerers, and fell-guardian of the Blackwolds was finished.

And so was Ningeryn, daughter of Nirondil, Ranger of the Dunedain. She lay under the corpse, still holding one sword in her hand as it pierced the heart of her enemy. The other was lodged in the beast's back. Not enough to have killed it the first time.

It hurt too much to cry properly so she let the tears stream down her face. Her first assignment... and her last. At least she'd done it. At least she'd found the warg, even if she didn't have enough time to track it to its den, or warn Andreg. She was supposed to get backup before she faced the beast in combat. She hadn't had enough time.

The warg was now too heavy to lift. She tried, but she was well and fully pinned. She'd scared birds in the otherwise silent Chetwood when she cried out. It wasn't how she wanted to die, in the silent, empty forest. Alone. She tried to put a brave face on it. At least she'd done a good turn for the people of Combe, Archet, and the surrounding towns. Farmers wouldn't get eaten. Woodsmen neither.

And she'd put down the sorcerer's beast. The minion of the one that took Amdir from them. And Mundol and Toradan. And Reniolind... Reniolind had been her friend, and they'd ensorceled Amdir until he'd been stolen from them completely. Until he couldn't see friend and foe.

The tears came faster now that she thought of her friend. She'd die not far from him, maybe have her name etched next to his. But she'd wanted to live. She'd wanted to avenge him as she could, and keep the lands they'd promised to watch over safe. But she'd lashed out too hotly. Swung her swords with no thought of defense, only destroying the warg that represented everything horrible in Breeland.

Everything became dimmer for a bit. She wasn't sure how much later it had been when a horse whinnied in protest. Boots crunched in the leaf litter and then Baugarch's corpse lurched on top of her. She cried out again. The dead warg rolled into the grass and a blurry face filled up her vision.

"Ningeryn! Hang on. Hang on..." It was Andreg! He'd made it... She never thought anyone would. "You had to go and challenge the beast yourself..."

But the rescue had come too late. She squeezed his arm once and all went dark.

-------------------------------

Ningeryn woke up screaming. She hadn't meant to, but the warg was clawing her again and that had already killed her once. She didn't want to do it again.

"Help her, Amlan!"

But that was Saeradan, and Saeradan would rather die than let her get torn to shreds. Well, if he could help it. And if Amlan was there too, they would be more than a match for some scruffy warg of Angmar.

On instinct she pressed her shoulders and head into the surface she was laying on. Wood. A floor maybe. There were hands on her arms, and she could feel them wavering as if they were actively afraid they'd hurt her. Someone was laying across her legs with equal hesitation. Saeradan needed her not to kick and roll. She would do it- anything- for him.

Ningeryn reached out for a hand and found one quickly. Heedless of the fact that there were bones under the skin, she squeezed it for all she was worth.

"Ningeryn?" It was Amlan this time. Sounding pained. Likely, his were the bones being reduced to dust. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded. It was all the motion she could stand, rigid and tensed against the pain as she was.

"Can you drink something? Saeradan can't stop now, you've lost too much blood. You were asleep before, but now--"

Now she knew. They were trying to save her. Ningeryn had fought to be here, in Bree, in the ranks of the Rangers. She would fight, but not fight Amlan and Saeradan and Andreg. That warg wouldn't kill her twice.

She managed to nod again, and to swallow something sweet and heavy. It went down bitterly, but it stayed down. Saeradan was muttering something soothing as he went to apply a different salve over what she presumed was a section he'd already sewn. Or, just maybe hot lava, as something like liquid flame touched an open cut and she screamed again.

She held Amlan's hand until it went dark once more.

-------------

Next she awoke, she was in the middle of drinking something freezing. She sputtered and that lit a fire in her torso. It was dulled, red embers maybe, but it was still there and it still hurt. The drink had been moved and someone was drying her face with a towel.

"You're safe. You're in Saeradan's house. It's me, Andreg, and you've been asleep for almost a day. Nestadam is on her way from Nen Harn, and she'll be here soon."

Ningeryn didn't respond as gently and eloquently. "Whahappen?" Her mouth felt dry- probably the reason for the offered drink- and she felt like her head was wrapped in wool.

"Do you remember anything? What was the last thing we talked about?"

She wanted to curse his protocol and his probing questions. But, she was still leaned up against him where he'd helped her to drink and she was very comfortable. One arm hugged supportively around her shoulders, the other lost to the void or possibly still holding the towel. Ningeryn was unfortunately familiar with being nursemaided, but it was still a safe feeling. A good feeling.

"I killed it," she said at last, "I killed that warg."

Andreg sighed. "Without backup. What possessed you--"

"Don't rile her up, Andreg." That was Saeradan. All gentle admonishment. "You think she hasn't learned her lesson?"

The hand she could feel tightened around her shoulder. "No, of course not." Not a true retort. Andreg was uncommonly quiet. But she was sure about why now, as she was coming out of the fog. He'd even warned her about it before she left. He couldn't lose another of them so soon. Not after Reniolind.

"I'm fine." Ningeryn said. If she sounded sure enough she might convince them both. "I'm tired, and it does hurt a little, but I'm fine."

"No you're not."

Aha. Two voices in tandem. Ningeryn let herself smile. Oh she was fine now, and she was sure they'd make certain of it.

[freebooter4ever]

Are the lines on your drawings stylistic choices or are they measurement/guiding lines? Either way, they are cool, but just wondered. I dont understand drawing at all, might as well be a magic spell to me. I was looking at the pencil (?) sketch of Malkin with the cheesecutter hat on.

i, uh, definitely did not google 'cheesecutter hat' until after i saved out these images. :/ sorry about that. if you'd like the other one broken down, i can do that too lol. my reading comprehension when im tired is kinda lazy i just saw 'cheese' and imediately thought 'omelette'. SO here's the 1) initial sketch, 2) 'clean' sketch, and 3) final lines for the omelette boy drawing instead:

also i have had a cumulative of about 9 ish hrs of sleep total for the past two days so keep that in mind for if this explanation makes no sense, its not my fault. :( anyway! the way i draw definitely has changed over the years but currently im really trying to focus on the line i "see" rather than the one that is actually "there". i've been applying this to my writing for years (story vs happening truth) and you know it never occurred to me that i could do it in my drawings too till like...a few years ago. in general these lines seem to form the planes of the subject. if you google 'stanford bunny' you can find an easy example of a 3D surface turned into triangles. I do this too - see things in relative triangle proportions, except i've been doing it long before i knew how computers worked. i cant begin to tell you how long d*sney and cartooning's obsession with round building blocks of anatomical structure fucked with my brain until i finally decided i could cast that teaching aside completely.

ANYWAY sorry off subject again. so we have these sketchy under lines, and usually as im trying to find the proportions and form of the subject these lines end up being where the light/shadow hits. here i saved out the 1) 'flat colors', 2) the 'light', and 3) the 'shadow' parts on their own (i lightened the background for the 'shadow' so its easier to see):

the light is like four or five 'overlay' layers of pale yellow/orange. you can see how each of these layers follow one of those sketchy lines i did initially. and the same with the shadow but instead its a dark red color set to 'multiply' for each layer. and when you combine everything together you get:

some bullshit :). anyway you know that anniversary edition of beauty and the beast that featured the version previewed to nyc audiences in 1990 with the glen ke*ne sketchy keyframe animation of the beast's transformation? i watched that - must have been sometime after i graduated college - and i felt robbed that THAT version was never presented as a final piece. the 'unclean' drawings had so much more life and movement and intensity to them. tldr i like the messy lines, i hate 'inking' with a passion (HATE. IT.), and when i finally allowed myself to stop giving a fuck drawing became way more interesting. but my art is shit and i will never be glen k*ane so i dont really feel like the best advocate for this "style". alas. there was this one artist on tumblr who i fucking loved whose sketches were SPECTACULAR but the asshole racists in the m*c*ha*nz*o fandom bullied her off tumblr and ive never been able to find her art anywhere else since. she was also very negative about her 'unclean' sketches and it made me so sad. there was also this other artist whose sketches were awe inspiring but all she drew was p*rn and well...we all know what happened on tumblr in december 2018.

also i 100% stole the lighting scheme from The Bear which is currently one of the most gorgeous shows on television right now in my opinion

im really really sorry if this makes no sense, if im feeling motivated maybe i'll try again when my brain is fully functioning but with the actual 'cheesecutter hat' doodle ^_^

[roxanneminerals]

Cold Reunions Ch. 1

^Still hate that title but I'm bad at names. Well titles, really. If I could just call this thing 'Kevin,' I would.

You know what, fuck it. Kevin Chapter 1.

I absolutely despise this chapter and looking at it makes me wish I couldn't read. Okay maybe that's hyperbole, but I'm not happy with it. See, my problem is I have these scenes I know I want to happen, but I never know how to get characters from A to B. Also exposition is annoying and I know there's a way to do it well but I'm not a writer. Anyway I'm not going to spend anymore time on it or look at it ever again. It's your problem now 🫵

Anyway if you somehow stumbled upon this, this is my Pokémon swsh Crown Tundra fancomic/fic thing. Basically it's a three-year timeskip from the DLC (see, when I first started writing this, that's how long it'd been in real life 😌). Peony, Peonia, and Gloria return to the Tundra to each get away from their problems, but only seem to find more to be worried about as Peony starts to remember strange things about their last visit, and his recently released, supposedly reformed brother. All the while, dark clouds gather above the Max Lair as odd rumblings emerge from its depths...

I don't think I actually put a description on the prologue, so there ya go. Rest is under the cut. Don't accidently click it or you'll be scrolling for a while. My bad.

Oh also AO3 scared me so I'll just be posting here from now on.

By the time Peony stepped foot off the train with their luggage, the girls were already dashing out the door, chanting about their trip to the Max Lair. Clearly, Gloria had gotten over her funk. He fought the urge to chase after them, remembering his promise to Nia. Besides, she was practically an adult at this point, she should've been able to make her own decisions… right? The realization that he would soon technically be the parent of an adult child did not comfort him, so he did his best to shake it off. He decided to hang back and follow them at a pace, just to make sure they got to their destination safely.

As he trudged out of the station, he felt like a beast of burden, backpack on his back, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and suitcase in hand. The noon sun shone brightly over the tundra, causing the snow to glitter and granting a faint glow to the few remaining leaves that hung lazily from the surrounding trees. Stepping past the fence which encircled the station, Peony was met with the familiar face of the Freezington mayor.

"Ah, Mr. Peony! I'm so glad your family could join us this year for the Solstice Festival." The old man beamed. Peony didn't remember him being so chipper. In fact, he had seemed a tad prickly last time they visited, though that very well could've been his imagination. "Your daughters just ran past," he added. "I believe they were headed to the Max Lair."

"Hiya! Chuffed t'see ya, Mr. Mayor! It's my daughter and her friend, actually." Peony corrected, setting down his suitcase to shake the man's hand. "And I know, they're coming to the inn later."

"Ah, I see. Well, allow me to help with your bags."

"Oh! No need! That one's a tad--" Before Peony could finish, the old man had effortlessly lifted the suitcase at his feet. "--heavy. How did you...?"

"M'lad, I've been a farmer since I could walk."

"O-oh, right." Still a bit taken aback by the seemingly frail man's sudden show of strength, Peony bit his tongue as the two began their trek to the village. In the silence, he became acutely aware of an odd sensation of being watched, or rather, observed. It felt more analytic than malicious, like a scientist gathering data instead of a predator stalking its prey. Of course, being watched was being watched, and Peony silently kicked himself for his useless philosophizing about distinctions. Before he had time to dwell on the thought any longer, the feeling was gone, and the old man spoke up.

"A lot has changed since you folks last visited. Ever since, we've been having harvests like I haven't seen since I was a lad. Some of the more superstitious villagers have started to see the lot of you as a sort of good-luck charm, and who can blame them? Seems like our King has finally returned."

“I've been called a lot of things in my day, but lucky charm's a new one!" Peony laughed, pretty sure the man was joking, but it was hard to tell his expression behind his thick coke-bottle glasses and wool hat.

Indeed, the village looked in far better shape than on their last visit. Despite the thick blanket of snow which already covered the ground, the fields in the center of the field glowed golden with grain, which one elderly woman worked away at with a sickle, while another hauled the bushels off for threshing. In another patch, an old man worked diligently at cutting pumpkins from the vine. Next to him, a wheelbarrow overflowed with the orange and green gourds.

"Ah, here we are." In the midst of their conversation, Peony hadn't realized they had already made it to the inn. As the mayor fumbled with his keys, he continued to look around absentmindedly, his eyes landing on the wooden statue standing at the edge of the fields.

He had nearly forgotten about the region's big-headed harvest deity, but looking at the effigy filled him with a strange mix of nostalgia and unease. Without thinking, he found himself wandering towards it. Upon close inspection, he realized that the once bare and snow-covered statue had been cleaned and adorned with wreaths, candles, and incense. In front of it sat some of the finest looking vegetables from the harvest, presumably as an offering. He looked into the carved eyes of the wooden creature and for a moment, he could almost remember–

"Admiring our King, eh?" The old man's voice snapped Peony back to reality.

"Oh, aye. Looks like they're doin' rather well for themselves these days, yeah?"

He smiled. “Since our harvests have improved, some of the villagers have taken up worship of our King again by making offerings to their statue. Some have even tried to travel to the old shrine, though the path's proved too treacherous for us geezers." He paused, looking up at the great tree atop the snowy summit overlooking the village. "It's a shame so many of our ancestors' practices have been lost to history, though..." His eyes rested on Peony's face as if looking for something, but all he got in return was a blank stare. He turned his attention back to the Inn. "I've unlocked the door for you."

Peony followed the man inside, feeling immediately awash with warmth as the building's central heating met his face. It was only about noon, but he felt the overwhelming urge to curl up and take a nap by the fireplace.

"Your key is on the dining table, there are extra towels and linens in the closet upstairs, and I've gone ahead and taken the liberty of leaving some staples in the kitchen. Oh! And here,” The mayor reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a pamphlet decorated in shades of blue and white and handing it to Peony. On the front page was a drawing of the same weird statue as outside. “Here's some information on our festival," the mayor explained. “It's been years since we last held one, so we had to compile information for tourists and locals alike!” He chuckled. "You remember where my home is, correct? As with last time, please don't hesitate to call if you need anything." Half-listening as he leafed through the flier, Peony nodded.

"I believe that is all," the mayor continued. "I hope to see you folks Friday evening!"

“Ta, Mr. Mayor!”

With that, he took his leave. Peony set his backpack down by the door and headed to the dining room to grab the key before he forgot and locked himself out. To his surprise, aside from the expected key, sat two large gift baskets, one filled with all manner of fresh vegetables, and the other with a myriad of locally made sweets, breads, candles, soaps, and commemorative jumpers for each of the party. They certainly hadn't received this level of hospitality on their first visit, Peony thought, though it dawned on him that, last time, they hadn't expected Galar's Champion to be staying with them. He decided then that they should travel with Gloria more often.

[itspeeko]

Today I learned that a lot of Gym Leaders and Elite Four members have lore that I never knew about

Specifically I looked up the Dark-type ones for Terry-related reasons

So first off Grimsley (Elite Four member of Unova) was raised in a previously wealthy family with a good name which had fallen into squalor by the time he was born (which reminds me a bit of the Tethras and Montilyet families from Dragon Age). The situation was apparently so dire that Grimsley even as a child felt the pressure and was motivated to gamble on Pokemon battles. This is what drew him to the Dark type, as the Dark type’s strategies are as close as he can come to cheating. His habits took a toll on him and he became addicted to gambling. His lines reveal that although he is aware of the “good and bad ways” to win or lose, he has difficulty controlling and gauging his own emotional response. He later showed up in Alola as an ex-Elite Four member, having obtained white streaks in his hair and bags under his eyes, as well as a visibly worse reaction to losing battles; obviously the implication here is that he was sent to Alola to focus on his mental health. SO THAT’S A LOT OF CANON BAGGAGE FOR A POKEMON CHARACTER?

Johto Elite Four member Karen, in contrast, encourages challengers to focus on the Pokemon they like, rather than the Pokemon they think are strong. She mentions that although she likes that Dark types are powerful, power isn’t everything.

And then there is Elite Four member Sidney from Hoenn (boy there is a lot of Elite Four members?) who is shown to be pretty friendly but somewhat shallow? He boasts about his bling and connections, and the reason he has an Absol is that 1. it beat his whole party single-handedly and 2. he likes being around and escaping disasters because it gives him an adrenaline rush? This guy is kinda a himbo idk. One of Terry’s defining moments of his career life is getting to meet with Sharpedo up close and by pure luck this dude definitely seems like the type of guy who would keep a whole bunch of Sharpedo to just like swim with. He probably hosts Sharpedo Week in fact

Surprisingly there isn’t much I didn’t already know about concerning Marnie and Piers... They both seemed like fleshed out characters, but if there’s more lore I haven’t seen it. They don’t really discuss the Dark type much in-game, they’re mostly concerned about Gigantamaxing. A little disappointing

And lastly, Nanu, Island Kahuna, who on impulse I liked; but who turned out to be a cop so then I didn’t like him; but then he turned out to have been demoted from International Police to a chief on an island that doesn’t even have a force, and he has an actual moral compass so I maybe like him again?? He lets Team Skull do what they want so long as they stay in Po Town and he objected to the plan of using human bait to draw out Ultra Beasts, so that’s baseline decency. Also called the IP “terrible,” and Looker wasn’t very friendly towards him. (On the other hand, he constantly talks about how he slacks off, much like Sans Undertale, but that isn’t a fantastic look when you are a cop. Nothing is really a fantastic look when you are a cop tho. Is there a reason he can’t quit?? He is constantly complaining...) But whatver, here’s his take on Dark type Pokemon: “You know the Pokémon Honchkrow and Krookodile? They've got some scary looking mugs, but you wouldn't think so if you saw them smile. You can never know anything about a person or a Pokémon just from a glance. When you have a chance, take a good look at those around you.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords

Summary: In order to keep Ravka intact, general Kirgan, the Darkling, must marry. Needless to say, he’s not happy about it, but neither is his bride.

Warnings: indicating smut, slight angst

============================

Standing at the altar, wearing his black kefta, the Darkling grinds his teeth at the closed door at the end of it.

Any moment now, the door will open and his bride will appear as an angel in white. Except, the Darkling preferred to think of her as devil incarnate.

Although her beauty is without faults, her mind is sharp and her tongue can be sweeter than honey, Y/N Y/L/N is everything the Darkling hates.

She's entitled, bratty, arguably manipulative and downright cruel. She's all that and more, at least to him. But the one thing he cannot forgive her for is her lineage. As a daughter of a man he sought to destroy, Y/N became general Zlatan’s bargaining chip.

“You must marry her and she must be included in all decisions concerning Ravka on my behalf, or we will declare independence.”

General Zlatan gave the emperor no room to argue on the matter, forcing the marriage onto them. As the emperor had no male descendants to marry off, the next in line was general Kirigan. And while the Darkling fought the emperor on this instance, he was given no choice – either marry Zlatan’s daughter or someone else will be ascending as a leader of the Second army.

"Is it too late to run?" Ivan turns to Kirigan and Fedyor with a breathless chuckle, earning a dirty look from the official Y/N insisted marries them. She caved on the Palace setting, but no one could bend her will on who it is that seals their marriage contract.

"You promised." Fedyor reminds him and Kirigan closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Maybe some promises are best broken. She'll be the death of Ravka." Licking his lips, the Darkling glances at the door as a faint noise is heard on the other side of the door.

‘Of me’, he thinks to himself, ‘She’ll be the death of me.’

“She is Zlatan’s daughter with no special powers”, Ivan scoffs, “What could she possibly do?”

"I'll make her just as unhappy as I am now. She's never going to love me and I most certainly will never love her," the Darkling huffs, straightening his back as his eyes narrow at the door. “Unhappy women are always dangerous.” He pauses, pursing his lips, “Even if they are just human.”

"You said this is a business deal, so think of it as such." Ivan raises an eyebrow, wondering why is love even on Kirigan’s mind. In all his time serving his general, Ivan never heard the word pass his lips before now.

"I will”, the Darkling rolls his tongue, focusing on Ivan and Fedyor again. "Tell me you’d fight with me to preserve Ravka if I walk away."

"Do whatever you want, but you better be fast because your bride is coming", Fedyor nods toward the grand opening of the grandiose door, revealing a vision in white and the veil covering her face.

"Fuck", the Darkling mutters under his breath, his heart jumping at the sight.

He watched her walk, his nerves gnawing away at him and all he could think about is why his heart is beating so fast. Why would he be nervous? She should be the one drowning in nerves instead of walking so confidently. Why is she not afraid of him?

Folding his shaky hands behind his back, the Darkling could have sworn every step she took closer made his heart drop further in his chest. It was only a matter of time before he had nothing left but to accept his destiny and take an ordinary woman such as Y/N as his bride. Oddly enough, he found comfort in her mortality. She would die eventually and he’ll be free of her. If she angers him or her father stirs up trouble, he’d make sure he’ll be free much sooner.

Finally in front of him, Y/N holds her breath as the Darkling reluctantly pulls the veil up, revealing her face.

When she first met him, it was on a field of scattered, mangled bodies. He looked at the sky like a man would look at a withered flower in which he no longer sees the beauty he plucked it for, thus destroying it.

And when he looked at her, Y/N forgot to breathe.

There are no traces of doubt, no evidence this isn't the happiest day of her life. If anything, the Darkling is in awe of her and her ability to maintain composure without showing the slightest inkling of her disdain for him. He’s looking for a weakness, studying her in order to find something, anything he could use to make her submit to him, but she’s not flinching. Her stare is unyielding, fierce, and she is unbowed, like a rose in the eye of a hurricane.

"You should have worn the white kefta. Black is for funerals", she notes, her voice low and cold and the Darkling can't help but scoff.

“Black is my color. Besides”, he leans in, pressing his lips against her cheek before whispering, "It is a funeral."

While the crowd whispered and awed over the little exchange, Y/N's lips twitched into a brief smile. Reaching out for his hand, she tilts her head to her left, hiding her face with the veil as she scowls at him.

The ceremony begins, but neither the Darkling nor Y/N can truly focus on a single word said. Y/N is busy wondering what she could do best to make his life hell. This isn’t exactly what she had in mind for her future either and being exchanged like a broodmare to delay a war is unforgivable. She couldn’t forgive her father for giving her over to a known monster, nor could she forgive her seconds-to-be husband.

He is cruel, manipulative, a beast hidden under a handsome built and he may be appealing to the eye, but she can feel he’s rotten inside.

The Darkling’s eyes are fixed on her, examining every single inch of her rather small sized body. Though her curves are undeniable, her height would leave him with a craned neck and back pain in the future. Inhaling sharply, he tried to understand why his thoughts of all the things he hates about her include ripping that wedding dress straight off her. She looks far too appealing in a dress for him to ignore and it sparks a fire to further fuel the flames of hate he’s tended to.

Either way, quicker than imagined, the Darkling found himself saying "I do", forcing a smile that matched the one she displayed. Unlike his cold smile that didn't reach his eyes, Y/N was capable of making her smile believable, enough for him to envy her acting skills.

"You may kiss the bride."

Licking his lips, Kirigan's eyes flicker to Y/N's lips. He never kissed her before, the human who perfectly portrayed an ice queen. It would be a lie if he said kissing her never crossed his mind, but it didn't feel like he'd willingly do so even if he had a chance. He didn’t desire her at all. He refused to allow himself as much.

Y/N glanced at the crowd, seeing their little whispers about how long Kirigan is taking and how they pity her for marrying someone like him – a dark shadow, an abomination even in their world.

She felt a shuddered breath pass her lips as Kirigan leaned into her, torturously slow and the worst part? He smells good, intoxicating kind of good. And whether she liked it or not, her heart fluttered as his lips grazed hers and his hand cupped her cheek.

The Darkling's heart quivered, his mind overflowing with frustration. He couldn't comply and kiss her wholeheartedly, but he found himself wanting to turn her over, to have his way with her.

She's infuriating, unlawfully cocky and unjustly stunning. No wonder hell is where most mankind would go considering the beauty of its tempting demons that poise as naïve angels.

Snapping out of the daze, she pulls back first, whispering against his lips. "Hope you enjoyed it, because it will be the last time you’ll ever taste my lips in your lifetime."

Blinking slow, the Darkling smirked, genuinely entertained. "We will see about that", and he took her words as a personal challenge. 

He would melt the ice queen and have her on her knees, begging for his love before the year is done. He will demean Zlatan by turning his own daughter against him and he will do so with pleasure.

Part two

[yanderenightmare]

could we get the bnha yanderes with a darling that’s actually really fond of their dark side and revels in the attention

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: anxiety, arson, drugs, guilt, delusions, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, mind control, DUBCON, yandere-themes

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He had planned to be sweet, similar to his scent of caramel as opposed to what destruction he was capable of. He had planned to be patient, to tolerate whatever screams and cries his darling might have reacted with, but what he was met with wasn’t horror, but… something strangely akin to what he would call gratitude or even excitement or even lovesickness. He thinks she surprised herself more than she surprised him with how easy she folded, but once he got over the shock and not to mention the suspicion her compliant nature beckoned from him, he was only motivated to go harder, to be rougher, to be as intense as he had wished but had held back. She likes the attention, despite it being overwhelming and scary and brutal at times, she still likes it, maybe even because of it. Once he got over the fear of her acceptance crushing under the full weight of his obsession, he became cocky about it. She’s his little freak and he has the confidence and the reassurance to tease her for it now, thoroughly amused with how her eyes cross paths and her brows knit together, drooling and mewling with his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing her neck with her tight little pussy clenching around his shaft as he drives into her. He exploits it, finding such great amusement and entertainment in hearing her pray for him to go harder and faster, even as she begins to cry, limbs shaking as she continues to beg for him, eyes like opium, wide and void with pooling darkness.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Dabi had expectations. Expecting his little darling to not fully be at peace with his self-proclaimed ownership of her, he had decided to not pay her objections any mind. He decided that the hard way was the best way from the very start. But… his darling didn’t meet him with the type of reluctance he had expected. Sure, she was crying, but when he reached out his hand she didn’t bite like the sort of animal he’d expected, but rather, reached out ever so timidly and eyes so wide and glossy and sparkly and in search for some comfort. He couldn’t be harsh when she was being so sweet, he couldn’t be anything but appreciative when she curled up on his lap like such a soft little thing, hands gripping onto his shirt, sobs that seemed too tame for him to scold her, besides… it felt… nice. It felt nice to be the source of comfort as opposed to the factor of discomfort. It felt like absolution. He used to think he’d find clinginess annoying, but his little darling is clingy in all the right ways. Latching onto him when she’s crying, after a bad dream, all throughout the night, even when he’s the source to her pain, when he makes her jump up and down on his cock, her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers intertwining in his raven locks, legs around his torso, running to hug and welcome him home, kissing him, telling him how she missed him, how much she loves him, how much she needs him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

He’s so confused. He kidnapped her. Kidnapped her. Took her, abducted her, stole her, forced her away from a life with little regard to her feelings on the whole ordeal, subjugated her to a tiny room with more flying specs of dust than light allowed to shine through the windows. It’s not even like he’s a handsome kidnapper either. Is she insane? Why is she looking at him like that? Why isn’t she afraid, why isn’t she swatting his hands away when he reaches to touch her? Why is she touching him? How can she touch his wrinkles, his scars, his cracking breaking skin? How can she touch his hands, his scarred deadly bloodied hands? And what is that look on her face? If he didn’t know any better he’d call it fascination, curiosity perhaps… adoration? No. No, no, no, no way. No way she’s simply just… accepting… enjoying… just as simple as that. To be honest, he’s feeling slightly freaked out, alarmed, concerned. This isn’t natural. This isn’t healthy. She should at least cry, if only just a little bit. But no. No, her fingers playing curiously with his hair when he’s playing videogames. At least she doesn’t talk to him like they’re chummy old pals, then he’d really feel the thin hairs at the back of his neck rise. But, when he touches her milky skin with his sandpaper-fingertips she doesn’t squirm, and when he pushes those same fingers knuckle deep inside her she doesn’t tell him to stop. He finds himself quickly enjoying testing the boundaries of his little darling, boundaries he’s yet to have found proof of.

SHINSO HITOSHI

He was expecting for there to be some debate surrounding his ownership of her, he was preparing to teach his little pet a thing or two about who was boss early on, but… she seemed to slip right into her role so naturally. Instead of him teasing her, she’s teasing him, mocking him, making him feel as though he has no control even as he stares into those wide milky orbs who no longer have the ability of mobility, yet still has the power to inch her lips into that eerie playful catlike grin, as though she’s excited, as though spiked with untamed thrill. She’ll talk to him as though there’s no danger, as though he won’t have her mind in his clutches by the end of it, almost as if she’s counting on it, waiting for it, coaxing him with words of her own. They’ll play like cat and mouse, one always either tempting or chasing the other. She’ll even laugh, eyes bright and vivid and spiked and twirling as she lets him catch her time and time again, in a way that makes him believe he’s the one that’s been captured. He’s surprised, to say the least, surprised because his little darling is in fact a little devil, a little baby-faced angel-eyed demon, who enjoys how the darkness feels against her skin, who loves how his inky-fingers feel when tampering with her mind, and has darkness of her own to drown him with too.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

He was preparing for a wild beast, but was happy to find his little darling settling in as though she understood that in the comfort of his house is where she belonged. Calling it a kidnapping became weird and sounded foreign when referring to their arrangement, especially when he came home to his darling in her apron, cooking, cleaning or sleeping so soundly on his couch you’d think she’d done so her whole life. She doesn’t flinch when he touches her, she rather leans in to greet the touch, her eyes heavy-lidded and joined with his gaze. And when he comes home, some days all broken and bruised and bloodied and smoke-ridden, his feathers ragged and plucked, she’ll fuss. Fuss and pamper and coo and take such good care of him, softly and sweetly patching him up, messaging wings, give his torn lip a kiss, stroke a careful hand through his locks. She’ll be so perfect, like an angel, a living breathing real-life angel. Or a guardian, something he’s always wanting. Someone to make him feel safe and loved and protected, despite him being the hero and his darling being the victim to his villainy.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Here he was thinking she couldn’t possibly be any more of an adorable little darling than what she already was. He’s not used to being wrong about his calculations, he’s not used to liking finding faults in his calculations, but he has to admit he was pleasantly surprised with how his darling accepted his feelings easier than what he had expected. He had assumed it to be a lengthy and gradual and careful process, he was prepared to take his time, be patient, be supportive, but… his darling portrayed little of what anxiety symptoms he had imagined: panic-attacks, quaking, crying, screaming. She seemed more honored than anything. Amazed to have caught the eye of the Midoriya Izuku, the number 1. Hero of not just Japan, but arguably the whole world. She felt proud, bashful to be getting the attention, but thriving in it despite herself believing it was misplaced. Wanting to return Izuku’s worship, cherish, awe with appreciation of her own at every given turn. She would still yelp when he picked her up to carry her about, but who wouldn’t when his arms are the sizes of pillars. Though, the sound of surprise would always be followed by the sound of laughter, school-girl giggles that felt like the fluttering of butterflies against his chest. Also, when she slept on top of him. With one of his hands placed on the dome of her ass and the other holding a book up for him to read, the small feel of her drumming pitter patter heartbeats against his ribcage, so cute and comfortable and safe.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL 

He was expecting a fight, he was expecting annoying migraine-evoking screams, he was expecting thrashing, causing waves to fall onto the bathroom tiles when she was in the bathtub. He was expecting the worst, because that’s what good business men do: expect the worst, prepare for the worst, and find refuge in the fact that it was far from what hell they had imagined. But… it’s rare to be met with the exact opposition of what you had predicted, which was what had happened. There was no war, there was no fight, there was no riot, there wasn’t even the hint of resistance. There were still small tremors of fear though, yet far less than what he had foreseen. The type of fear you find when bringing home a new pet, more careful hesitant curiosity than actual fear, as though trying to find comfort in your surroundings, as though trying to settle in. He looks like a dangerous man, yet… her eyes aren’t terror-wide but big with anticipation, with a strange form of thrill. And though her actions remained feather-light she was still the first one to reach out, she was still the one to ask to witness the demolition and recreation of his quirk, she was still the one that chose to tie the knot to his tie in the morning. Though he was the one to have found and taken her, she was the pioneer.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Not much can change what Shoto has planned for his darling’s future. Whether she enjoys it or hates it, it will be accepted. What he plans to do with her, what soft-tinted or red-violent passions he plans on bestowing upon her, the fact that she likes it from the start hardly matters when through time she was going to learn to enjoy it anyway. He was always going to lick up her skin with his flames or make her skin whisper upon the threat of being frozen, until she’s a sweat-slicked feverish mess in his lap, and he was always going to take good soft care of her afterwards. But, he must admit, he’s surprised to find that the aftercare is such a sweet pleasure, seemingly rivaling what blissed-out state he can reach when playing with his little darling. He knew he would enjoy it, but… he could never have imagined the motherly touch his darling gifts him with, what tender smiles and heavenly laughs and the way she tangles herself with him, limbs an unruly yet comfortable knot. What more, when she asks to see his quirks, wants him to make frost-flowers on the windows or in the shower on the glass-walls, when she holds his hands as he creates little lanterns of dancing tendrils and wisps, ones she can tickle with her fingertips as they twirl in his palm. The way her eyes light up with that childlike-wonder he never seemed to possess when he was young, makes him feel a different type of warm far from burning.

TIP-JAR

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

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AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

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[tgrailwar-zero]

Can we turn on the tv? Maybe we can see some recap highlights from the other 3 Flaming Bout Battles yesterday!

If I remember correctly, there was Moby Dick vs Waterside Revenant, Chajin vs Flesh-Twister, and Thunderer vs Wandering Blade.

The LITTLE GUY had found the remote and turned the television on. At the moment, the channel he found was just presenting clips from prior battles.

You saw various highlights. Obviously MUSASHI versus PRETENDER, though most of the highlights were from the back half of the battle… considering that she was asleep for a good chunk of the first half.

Regarding 'Chajin' and the 'Flesh-Twister'... It seemed like the 'Flesh Twister' was a rather terrifyingly large giant that lumbered against the 'Chajin', or more properly, RIKYU. RIKYU's was odd. Her form didn't seem to appear fully on the television screen, being more of a ghostly haze that swirled with black mist that occasionally lashed out towards the monster, each blow striking true.

Her strikes were simply faster and her ability was difficult to discern that counterattacking seemed like a pipe dream. So, she finished the fight by manifesting a pair of dark hands manifested from the gloom that surrounded her and gripped the 'Flesh Twister' by the neck, squeezing tighter and tighter before the giant dropped to the ground. There was an unsettling serenity to her motions as she effortlessly took down the beast, and didn't even celebrate her victory, simply bowing.

You even saw the fight between RULER and THRUD. As GIUSEPPE said, THRUD was an incredibly fast and powerful opponent, and each spear-thrust seemed match-ending. The arena had been a city, one from closer to GIUSEPPE's era than THRUD's, and the RULER had swiftly ducked away and retreated as soon as possible. The rest of the fight had progressed like a game of cat and mouse, with THRUD being forced to hunt down her opponent and burn her energy.

There were a few moments where she would suddenly strike at an object as if seeing her opponent, but would only be aiming at an object, or a door, or some other part of the scenery- and her expression would shift from confusion to annoyance to frustration, before suddenly- abruptly- RULER leapt from the shadows and struck the valkyrie from behind, addling her. At that point, it became a martial battle, and one where he was clearly less tired and was heavily benefiting from the sneak attack.

The Moby Dick fight was barely even a 'fight'. The Waterside Revenant, a haunted-looking man holding an oar, stood on the edge of a ship. You watched as he whipped the oar forward, the waves beginning to crash under his command… a mighty deluge beginning to form. Then, a massive shadow underneath the water. A gargantuan form swelling upwards, capsizing the ship and creating massive waves. Then, the 'Revenant' laying on a piece of driftwood, having to be hauled out as quickly as possible as the massive shadow approached again.

[ichayalovesyou]

TOS Crew-Phobias

Been thinking about And The Children Shall Lead and how the kids play on everyone’s inner Beast, and trying to decipher what fears each crew member may have based on what the children made them do and see.

The asterisk means it’s either an approximation because their fear is too specific, or if they had this fear they’ve since developed means of coping

James Kirk: Autophobia

Autophobia: Fear of being alone

I feel like this one’s pretty obvious. People tend to make the argument that the Enterprise (the ship itself) is Kirk’s overpowering true love, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s more the friends and the life that he’s made within The Enterprise that he’s terrified of losing. Some of the places we see Jim at his most upset and afraid in the series are when he feels he’s been abandoned or is forcibly (and seemingly permanently) separated from the crew. How visibly upset he is on the empty Enterprise in This Side of Paradise and The Mark of Gideon, lashing out at Spock when the crew reluctantly relieves him of duty in The Deadly Years, and his deep resentment toward Deela when she kidnaps him in Wink of An Eye. This is also further reinforced by his actions in Star Trek: The Motion Picture & The Search for Spock. He’s also one of the two characters (the other being Sulu) where his fear counts as an actual phobia and not a hypothetical phobia, ingrained personality trait, or symptom of Neurodivergence.

S’chn T’gai Spock: *OCD (fear of losing control)

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Obsessive thoughts that lead to repetitive actions.

If anything what we might perceive as OCD-like (or at least Neurodivergent) behavior may be typical of the Vulcan condition. I don’t think Spock has OCD, or at least I don’t know enough about it to say for sure, but what came up whenever I looked up “fear of hurting others/losing control” it came up without fail. While we don’t actually get to see whatever is making Spock’s hand tremble, momentarily defy orders and act as though everything is fine. I think we can surmise that his Beast convinced him that following the order would somehow hurt Jim or that he would be possessed/controlled to do so. Operation: Annihilate, Amok Time, Plato’s Stepchildren and essentially Spock��s whole character arc prove this to be true.

Bones: *Hyper-Empathy/Thanatophobia

Thanatophobia: Fear of death, dying, watching others die and/or others watching you die

There is a headcanon that Dr. McCoy is autistic with the hyper-empathy symptom, meaning he has a really hard time watching others suffer. This may have been the reason he became a doctor in the first place, or became worse/was triggered by his father’s death. While not technically a phobia and we don’t see Bones face his Beast in ATCSL. Evidence from other episodes supports this, Miri, Metamorphosis, Plato’s Stepchildren, The Empath, and For The World is Hollow & I Have Touched The Sky all heavily support this.

Scotty-Astrophobia

Astrophobia: Fear of getting lost or dying in space

Seems like kind of a ridiculous fear for someone who builds, maintains, and lives starships to have right? Maybe, but if that is something he’s deeply afraid of, it would make his surpassing ability to make certain the ship doesn’t explode despite impossible odds make plenty of sense. I don’t think it’s space itself that freaks Scotty out, it’s the idea of being stuck out there and/or suffering the cold and grizzly death that is getting sucked out into space does. So he does everything in his power to ensure that never happens. Out of all the supporting characters, the events of the episode that sparked this post aside, Scotty seems to have the best handle on his fear, the most condemning evidence that he’s got Astrophobia occurs later in season 3. He freezes up in the Jeffrey’s Tube during delicate work in That Which Survives. As well as telling his love interest that being bone deep afraid that you’re going to die in the cold vacuum of space is a perfectly normal thing to constantly think about in Lights of Zetar. Still, he is uncommonly steely-eyed and level headed whenever he has the con, even in the face of his fear. I used to theorize that maybe he was afraid of failure/imperfection, but Scotty’s Jerry-Rigs and Duct-tape way of doing things doesn’t lend itself to that idea. What stuck out to me was his comment “we’ll all be lost, forever lost!” in And The Children Shall Lead that made me think Astrophobia would be a good fit.

Nyota Uhura-Nosophobia

Nosophobia: Fear of contracting deadly disease

Uhura’s fear seems to be dying a slow and painful death by disease, one where she is irrevocably physically/mentally altered by her suffering. There’s evidence for this when she sees the appeal of immortality in I, Mudd, and that she’s scared she’ll end up like Chekov in The Tholian Web. Nosophobia is not hypochondria (convincing yourself that you have a disease/compulsively self-diagnosing) or germaphobia (extreme fear of germs and sickness). Nosophobia is more long term, an irrational fear of things like cancer and Alzheimer’s and other such conditions as well as potentially deadly viruses. It seems to me that if Uhura were to die she’d rather it be quick and painless rather than endure that sort of battle.

Hikaru Sulu-Cleithrophobia

Cleithrophobia: Fear of being trapped

Again, someone I thought maybe was afraid of failure (afraid of failing by destroying the ship with the swords in ATCSL) before I picked up on a very interesting pattern I noticed from The Corbomite Maneuver. Sulu gets really fatalistic and/or agitated when it seems like he’s trapped with no way out. He hyper fixates on the countdown when their trapped and condemned to destruction by Balok in The Corbomite Maneuver, he makes dark jokes while trapped and freezing to death on the planet from The Enemy Within. He seizes up instead of fleeing or fighting the Law Givers in Return if The Archons, and even panics a little when they’re trapped by the giant hand in Who Mourns For Adonais (and usually Sulu is insanely chill under pressure). Cleithrophobia gets confused with Claustrophobia often, but Celthrophobia has much more emphasis on the trapped and no way out elements than just enclosed spaces. So him being terrified by being unable to move because it’s surrounded by swords actually makes a lot of sense! Honestly, I find it uniquely fitting that a flyboy with an enthusiasm for growing things would be agitated by places that do not allow growth or flight.

Pavel Chekov-Proditophobia (in reverse)

Proditophobia: Fear of betrayal

Proditophobia is the fear of being betrayed, but there is more evidence to suggest that Pavel is waaaaay more terrified of betraying or being disloyal rather than being the victim of that action. There’s certainly evidence for it in both The Trouble with Tribbles and Day of The Dove, where he is driven to act out violently on the behalf of those he feels deep loyalty towards, in his head, allowing someone else’s reputation to be trashed counts as disloyalty. And The Children Shall Lead also shows us, at least at this point in Chekov’s character development, he feels more loyalty to Starfleet than the Enterprise crew (something that certainly changes/evolves by the time the movies roll around). The case might even have been that he was all bark and no bite and really wasn’t actually going to kill his Captain or mentor, he was just hoping they’d believe him so that they’d go peacefully and he wouldn’t have to worry about betraying Starfleet at all. I used to think maybe he feared punishment or retribution, but he’d never break any rules if that were the case, and if I know anything about this feral gremlin of an Ensign, he’ll do that in a split second if someone questions his loyalty.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Crimson Gods

Pairing: vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts, allusion to breeding.

Words: 2362.

Summary: Living in the world where most lands are governed by the Noble, ancient vampires who shed human blood simply for their own amusement, you try leading a quiet and secluded life along with your mother. Sadly, you aren’t prepared when a vampire comes to your town.

P.S. When I was younger, I really, really loved Vampire Hunter D. I watched the movie again yesterday, and here’s the result ahahah. 

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It was way past midnight, but you couldn't force yourself to sleep, tossing and turning in your comfy bed while thinking of your travel tomorrow. You were supposed to leave the town for the first time in years to visit your grandmother who lived in the Northern Frontier Sector, and now you dreamt of how you were going to embrace her, kiss her cheeks despite her scolding you for not behaving properly in public. You hadn't seen her in 7 years. After the incident, you had never even once left the town, and your grandmother could hardly travel so far due to her age. Of course, you kept exchanging letters, but how could a cold letter, though written with great respect, replace a live communication?

While you kept wondering how your encounter would go, all of a sudden it felt cold under your cozy cotton blanket, and you reluctantly got up to take a huge comforter out of your heavy wooden chest. Why was it freezing tonight even with the windows closed? You were just in the middle of September. To be honest, you hardly remembered the last time the weather was so bad as you wrapped a comforter around your trembling shoulders, thinking whether you have to take your winter nightgown instead of light muslin one you were wearing now.

Throwing a glance at your window, you saw the frosted panes and furrowed your brows, refusing to believe it. Dear Lord, you lived in the Western Frontier Sector, not far to the North! Was it really going to snow out of nowhere tonight? As you moved closer to look at an empty street, you realized that a huge cross on top of a building on the other side started crumpling with a disgusting sound as if it were made of paper, not pure silver to protect citizens from the creatures of the night. Several crosses on the buildings down the street had been destroyed, too. Quickly, you looked down only to find the flower beds withering within seconds despite your beautiful roses blooming just a couple of hours ago. Now they all turned black.

You stilled on the spot, unable to believe your eyes and covering your ears from that horrifying noise. You had only seen something like that once, and it was the time when most villagers had already been dead, turned into beasts without a soul who craved for blood as much as their masters did. That night you had lost your beloved father as you fled your house in a rush, just a little child back then, and, once you arrived in the town, had never even once left your new home.

The crumpled crosses, dead flowers and a sudden temperature drop could mean only one thing: a vampire had come to the town. It wasn't some upyr, oh no, it was one of the Nobles, maybe even an Elder if you were unlucky.

Dear Lord, what a Noble wanted in a peaceful town like this? There were neither treasures nor mechanisms of the ancient, nothing that could potentially interest a Noble. Except that they might be simply eager to shed human blood for their own amusement...

Before you screamed at the top of your voice to wake up everyone around, you heard the sound of a large mirror in your room breaking, and then felt somebody's strong grip on your throat despite no one being in front of you. The world turned black before you uttered a single word.

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Moving a heavy crimson curtain a bit so you could look out the window, you gasped, watching the corn fields far beneath looking like neat pieces of cloth. The view was incredible! You had never seen anything like this before, though you certainly didn't remember travelling in such fine carriage ever before either. It was truly stunning, made of black steel, shining in the sunlight as if it only been made yesterday. Steven laughed when you said it out loud, explaining that this carriage had been more than a century old. Apparently, the Nobility's carriages were miraculous since you couldn't find even a single scratch on the surface.

"Be careful, sweetheart." The man behind your back said, gently bringing you closer to him and further from the window, curtain falling back and hiding the two of you from the outside world. "Night does not fall yet."

"Forgive me my curiosity. I have never seen anything as magnificent." You smiled sheepishly at the handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a long black cape with red lining.

He let out a low chuckle, taking your hand and kissing it briefly while you forgot how to breathe for a second, deeply embarrassing by such outpouring display of affection. You lead a rather quiet secluded life in the town, pretty much never being around men of your age: your mother was going to choose a respectable husband for you herself, so you never worried about it before. Now, however, you felt ashamed for being so close to a man despite loving him dearly. Oh, what would your mother say if she saw you now? Wouldn't she be worried? Would she approve of your marriage to a No-

You blinked as you stared at the handsome man's pale face, feeling all your worries fading away. As long as you stayed with the love of your life, nothing else mattered, right?

"If that is what you wish, we will travel by air a lot more right after I present you at Western Frontier Court, sweetheart." His deep, silky voice made you let out a nervous chuckle as you felt your cheeks growing hot. "My, aren't you adorable?"

"Please, Steven, stop it!" You furrowed your brows as he grinned at you, baring his sharp fangs you paid no attention to. "I cannot believe I am getting married to you so soon. It feels... strange. A little unsettling."

"And why is that?" There was some wariness to his voice.

"It's just... I have never imagined myself being married to anyone. Surely, I thought of having a family at some point, but it was so distant. I have never even pictured myself close to a man, let alone a High Lord like you." You admitted honestly, biting your lower lip and averting his gaze. "You have never been married before, too, have you? Aren't you frightened even the slightest bit?"

"A little." He answered too soon, yet you disregarded it as well. "But I have no doubts we will make a good couple, sweetheart. I will cherish you like no other man ever would."

Embarrassed to the point your face was on fire, you decided to drop it, not knowing how a nobleman like Steven Grant Rogers could have an audacity to say such things. He was completely shameless! You hoped he was going to be more reserved while presenting you at court; you pictured your grandmother fainting if she heard him speaking like now.

What was Western Frontier Court like? You had never been there, not than any human ever could: as far as you knew, not even all vampires could serve the Nobility living in the high castle surrounded by mountains. You heard its peaks were covered with snow all year round.

"Have the king ever visited your castle?" You suddenly asked, back to your curious self.

Steven's face became even paler. "He did on several occasions, but it was a long time ago way before I was even born. I have only seen him once, and I do not think I will ever forget this encounter."

"Oh, is he as frightening as the legends say?"

"You cannot describe it with words, sweetheart. But do not be worried, he had been asleep for more than a thousand years now, and he surely won't wake up just to attend some Noble's marriage." A faint smile twisted Steven's lips as he drop a soft kiss to your forehead. "Actually, please do not refer to him as a king. The Nobles call him the Great One."

"Oh, I see. Thank you." Nodding, you turned your face back to the window covered by a crimson curtain, biting your lip again. "Can I watch the sunset a little? I won't be long, I promise."

"As you wish, sweetheart. Please come back to me once you are done, it is going to be a long night."

Gesturing to the large black coffin laying in the middle of your carriage, the man brushed his cold soft lips against your cheek and got up from his seat, smiling at you watching him. You remembered being very unhappy once you learnt there was only one coffin: you had never thought you would lay close to your betrothed with your head on his chest before your marriage. How terribly bold it was of Steven to make you sleep so close to him! However, you were content he had never even once tried touching you inappropriately, always treating you with respect: he said he admired your purity and innocence while not many Noble women were bothered by them.

Once he got inside the coffin, you lifted the curtain again, squinted as rays of bright light pierced the darkness of the carriage. Oh, how incredibly beautiful was the sunset in front of you. You had seldom seen such lovely sight as this. Would you miss the sun once you reach the high castle? You surely would, you thought. Hopefully, your betrothed would keep his promise to travel with you, and when he fell asleep during the day, you would walk in daylight all by yourself.

As you kept staring at the bright sky coloured in orange and pink, all of a sudden you thought why did you have to live in the high castle with Steven while your home was far away from the white mountains, in a little human town where you spent the last several years. Oh, right, you were engaged to the Overseer of the Western Frontier Sector, the highest Noble guarding the lands where you were born and raised. He was a peerless warrior and a fierce leader, a vampire respected by other Nobles.

A vampire? Steven was a vampire? Why would you be engaged to a vampire, let alone the Noble? The Overseer of the lands you were born and raised, the one who had taken advantage of those poor humans living in the Western Frontier Sector and let other Nobles ravage your cities and villages, destroying everything on their way.

You were engaged to the vampire overlord, a ruthless, cold-blooded being who could wipe out every human in these lands if he desired so. No, he was not your betrothed, the man you promised to marry willingly. He was the one who kidnapped you from your own bed at night, casting some spell over you to make you forget who you were.

You clamped a hand around your mouth to stop the pathetic sounds you were making as you cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Dear Lord, why was the Overseeker doing it to you? What could he gain from this cruel game? Seemingly nothing, except for having some fun with a silly human girl. But that what the Nobles were doing once they got bored, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, you thought, happy you were given a chance to escape - even if it cost you your own life, it was still for the better.

"The Overseeker of the Southern Frontier Sector did, not that I expect you to know. Now, please, come back here. You had enough time watching the sunset."

You couldn't believe your eyes, watching him say it with such confidence. Was he willing to keep playing his twisted game even when his sweet facade fell?

"Why do you pretend as if my death matters to you? You will kill me soon anyway. Does it bring you so much pleasure to murder one more pathetic human?"

"I won't kill you, sweetheart. It has never been my intention."

There was something to his voice, some emotion you struggled to describe that made you feel bitter and regretful. Was it all truly going to end like this? You were so young, supposed to have your whole life ahead of you, now faced with a choice to either let a vampire consume you or jump out the carriage and fell to your death.

"Than what was it? I assume you have been living for more than thousands of years. Aren't you a little too old for playing these games still?" You chocked on a sob, barely containing your tears as you trembled in front of the Overseeker.

"I am not playing a game." He admitted tiredly, suddenly taking the black glove off his hand. "All I wish for is a loving wife who can bear my children and bring peace to my lands. I have been wandering human cities for a great while before I found you, strong enough to carry a dampiel after a few genetic enhancements. Please, do not struggle. I have not come to make you suffer eternal torment."

For a couple of seconds you stared at him with your mouth slightly open, unable to utter a single word. You had expected the vampire to say anything but this. Was it still a game? Now you hoped it was because even being drained till the last drop of blood was better than carrying a dampiel, a child of both vampire and human, feared and loathed greatly by both races. When you recovered, however, you quickly turned the door handle and pushed the door, willing to wait no longer.

But the door did not give to your pressure. To your horror, it stayed still as if it were a solid piece of steel.

Feeling the iron grip of the Overseeker's fingers on you shoulder, you yelped as he dragged you back to his coffin with force, closing the lid before you had a chance to escape. The next second his fingers were on your neck, suffocating you before you lost consciousness just like the night when Steven Grant Rogers kidnapped his human beloved.

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