#spectacles psychopaths

[j1998v]

MEDICPAULING / MEDAULING STIMBOARD !

m p m | m <3 p | p m p

[cuprohastes]

The humans said "We sent our very best to the stars."

Well we looked at what they sent: And thought, if that's their best, what are their worst like? They were scavengers and opportunists, fast talking con artists, barely restrained psychopaths with mayhem on their mind.

Honestly we were expecting the worst: That 'human' would be a curse word, that we'd have to root them out painfully and banish them back to their dirty heavy world.

But they cleaned up Antichor. They dredged the oceans, got the ecosystem back up, cleaned the mine lakes, remediated the sludge swamps, turned the hulks into gleaming ingots.

"We knew how. We had the experience." They said.

The humans started showing up in the weirdest places. Conflicts of all sorts... and they always had questions. "Why are you doing this? What if tehy did this. What if you did that?" And it was so odd - Within weeks of the Humans showing up, common ground would be found, or reasons to get along would appear.

"Well, we're used to it. We know how to deal with conflict." They said.

And the human liars, dressed in bedazzling clothes, singing and laughing... They spun lies! For entertainment! Of better worlds, and drama, of excitement, of adventure. Thay made such spectacles - Fire in the sky of a thousand colours - smoke and lasers, costumes and music, feats of synchronised movement the Civil Worlds had barely imagined could be performed by any being let lone these strange humans...

"We know how to have a good time!" They said.

When there was a nasty little war of expansion over on the Veran worlds, we thought we'd be barely in time to document the mass graves and the scraps of planetary genocide. Expansion wars are the worst of crimes but what can you do? The settlers who are squatting on the graves of the people who came before aren't usually the ones who ordered the invasion or carried it out. And there's always some justification that can be argued over for centuries: none of which brings the dead back.

We were horrified to find the Human fleet there. Finally proof that the Humans were the worst sort of mercenary.

But the ships had aid: Shelters and food. Medical personnel. And those that did fight did so under strange rules that allowed for surrenders and retreats in good faith.

The Verans talked of the Arnath Invasion fleet: Unstoppable, claiming thier worlds before they even landed, their leaders ranting and cursing those who lived there - But then the Humans arriving like heroes of legend, in flame clad dropships, spending their lives hard, making the Arnath throw incredible effort to get nowhere... Of the mighty Rangers, each one a hero. The Bulwark infantry who wouldn't yield a single step until the civilians had been evacuated. The Medical teams as caring as any, who'd stand and fight as hard as a soldier to protect their patients.

And even before we arrived, the Arnath were losing - Humans arriving on their world and asking "Why?". Arguing with the Archons with the skill of philosophers, litigating on behalf of the Verans with cunning arguments. The clowns and entertainers with unexpected savagery, showing the population their own "heroic" soldiers burning crops and firing on children, turning the population against thier bloody handed leaders.

The soldiers returning, not hailed as heroes, their crimes documented.

"We know these crimes. We won't stand for them." The humans said.

And we started to wonder... what else did they know?

What we know now is... you can always ask the Humans, because they always send their best.

[hrrystylesbookclub]

rereading tbosas and i KNOW that the capitol are demonic people who see the district citizens as less than human, but it’s SO clear with the reaction they have to arachne’s death (a capitol child killed by a girl brought to the capitol for the sole purpose to kill and be killed) vs orchestrating the slaughter of hundreds of innocent children. this privileged girl who died making a cruel joke was a hero, but the 230 children who have died, and the countless more who will die in the upcoming 64 years are necessary causalities for a war they didn’t fight, and on top of everything a pleasure to witness suffer.

and somehow of everybody it’s snow who sees the hypocrisy and how arachne’s death was her own fault for taunting a girl with nothing to lose for a cheap laugh, and yet her cruelty ends up being spun into heroism.

which arguable makes snow so much more demonic than the average capitol citizen- maybe even more evil than dr gaul, he sees the humanity of the district children and acknowledges that the capitol can be wrong, and yet he pushes forward anyways and continues to boost the credibility of the games for his own personal gain.

while dr gaul is cruel and probably clinically a psychopath the way she takes such pleasure in torturing animals and humans alike, snow doesn’t take the same kind of pleasure yet still consciously makes descion that will lead to more torment and spectacle of district suffering as long as it means he gets an ounce of respect from other capitol citizens

[acidicpenumbra]

Hello describers of things can we stop using medical terminology as descriptors please PLEASE

Sorry grievances time because I don’t like it there are alternatives and I will literally fucking list them for you. (Alternatives are given as alternative words to HOW PEOPLE WRONGLY USE the disorders in question, NOT AS ACCURATE DESCRIPTIONS of the disorders/symptoms. Thanx. A handful of the “alternatives” can still be used as derogatory but for fucks sake what the fuck ever stop using medical terms as insults)

(Edit: Here to clarify that my intention of the words below is not to say I see other mentally ill or disabled people like this, it’s specifically what I myself most commonly see people use the diagnostic words to mean. I believe it is also important to say that all terms below can be used in a derogatory/negative sense, and while I do see the issues potentially present with someone having terms just to be an asshole, I also want to say that it’s easier to phase out legitimate medical terminology from people’s vocabularies if you offer alternatives instead of just telling them not to say things. This was originally a rant post about my own frustrations regarding misuses of diagnostic terminology & misusing those terms as a means to insult/demean people, as it is offensive and conveys that their problems make them nothing more than an insult to you.)

Bipolar/Manic (alternative words/phrases that don’t refer to/demonize bipolar disorder: inconsistent, erratic, unpredictable, flighty, fickle, irregular, volatile, temperamental)

Delusional/Psychotic (alternative words/phrases that don’t refer specifically to/demonize psychosis: deranged, unstable, frantic, unhinged, frenzied)

Narcissist (alternative words/phrases that don’t refer to/demonize NPD: egotistical, entitled, full of oneself, vain, selfish, haughty, prideful, arrogant)

Psychopath/Sociopath (alternative words/phrases that don’t refer to/demonize ASPD: cold, uncaring, calculated, withdrawn)

Braindead (alternative words/phrases that don’t ridicule/make a spectacle out of actual brain death: absentminded, unwise, foolish, stupid, oblivious)

Antisocial (alternative words/phrases that don’t refer to ASPD: not social, asocial, introverted)

Obsessive Compulsive (alternative words/phrases that don’t devalue or otherwise stigmatize OCD: perfectionist, organized, tidy, neat, structured) 

Intrusive Thoughts (alternative words/phrases that don’t devalue or otherwise stigmatize legitimate intrusive thoughts: impulsive-, reckless-, spontaneous-, rash-, all ending in “thought/thoughts”)

This isn’t like a masterlist or anything it’s just a list I have on hand but like for real stop calling people sociopaths and psychos and shit this sucks balls Thanks

[generalsdiary]

Ratio and Aventurine are Sherlock and Watson coded but not in the way you think. Where one might assume Ratio would be Sherlock because of his intellect and analytic approach to life and the comments he makes, allow me to switch the perspective. Aventurine is an addict. To what? To feeling like shit and endorsing it, to having low self-esteem, to rejecting everyone in a way so no one gets too close and realizes how vulnerable he is, how much he yearns for love. He hid it away so well that he himself isn’t aware anymore of how much he wants it. to be loved, appreciated, and seen as more than just his luck- much like Ratio wants to be seen for more than just his achievements (poor man ain’t aware of how much he wants it either). Aventurine plays this perfect little role of a charismatic, lucky, fun-to-be-around persona. And that’s all it is, a play, a stage act.

let us switch gears back to Sherlock and John. Sherlock is also an addict, depending on at which point in the timeline, it is nicotine, drugs, crime cases, and similar. Here is where the point lies. Who is the one that pulls Sherlock out of that shit, out of the drug den, to hide his cigarettes away? John. We think Sherlock functions fine… before John, sure. After John, after Mary dies; oh no, Sherlock is not well without him. He can barely function, (yes, Mary’s death comes also in account here, but I won’t get sidetracked), living in a mess, doing drugs again, smoking, treating himself like shit and like he is worthless. So, who reminds Sherlock of his worth, of his genius, of the fact that he is human and not just a performance act that he puts on of deducting others? John. Both Sherlock and Aventurine throw these spectacles, these performances, these acts of a grand image, they play it and they dance to the song that others sing, moving to the melody that strangers decide; playing into whatever image that is painted of them no matter how untrue it is, ex. Aventurine will play a gambling alcoholic as much as you wish although he is more than that, and Sherlock will play the killer, the crazy ‘psychopath’ that kidnapped those kids and poisoned them, and he is also more than that. The difference is that Sherlock performs his knowledge and analytic skills, unlike Aventurine who keeps those cards close to his chest- that is how he survives, that is how he survived, his instinct, his trauma making him aware of a lot of things in his surroundings and aware of everyone else; carefully analyzing everyone to ensure his safety. Aventurine is better with his tongue, knowing what to say and when to say it, with much better people skills- that is what got him this far after all; so, he performs with flashy promises, with fun games- gambling with his own life because what is it worth to him anyway anymore? it circles back to his ‘the only survivor trauma’. Sherlock was ready to gamble his own life (S1E1) and who stopped him? John. Well, more like who saved him. The drug addiction that Sherlock has is a bit downplayed and it always ends fast within the episodes, but in its own way, it is also his gamble, him not valuing his life as much as he should.

yes, in a way Ratio and Aventurine can both be Sherlock. But it is not about Sherlock, as much as it is about Watson. And exactly what Watson brings to the table, to their relationship. In the case of Johnlock, Ratio is very much Watson. The one to tell Aventurine his life matters, the one to go along with his plan of deceiving Sunday- because Aventurine had this great plan, a huge gamble. sound familiar? The usual thing about Sherlock with big plans, ex. exposing Mary after getting shot, going to Magnussen’s to sell Mycroft’s PC. And who follows along even when they don’t agree? John.

to take into account Johnlock in the later episodes/at least the second season, when they are closer- we are brought up to speed on where Aventio are. it is a well known fact that Aventio knew each other before the first scene in the hotel of them interacting. So, they have a history, and their period of getting familiar is over. They know each other. we only see John openly criticizing Sherlock later in the series, be it insulting him or calling him out on his bullshit. The same thing happens with Aventio, where Ratio is the one to openly state his thoughts and criticize. While yes, one may argue that that is in Ratio’s character to behave as such, if we recall the scene between Ratio and the MC, he doesn’t behave that way if unprovoked. And Aventurine wasn’t provoking him, hence the conclusion. As much as Ratio seems like the black sheep here, the odd one out (which he is don’t get me wrong), in this perspective it is Aventurine who is that. and yes, Ratio walks on eggshells around him, apologizing for his harsh words. these two aren’t the perfect puzzle pieces for Johnlock, they do differ in the way they walk in public and who leads the way, and of course the point of this isn’t to make them overlap, but to draw parallels. And while writing this, truly a lot of opposing things came to mind, where both couples differ in such vast ways, all four being complex, rich characters- it pained me that Aventurine and Veritas would be compared to Sherlock and John only in the way that the “genius” matched the “genius”. smh.

Now the way Ratio is Sherlock is very simple, he doesn’t consider himself human- more like, doesn’t allow himself to be human, to feel, to connect, to breathe; when he is too much of a human – and the main reason he wasn’t accepted into the genius society. Poor Ratio, cursed because he wants to help and spread knowledge, what a mean fate struck upon the burned out gifted autistic asexual kid. To switch to Sherlock (also very autistic asexual coded), he is the most human out of them all, (I believe Eurus calls him that but I don’t recall the exact quote, also pointed out by Mrs. Hudson, John, and Mycroft), trying to be this analytical machine when his caring bleeds through his skin, evaporating through his pores, his love for John and so many others making him pull himself apart and do anything to protect them, ex. killing Magnussen, giving himself to Smith to a guaranteed death, faking his own suicide to protect Lestrade, John, and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock who, much like Ratio, wishes to be strict in his way of life, but cannot help wanting to explain and help others, and Ratio here differs by wanting to help everyone improve while Sherlock is willing to help only after the person has shown some amount of will, intelligence, proved themselves in some way (Irene Adler) or he so rarely happened to like them (ex. the kid that was at Mary’s wedding). Although, their shared way of calling others around them idiots is neat. I’d say this is their main connection and outside of it they are extremely different characters, which is why further comparison is pointless and shallow if you just want to compare characters because they are quote on quote the clever one.

Case in point, Aventurine is Sherlock because Ratio is John, and the one that saves him. The one that grounds him, and Aventurine NEEDS him. He needs Veritas. And Sherlock needs John. Therefore, Aventurine isn’t Sherlock without Ratio, much like there is no Sherlock (be it books, movies, or the show) without John. It is more about the relationships between them than the actual characters, and that, honestly, makes it even more beautiful.

[a-case-of-attachment]

So in Hell’s Greatest Dad, Lucifer tells Charlie that ‘with a punch of a pentagram’ and ‘usually I charge a sacrificial lamb’ when he’s offering to help her with the hotel and it got me thinking. Surely he must have had people sacrifice things in his honour or for favours before right? So….what if when something is sacrificed to him it ends up down in Hell?

It works like some sort of inter dimensional postal service. Lucifer will just be doing whatever then a portal will open up above him full of weird oil slick coloured clouds and lightening cracking across the endless sky with the boom of thunder not far behind. Out of the portal flies a cherub sized faun wearing a shirt, waistcoat and bow tie brandishing a clipboard that’s got the contract attached to it. All the important things will be on there like who’s doing the sacrificing, what they are sacrificing and what they want in exchange for it. Lucifer can either accept the sacrifice and sign the document, giving the sinner what they want or just straight up refuse to sign, decline the sacrifice and instead have it sent off to purgatory.

The problem is that Lucifer is so jaded that he doesn’t even bother reading the contracts any more. Sinners all want the same thing anyway, fame, fortune, revenge, so what’s the point even bothering to look these days? It’s not like he gets that many sacrifices in his name anymore and when he does it’s mostly just lambs and goats, the occasional dog or guinea pig and a cat that one time. He often just gives them to people as pets, it’s how Charlie had gotten razzle and dazzle.

But you know, people are deranged and over the centuries there have been a handful of human souls that come his way. Lucifer never accepts those, often get angry that people actually think killing someone would make him happy. Shocker, it doesn’t. All it did was prove that humans really are just the worst, a race of violent psychopaths hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. Yes Lucifer felt bad that these people had died and for nothing but he wasn’t about to reward some lowlife scumbag for taking another’s life so unfortunately that meant the sacrificed soul was purgatory bound. It wasn’t ideal but it also wasn’t permanent. At least there they would get the chance to move onto heaven eventually and not be stuck in this infernal nightmare for all of eternity.

So no, Lucifer didn’t do human sacrifices. Except, well, maybe he did.

It was an accident! Lucifer had been distracted, him and Charlie having a slight disagreement about the hotel and her expectations when it came to heaven. He hadn’t meant to upset her but she needed to realise that very few angels would be as open to the idea of redemption as he or Emily had been. It had been just about the time Lucifer had been urging Charlie to proceed with caution when it came to Heaven that a portal opens above him, a little faun flying out, clipboard already in hand and looking down at Lucifer through the spectacles perched on its nose.

Lucifer had attempted to ignore the blasted thing but it just flys around his head, brandishing the clip board and tapping impatiently at its wristwatch until Lucifer finally had enough and snatches the board off him, quickly flipping to the back and signing it before shoving it back at the startled faun. It just huffs at him, jotting something down before tearing off a sheet and giving it back to Lucifer only to disappear back into the portal. Lucifer doesn’t look at the contract he just signed, not caring what shallow and self serving thing the mortal had asked for. He goes back to Charlie, continuing to urge to not trust heaven so easily, all the while holding his arms out expectantly to catch whatever animal is going to drop out of the portal.

Lucifers expecting a lamb or a goat, heavyish for a human but nothing for him, except he gets something much larger and heavier, the shock of it knocking Lucifer to the ground. His first thought is some wretched mortal had sacrificed a cow or horse, either to lazy to find the usual offering or thinking the bigger the sacrifice the better the reward. Either way Lucifer is already regretting his choice to grant their wish, no clue what he is supposed to do with a cow other than send it down to a farm on wrath. Grumbling Lucifer sits up slightly, tugging at his hat that had been pushed down over his eyes but when he mages to pull his hat off Lucifer realises it’s so much worse than a cow.

There’s a person on his lap. A very human person sprawled across his lap and legs, their weight pinning him to the floor. You are dressed all in a white, the fabric almost see through though the top part was stained red with blood. Lucifer can’t look past your chest, the demonic sigils carved there still oozing blood. When he does manage to look up it’s to fined wide fear filled eyes staring back at him. The two of you just stare at one another, Lucifer feeling more and more panicked as the seconds drag on whilst you look close to passing out.

The whole room is silent and Lucifer just knows that they are all staring at the two of you, just as shocked as him and waiting for one of you to do something. Charlie is the first one to make a move, slowly creeping across the room to lay a hand on your shoulder. She probably meant to be a reassuring gesture but it’s a mistake nonetheless. It startled you, causing you to fall from Lucifers lap and giving you the first real view of the room and the rest of its inhabitants. Things go about as well as you would think.

You start screaming, Charlie panics as she tries to calm you down but only makes it worse, Angel dust offers you a drink that gets knocked out his hand and ends up all over Husk and Alastor offers to silence you permanently. Needless to say that none of what they are doing helps calm you down or make you feel any less afraid and all Lucifer does is sit there, staring down at the smear of red on his white pants and struggling to wrap his head around what in the hell is happening because he couldn’t have just accepted a human soul as payment. He’s never done that before, never, and yet there you are, cowering in the corner like a frightened animal, eyes franticly darting around as you look for some form of escape.

It’s that look of pure terror that gets Lucifer up and moving, handing off his hat and cane to Charlie as he gets everyone to back up and give you some space. He approached you slowly, hands held up in front of him to show you he meant no harm and keeping his voice soft and calm as he tells you that no one’s going to hurt you, that your safe here with them. He makes sure to leave a little bit of space between you when he stops, sinking down into a crouch so he’s eye level though you won’t look at him for long, eyes darting around at even the slightest movement. You’re still bleeding, the sigil for his name looking the deepest. It makes Lucifer feel sick, that someone could do this to you and claim that it’s in his honour. He found no honour in an act like this, only hate and disgust, igniting a strong desire inside him to hunt down those responsible and show them the same kindness they had you.

It takes a good few minutes of Lucifer talking at you before he gets any form of response. He introduces himself, tells you once more that he isn’t going to hurt you and that he just wants to help and maybe even clean up those markings so they don’t get infected. It’s slow going but eventually you give him a slight nod, uncurling from where you had been trying to make yourself as small as possible so he can get a better look at the ugly mess of cuts on your chest. He startled you when he conjures water and a cloth, Lucifer apologising as you bang into the wall behind you in an attempt to get away from the sudden action. He does get you to calm down though, at least enough for him to clean away the blood and apply bandages.

These wounds will not disappear like the injuries the now resident of Hell would sustain, their origin in magic and acting as a physical sign of your binding to him. But Lucifer vows to look after them and you, after all this is all his fault and though he knows that Charlie would care for you if he was to up and leave he can’t bring himself to do so. It’s his responsibility to look after you, you are his after all and isn’t that just a horrific twisted little thought. Lucifer wants to cry, to beg your forgiveness because unless he was to gift your soul to another you were bound to him from now until eternity, forced to obey his every request regardless of what you wanted. He can’t cry though, not when you already are, silent tears rolling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin onto his hand and arm as he cleans away the blood. So he fights back the tears, completely focused on his task and trying to be as gentle as he possibly can be.

When he’s done and the now ruined rag and pink water are vanished away with the wave of his hand Lucifer doesn’t know what else to do other than offer you a safe space of your own and a comfortable bed to sleep in so he does exactly that. You look terrified when he asks if you would like to go to bed, eyes dropping down to just below his belt. Lucifer might actually be sick when he realises what you are scared is going to happen and he can’t get the words out quick enough to reassure you that he means to sleep and that you will be the only person in the room. His obvious horror at the implication seems to reassure you and you give him a small nod.

You use the wall to support you getting up but as soon as you go to take a step forward your legs buckle and Lucifer has to lurch forward to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Your to weak, wether that be from the shock or the blood loss Lucifer doesn’t know, possibly both, but what he does know is you are not going to make it up the several flights of stairs on your own.

He asks before picking you up, waiting for you to give him a nod of agreement before he slips one hand behind your back and the other behind your knees. It’s nothing for him to pick you up but it had you squeaking in surprise, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling yourself tighter against him. Lucifer can’t help laugh softly, assuring you that he was stronger than he looked and that he wouldn’t drop you. You don’t seem to buy it though, your hold around his neck tightening as you hide your head against his shoulder. He can’t blame you for being scared, Licifer looks like a strong breeze would send him stumbling but he supposes that’s one of the perks of being an angel, he’s stronger than he looks.

It’s only when he turns around that Lucifer realises the rooms completely empty except for the two of you. He doesn’t know when everyone else disappeared but he’s grateful for it, not sure how you would have reacted to a room full of weird looking people staring at you. He talks to you the whole time up to your room, telling you where he was taking you and a little about the hotel and it’s residents, though he mostly tell you about Charlie and Vaggie, the only other people he trusts to look after you correctly if he wasn’t around. Lucifer picks a room for you on the same floor as him though a couple of doors down in an attempt to keep you close and also give you some probably much needed distance. He sets you down on the bed, tells you where everything is including his room, just in case you need him before he comes back to check the bandages in a few hours. He does conjure you some sleep clothes though, making sure they were the softest and most comfortable thing you have ever worn. He wants you to be comfortable, to actually feel safe after what you have been through and though he knows the simple kindness he has showing you will not erase that it will hopefully show you that despite what you may have heard Lucifer isn’t all that bad.

Lucifer hates himself just a little bit more after what he does next, crouching down to look you in the eye and telling you that you can’t leave the hotel room unless he comes to get you or you are going to his room and nowhere else. Normally it would just be words but you are bound to Lucifer now and even you don’t want to you will have no choice but to obey him. You stiffen, nodding your head slightly but still you don’t say a word, not even when he bids you good night. He doesn’t even get the door half way closed before he hears you start to cry. He wants to go back, to take you in his arms and apologise for what has been done to you whilst reassuring you that life here will not be as bad as you think. He doesn’t though, wanting to give you time to greave and mourn the loss of your life.

He doesn’t even make it two steps down the corridor before it all really hits him and Lucifer crumbles, sinking to the floor and pressing his hand against his mouth in an attempt to muffle his own sobs. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, or how he’s even meant to care for you correctly. Animals were easy, simple to please, humans not so much. Plus Lucifer owned you, he would have to be extremely carful of what he said because even an offhanded comment would be taken as a command and you could end up getting seriously hurt.

It’s too much, Lucifer not equipped to deal with such responsibility but he has no choice, he has to. This is all his fault after all and he couldn’t abandon you in your hour of need. No he would figure this all out, tend to your wounds and help you adjust to life here in hell. He would help you find a place to call home, maybe at the hotel helping with the sinners or maybe something down in one of the other rings. Just somewhere you could feel truly safe and at ease. Whatever you wanted Lucifer would make it yours, giving you as much a slice of paradise as he can. How else would he atone for his mistake?

[vi0lentquiche]

[not making any points here bc there aren’t any to be made, partly because I’ve read none of the books so I don’t know where Harris ends and Rice begins. but in any case Anne Rice —> Bryan Fuller —> Hannibal doesn’t need belaboring, and neither does the fact that book Claudia is Michele Rice and Abigail is book Claudia in her expendability and doom and show Claudia is Abigail if canons had converged and Murder Fam had run away, as an indication of how well that AU would have gone, and they are like the football pulled away by Lucy, and like throw pillows, and they get reconstructed and grasped at but inexorably they slip away]

just an inventory:

nothing happened to me I happened, but I snap and lash out horrifically when vulnerable and hurt vs woe is me, things [I set into motion] keep happening to me and I can’t prevent them, but I snap and lash out horrifically when insecure and hurt

denial in order to maintain agency and control over emotions, if not events, which are loosely planned and recreationally catalyzed vs denial to maintain meticulous control over everything and everyone while emotions explode from time to time

orchestrating as psychopathic artistry vs staging, directing and editing as psychopathic control

eating ppl in plain sight, smug and giddy about how flimsy the disguise is, nothing here is vegetarian, everything you are about to see is real

grotesque murder installations by a campy whimsical weirdo vs grotesque macabre campy whimsical theater by a studiedly collected dignified weirdo

Bacon is now literal, on a wall

home interior design so ostentatious it veers into the ridiculous

hunting, on motorbike, in Paris, in cunty outfit

formative years in Venice

hunting efficiently and playing with food a little before eating it like a normal cat vs ~consensually stalking and psychic driving prey, which is very strange and I don't see how that can be satisfying at all

genuinely cheerful and carefree vs facade of nonchalance over despair and hollowness

loss of composure as arresting spectacle

the terrible focus and stillness of a predatory animal

locked in a terrible embrace

ASMR hypnosis, in the garden of a hurricane’s eye, his low and even voice pulling you in like a current, like a bath, like honey on your tongue

no escape from towels dipped in water bowls and dabbed at ouchies

where’s Jack? in the pantry [where it’s raining blood upside down] vs the floor slants slightly north, the boy's blood flowed that way, we should fix that before we sell

stuck as the teacup shatters-gathers back up-shatters again, never satisfied vs clinging to the habitual and reenacting

fussy and compulsive vs metronomic and obsessive

swimmers lol

use lint removers daily probably

precision and economy of movement, micro expressions, detailed and refined facial coordination, frissons of emotion passing over motionless face, confined to fathomless eyes

reptilian sensuousness, charisma of megafauna

warped sense of time and holes in the floor of the mind belied by a strong sense of identity and integrated personality vs unmoored from place and time with diffuse dissociative identity

palatial memory vs boulevards of framed time and space

enjoyer of insouciantly performed submission (tm) vs let’s not even go there, what a clusterfuck

shocking exertion of power and control over loved ones, cavalier violation of every boundary imaginable followed by tragicfaced innocent crocodile tears

they said it was surgical, the same precise edit on two brains

the pain must be exquisite, the seizure was mild

ethical butchery, eat/drink the ugly and the profane

long-term control/coercion and quick, brutal murder of Abigail vs slow, systematic theatricalized brutalization and murder of Claudia

hauntings as projections of guilt so powerful they look corporeal until released

can-I-come-in-are-you-planning-to-kill-me-nah

incapacitated!Will/Louis’ “don’t”s

scales falling from eyes as memories are recovered and righteous anger flares

love paid him a visit and look where that got him vs might actually be a Girl Who’s Going To Be Okay!!

finally, I never got how Hannibal was supposed to be seducing me into evil with his poorly fitted suits, stupid wordplay, corny in jokes with himself, bitchy todder tantrums and generally loathsome self vs the sheer ridiculousness of my Armand experience:

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Imagine how William feels about that narcissist sociopath desecrating his Mother's memory and name by u/ElectricalAd9212

Imagine how William feels about that narcissist sociopath desecrating his Mother's memory and name Seeing the latest hideous spectacle in Colombia and the hideous 'Diana' PR effluent.Made me think of our future King.William lost his mother.His mother was exceptionally loving and close to him.In some ways, too much so.She would not hide her emotions and feelings from him.It was a lot to process for a young person.To be in eye of the storm of his parents relationship, and to feel the burden of his mother's intense love and emotional turmoil placed upon him.Her sudden death left him traumatised, and having to process his feelings privately as the whole world was watching him.He would have felt anger, pain, grief, and the numbing sense of helplessness that he could not have protected his mother.Eventually, time began to heal the wound.He was fierce and righteous when needed, as he was when holding the BBC to account for the lies over the Panorama interview and the evil manipulations and cover up.But look what he did. He refused to be haunted by grief and resentment.And he met someone who took away his pain.Who healed his heart.And gave him children and redeemed his heart.And I think he has spoken obliquely about this. I feel he doesnt want to speak publically about his mother too directly, because of the privacy and sanctity he wants for his Mother and her memory.He speaks about not being defined by the pain of the past, about making a happy life for his children, and about his wife forging her own path, not following in the path of his Mother, creating her own way.So I think William thinks of his Mother deeply, and loves her, and does so privately, because he views himself as guardian of the sanctity and sacredness of her repose. He endeavours to remember her through his life, and how he gives stability to his children, and his relationship with his wife, the stability he never hadAnd then just imagine how he must feel to see that evil, sociopathic, necrophiliac demon digging up his Mother's grave, like a psychopath, every day desecrating her name, trying to paint herself as his Mother's reincarnation, to earn money, like an inexplicable evil.Stalking her in death, claiming that she is the inheritor and descendent of his Mother, all for money and 'fame', think of the violation and desecration.I'm glad William has his wife and children and extended family to take away the thought of what that woman does.When you think of it like that she seems more and more like something of the Devil herself. post link: https://ift.tt/lpk7OxF author: ElectricalAd9212 submitted: August 22, 2024 at 01:58AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[gregor-samsa-said-i-could]

Humans are terrifying

Recently (like today, a couple hours ago) I came across this whole "humans are weird" and "humans are space orcs" trend and I have been furiously reading every post I come across. The subject, besides enormously entertaining, feels like a collective sociology debate or something where we describe, using aliens as some sort of audience, the most diverse aspects of human nature. Like some metaphor we're using just to enjoy what we like about ourselves as species.

And, honestly, most of these post are wholesome, cute or even funny but for some reason I feel drown towards the ones that explore the darkest and more gruesome aspects of human, as species. Now bear with me because English isn't my first language but hear me out:

Humans as apex predators. Aggressive humans. The liars, the vicious, the wreckless... It probably goes on and on, since I know for sure I have only touched the tip of the iceberg in my reading.

So, what I'm trying to say it's that sure, it's cute to get along with other species and ride their ships and impress them with our special talents and "properties". But what if we didn't?

What if aliens were afraid of us? What if protocols aren't such a thing after some centuries and there were all kinds of roge, pirate-like, human vessels and colonies around? What if we murder, hunted, ate, assaulted and cheated?

Imagine the horror in the souls of the soft, pacific aliens who are accustomed to their ancient ways of sharing, caring, and respecting, when they suddenly find themselves dealing with a new species that is as unpredictable as it is dangerous. Picture humans hunting a specific kind of alien because their meat is said to taste like some sort of addictive delicacy or because they have horns or nails made out of certain material that sells extremely well in the black market? Imagine humans flirting their way into power only to betray those who entrusted them with everything. I'm pretty sure apex predators can do that and more. The actors. The ones who can laugh at a Roomba with a knife taped to it as if it isn't something a little disturbing to begin with.

They can do horrors. They live in horror.

And aliens pray every day to not find those humans.

Because they all look alike. When and alien meets them they all smile and pat each other. They all ask questions out of juvenile curiosity and offer what they have, no matter how little. But they all can also have scars and sinful grins. They all can stab you in the back. And if you happen to meet the ones who will, you know is gonna be hard to scape. Because humans are some sort of fucking Land Rover-like beasts, specially on their adrenaline fueled moments. How can you avoid becoming the next barbeque? I don't know.

What about serial killers? Sociopaths? Psychopaths? There are a whole lot of new species to mess with. Imagine a narcissist gaslighting the hell out of some naive alien who wouldn’t understand why and how they are being mistreated, yet remains infatuated nonetheless. Dead bodies appearing on the ship in gruesome ways, as if someone were playing with their anatomy, portraying the dead aliens as some sort of spectacle, as if they were trying to say: "Look at what I did, this horrible, horrible thing". Aliens wouldn't understand, nor would they be ready to deal with the absolute disdain humans can sometimes have for life itself.

Even suicide...

I don't know why I find it interesting to think about these kinds of aspects. I'm not precisely enjoying it, but I just find it interesting. It's just some sci-fi headcanon, but still... Humans have so many shades, so much dark in their light. I don't feel the fantasy is complete if I don't consider that as well.

[bananapancakewithcondensedmilk]

When true crime is framed as entertainment, it becomes detached from the reality of the events and people involved. Instead of encouraging deeper reflection on societal and systemic issues, it becomes a spectacle for consumption.

The crimes are seen as isolated, almost fictional stories, rather than being understood as manifestations of larger systemic problems within humanity.

By presenting crime as a unique, standalone event, true crime media ignores the fact that these actions often stem from systemic failures, such as:

• Inequality

• Mental health issues

• Marginalization

• Broken social or justice systems

Viewers are left entertained but not enlightened, unable to see the societal patterns and human dynamics that underlie criminal behavior.

Instead of using true crime to foster understanding, empathy, or critical thinking about humanity, the focus shifts to the shock factor and entertainment value. The perpetrators and victims become caricatures, stripped of their humanity.

When true crime is reduced to “content,” it reinforces a sense of otherness—that criminals are uniquely bad people, separate from society, rather than products of the same flawed systems we all live in.

This detachment prevents meaningful conversations about how to address the root causes of crime or reform the systems that perpetuate it.

Perpetrators of violent crimes often represent something outside the boundaries of normal human behavior. This can make them both terrifying and fascinating to people who want to understand what drives such extreme actions.

Society teaches us to fear and avoid such individuals, but some people are drawn to the “forbidden” nature of these figures, creating an air of mystique around them.

True crime media often portrays perpetrators in dramatic, larger-than-life ways. This can make them seem almost fictional or mythic, blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

True crime narratives often spend more time on the perpetrator than the victims or the systemic issues surrounding the crime. This creates a skewed focus where the criminal becomes the central “character.”

The media sometimes uses visuals, language, or editing styles that romanticize or glamorize perpetrators, consciously or unconsciously.

Many people in the true crime community feel like outsiders themselves. They may identify with the perpetrator’s sense of alienation, even if they don’t condone their actions.

Some people idealize perpetrators because they believe they can understand or redeem them, projecting their own feelings of compassion or need for connection onto the criminal.

When people consume media about criminals, they sometimes feel like they “know” them, especially if the content humanizes or personalizes the perpetrator (e.g., showing their childhood or struggles).

For some, this can blur boundaries, leading to infatuation or romantic feelings, especially if the criminal is portrayed as charismatic or “misunderstood.”

Some may admire the perpetrator’s ability to “defy” societal norms, even if in a destructive way, because it represents power or control they may feel they lack.

True crime media often ignores systemic issues like poverty, mental health, or social inequality, making perpetrators seem like isolated “evil geniuses” rather than products of a flawed system.

True crime often reduces perpetrators to simplistic labels like “evil,” “monster,” or “psychopath.” This ignores the nuances of their humanity, motivations, or the systemic conditions that contributed to their actions.

Depending on the narrative, perpetrators are either glorified (seen as clever or charismatic anti-heroes) or dehumanized (portrayed as irredeemable villains). Neither approach allows for a fuller understanding of who they are as people.

The narrative frequently strips victims of their agency, focusing more on their suffering than their humanity. This can inadvertently perpetuate the idea that they’re defined solely by the crime committed against them.

True crime sometimes capitalizes on the sensational aspects of a victim’s death rather than honoring their life, which can feel dehumanizing to their families and loved ones.

Complexity requires more time, thought, and care, which conflicts with the fast-paced, entertainment-driven nature of modern media.

[randomthefox]

Anti shippers are the kind of psychopaths that you'd find in cautionary tales. Telling someone to look at actual child porn instead of fictional characters is the most self-defeating, demented, and destructive thing I've ever seen while browsing online. Jesus christ these people need to get off the internet.

It really speaks to their complete and total disconnect from reality.

The funny thing is you can really tell that they have no capacity for empathy whatsoever from stuff like that. And not for the reason you think. Their whole thing is performative activism and virtue signaling. Making a spectacle out of being good people, basically. Pretending to be a good person in public, for the sake of social clout. And they think everyone else operates like that too.

So when they see people with "problematic" kinks posting their content publicly, they can't comprehend it. It doesn't compute. Because they think everyone else is like them, and only cares about LOOKING like a good person.

They're legitimately broken. Something inside of them is missing. I feel sorry for them.

[j1998v]

medicpauling school sketches !! ! !

cringe under the cut aka the ones i dont like

made her head too big

[rynekins]

Once again my mind is plagued with Sideshow Bob brainrot and I must infodump about him for a bit to clear it. This is a sorta continuation of this post where I ramble about how prison warped Bob’s personality. While I often consider doing a more structured series of Sideshow Bob reviews, I have nothing concrete planned at the moment, so posts like these will remain sporadic. However, I am rather open for more discussion with those who dare ask.

The focus today is on Sideshow Bob’s defining character trait.

There are many popular labels used for Sideshow Bob that fail to paint a full picture because the very opposites of those aspects are also true to his character. Highly educated with a great capacity for idiocy. Sophisticated with bouts of unhinged rage. A mastermind whose plans never work. A murderous psychopath who’s never actually murdered anyone and has attempted to reform. A villain who has saved the day, more than once. A failure that never gives up. All of these apply but I feel he has a more comprehensive character trait. One that remains true in every appearance, exemplified in all of his actions and downfalls. Above everything else, and I say this with the utmost affection, Bob is an attention whore.

Bob needs an audience like he needs air to breathe. All the world’s a stage and he lives to perform. He's pathetically desperate for your reaction, whether it’s praise, scorn, fear, or a laugh. He’ll sing, act, tell jokes, contort his body, or share the details of his cunning scheme with you, even if it jeopardizes everything he’s worked for, in exchange for a fleeting moment of recognition.

He wants to be seen, heard, known, understood, celebrated. Don’t we all. But his craving for validation can never be satisfied, which led him down this road of suffering. In the flashback in “Brother from Another Series”, during the sidekick audition, Bob looks a bit more composed than usual.

This is the earliest moment in his life that we witness. He’s hiding all his iconic hair in a hat and presents himself with dignity and poise; is this where he gets bit by the acting bug and everything changes for him? Doubtful, since his mother is a famous actress and he probably grew up in a home that valued the arts. I think he might have been repressing a lot of his more comical tendencies at this point, then unleashed them due to an unexpected pie to the face. Bob is angry at first, but within seconds relishes having an audience’s approval. All it took was Krusty calling him a “genius” and Bob’s fate was sealed. In “Krusty Gets Busted,” it’s up to interpretation if Bob genuinely wanted to solve Bart’s problem out of the goodness in his heart, or if his ego demanded that he prove to his audience what a good role model and host he can be. In” Sideshow Bob Roberts,” he charms everyone in town with his silver tongue, but is still so insecure about how he’s perceived that he feels he has to cheat to win the election. In “Cape Feare,” Bart compliments his voice and he’s all too eager to boast his musical talent. In “Sideshow Bob’s Last Gleaming,” being called “smart” is enough to let his guard down.

He needs constant reassurance that he’s smart, talented, and loved. I believe that in “Black Widower”, Bob’s courting of Selma wasn’t a ruse, at least not at first. They probably had nothing in common (certainly wouldn’t bond over media taste) except that both were painfully lonely. They fell fast in what they thought was love because they showed each other the slightest bit of affection, then opened the floodgates of built up feelings that had nowhere else to go. But realizing there would always be another man in her life more important than him, MacGyver, any love Bob felt towards Selma evaporated.

Combine this pettiness with his freshly warped sense of morality courtesy of Springfield Penitentiary, and he would find this sudden violent hatred justifiable. But everything has to be a spectacle with Bob, so of course he would end things with a heckin’ fiery explosion. As we have established, Bob is prone to self-sabotage. He can be unbearably pretentious, so he struggles finding others that share his passions. But Bob isn’t a gatekeeper for these interests. He would love nothing more than to discuss art, music, literature and theater and convince others to appreciate them as well. He has a desire to teach, and finds fulfillment when he helms his own educational program with an audience willing to listen and cheer him on. He doesn’t have such luck with his peers, who tend to throw his books back at him. In the episode “The Man Who Grew Too Much”, Homer mentions Mozart’s name and you can tell Bob is ready to drop everything and gush about a special interest, but Homer then reveals that he doesn’t really care. So imagine being in an incredibly niche fandom with no one but the void to hear your headcanons or fan favorites. That’s Bob's predicament, but he’s persistent (and maniacal).

Little brother Cecil is similar, but he’s more likely to back down when the audience doesn’t indulge him.

It is left to our imagination what their childhood was like. Their mother might have encouraged them both to pursue theater, but did either of them ever feel pride in their accomplishments? Is there a reason Cecil gives up and Bob can’t be stopped? Perhaps Bob leans into the villain role because he’s convinced himself he was born for it (give him credit, he does play it cartoonishly well), but when the tables turn he’s equally as enthusiastic playing the part of a noble hero. He seems unable to turn off the dramatics either way. There have been a few moments when he admits he does not want to commit to a violent act, and you could argue it’s because deep down he knows he’s playing a character that he's taken too far and that it isn’t his true self, or maybe he's horrified his true self is a monster and he’d rather play a different character as a means to contain it (I am not referring to moments from “Day of the Jackanapes” or “The Great Louse Detective”, moreso “The Man Who Grew Too Much”, “Gone Boy”, and “Bobby It’s Cold Outside”). His instincts during these moments seem to be to run away.

But Bob can’t live secluded in his lil lighthouse forever, even if it means no one gets hurt and he would be free. Prison made him crazy. Isolation would destroy him.

[smilingangel582]

Someone recommended this soooo enjoyyyyyy!!!

Mighty Kings fall!!!

Hiii, I'm writing another haikyuu fic. I got a lot of likes and reblogs, so thanks a lot!

As always, Lee kageyama is my only fav thing to write! Enjoy then!

Warning spoilers alert

"Truth or dare, Noya?"

Nishinoya hummed in thought, the libero grinned "Dare"

Tanaka sneered now "Oh yeah? I dare you to bounce the ball without dropping it to the ground for at least five minutes."

"So mean of ya, Tanaka!" Was the shortest fellow's response, and surprisingly, after five tries, he did manage to keep the ball stable with perfect receives to himself.

"Nice Noya! Alright, now Tsukishima..." it was Nishinoya's turn to offer either a dare or a truth to him. The libero added, however, "But you used all your three truths, so it's a dare, buddy."

Everyone snickered at Tsukki's plight as the blocker pushed his glasses irritably.

"I dare you..." Noya takes some time to consider his dare, then his eyes scan the players and noticed Kageyama, "Aha! I dare you to make Kageyama laugh -very loud!"

Tsukishima froze now, eyeing Kageyama wearily. "What regal punishment will I get to assault the king with such frivolous cause?"

"Oi!"

Noya grinned, now pushing spikes further up as he spoke, "You see... you both need to lighten up, and Kageyama could use a laugh... look at his frown..."

It's a dare after all, and Kageyama wasn't equally as thrilled as anyone else in their court.

Now Daichi watched Tanaka, Noya, Tsukishima (who was forced to the game), Hinata, Yameguchi, and Kageyama (who was also forced)...then he smiled "Seems like the kids are having fun for once"

Sugawara grinned and used a chopping hit on his head. "You sound like a Grandpa captain"

"Use jokes, Tsukki!" Hinata's expression was exaggerating, and Kageyama wondered why he was so thrilled in this."I'll make sure you win against the stoic King of the court!"

"Would you shut up!" Kageyama was ignored.

Tsukishima wondered, maybe it would be fun to see the king laugh and be embarrassed later on. Might as well try it.

But still, jokes isn't his forte. "Where do the crazy people go if they were lost?"

Kageyama answered blankly. "They are crazy so they take the psychopath"

Widening his eyes, Hinata never expected kageyama to know the answer, "Wait, you heard jokes before?"

He frowned. "My sister used to tell them they're pretty boring and common so... that was a very weak attempt..." he turned to Tsukishima with a smug look."You can't win this dare. "

Motivated Hinata turned to Noya "Can't I try! I wanna see him laugh too"

Noya thought knowing its against the rules... but then before he could refuse he heard the third years approaching "What's this? Make Kageyama burst out laughing...? Count me in"

Kageyama was shocked. "W-what? You can't do that... Tsukishima is only dared to do so..."

Noya clapped his hands in enthusiasm "Now I'm pumped let's finish him off!"

Kageyama felt like they took this way too seriously. He realised how some jokes were lame and common, especially from Tsukishima. Sugawara's had a funny sound effect, which sort of seemed funny that Hinata burst out laughing. Tanaka's absurd face contortions were out of this world. Noya joined in with equal talents as Tanaka and Hinata got worse jokes which didn't make sense to anyone at all...

Whatever obstacle they tried... nothing broke the star setter.

Tired they were, Daichi seemed to see how everyone was giving their all. But he remained watching the spectacle with interest along with Asahi, Yameguchi, and Ennoshita.

Kageyama looked at Tsukishima now with a smirk. "Seems like not even the bird brain can handle such a simple task as this"

"Yeah a Kings sense of humour is much wicked than you think"

Everyone was ready to give up but that was until Hinata whispered something to Tsukishima.

"Psst..." he rapidly began spilling the joyous secret.

Tsukishima's eyes widened. Wait...? He should've done that at first... why didn't he think of that?

He slowly sneaked a couple of fingers towards Kageyama, who was unaware of the dangers coming towards him.

A squeak.

That was all it took from him the moment Tsukki poked his side.

He glared now "Oi, four eyes don't touch me!"

Tsukishima grinned widely, kageyama froze now, seeing sinister darkness beneath his glasses. "Ah... I see now that I failed to see that someone with your personality tends to be a lot more sensitive than we think"

"H-huh...?" Kageyama was hovered over and Tsukishima was wiggling his fingers menacingly "Tell me your highness, are you ticklish?"

"No..." was a hesitant answer, and yet Kageyama clamped his arms down to avoid any room for Tsukishima to attack.

Hinata giggled brightly "Oh he is ticklish, alright! It was my idea!"

Noya snickered now "Shall we get him...?"

However or perhaps fortunately for Kageyama, Tsukishima stopped them. "This is my dare, I get to make the king lose his sanity.... you can try after I'm done."

Everyone snickered with villainy, and they were all ready to overthrow the king with his weakness.

"First I start here..."

Kageyama gasped but didn't laugh immediately when Tsukishima skillfully sneaked his long fingers on his waist, and Kageyama jolted but with no laugh still. He was squirming but also had the audacity to say, "Is that all you got skinny bastard? This is nothing!"

"Ah, ah, ah king wrong move... I was planning on going easy on you, but..." he raised his fingers as if he were playing a dramating piano piece."You are finished now..."

"Gah -wait!"

Kageyama felt those fingers now sneak at the back of his ribs he shrieked but didn't laugh immeidatelt. So Tsukishima was half satisfied with what he got, though he wanted to make him laugh more.

"I know ribs are bad for you, so maybe I got the wrong angle..." it was like a science experiment. Except he wasn't being dissected like frog... now he wished he was that frog.

"Y-you have the nerve t-toho be soho bohold!" Kageyama flinched and twitched from one side to another, he was good at concealing but he had underestimated his fellow first year.

"Andd I spy a tickle spot here!"

He certainly can tease. Kageyama broke into giggles when his higher ribs were targeted "I told you your ribs will get you in trouble!"

Hinata jumped on his butt now excited to join but remained still as the rest who were itching to join the fun.

"Laugh out loud... you are still giggling, so this doesn't count" Tsukki was already enjoying tormenting the setter. He was ready for the finale and Kageyama was anxious enough to glower at him but also fear foe the worst.

Starting him instantly, he began to flip him, realising where he was going. "OK! Wait... I give up. This has gone too, faaa-aaahahar!"

He shrieked out a laugh when a finger slid down his spine.

"Jackpot..." Tsukishima smirked "Now prepare for the hell you've been waiting for!"

He laughed. It was loud and contagious, bubbly and cute. nobody expected him to sound so cute.... not even Hinata. He heard grumpy giggles sure it was adorable too but this squeals and loud belly laughter was unfair!

"Ahhh, he's so cute..."It came from Noya, who was also waiting for his turn, "man Tsukki got the a pretty good dare I wanna mess with him Too!"

"DOHOHONT IHIHI GEHEHT A SAHAHAHAY IHIHIN THIHIHIS??" Kageyama yelled out through his laughter.

Daichi clapped now and Tuskki stopped in thst signal "I won.."

"Alright we'll mess with Kageyama after practice"

Everyone cheered on that while the youngest player was agast. "Haaah??? Captain! Nohohot you tooo!"

He was ignored yet again but ended up getting pokes from his orange friend, "Awwww, don't be upset sulky-yama shall I tickle it away?"

"Gehet off yohou human tangerine!" He pushed him off but then glowered at the guy with glasses who smirked back with a triumphant sneer."Don't let your guard down king now that your weakness is exposed"

"Bastard..." he grumbled.

[mielmoto]

@humilisilence / prompted. (inbox call) [ im... so sorry honey ]

A fairy? Out here??? What Luck! Link will have to take the opportunity with utmost care as he sneaks up on the glowing spectacle sailing on by... before leaping out like a mad man and cupping his hands securely around them! He slowly pries a crack open in his grasp to get a look... and huh. This... isn't like any fairy he's ever caught before. Uh oh...

Blinking softly and trailed by subtle wisps of light, a faint chiming sound—no doubt the sight of it was a welcoming thing, but Honey also found she attracted less attention from more... unsavory passers-by in the wilderness when flitting by in this more diminutive shape, aside from the occasional curious bokoblin lazily watching her float by, or the occasional mountain crow hopping from branch to branch with interest.

Simply put, it was the safest form to travel long distances in...

Or, at least, it had been, 'til now.

It happens so quickly she wouldn't have had time to shriek, even if she'd had the lungs and vocal chords to do so. Instead, she merely blinks brighter as everything goes dark, a sturdy set of well-worked hands clasped around the little light with surprising speed. ( one might think it wasn't his first time, the psychopath ).

He sure gets an eyefull when he does take his peek; and an earful to match. Voice be damned, this thing can still make a racket; and he could no doubt pick up on the fear, anger, and irritation in the bell-like clamor the flickering fae emits. Only after a moment does she muster the energy to make it something he can understand, chiming joined by a voice spoken directly into his thoughts:

❝ WHAT IN THE GREAT GOLDEN GODDESS' NAMES IS, LIKE, WRONG WITH YOU? what sort of SOCIOPATH just goes around SNATCHING people out of the air like that???!!! How would you like it if some huge freak came and clapped you up in their big sweaty palms, huh?!! ❞

[adorieheartz]

Melodies with the heart, A Demons dance with Desire: Part 1 [RadioStatic] [FanFic]

Hells sky, streaked with ominous clouds, seemed to pulse with the chaotic energy of the annual Extermination. Shadows twisted and darted through the streets, demons scrambling like roaches before the approaching extermination. Screams echoed in the air, a cacophony of fear that marked this dark event, coming through the alleys and rooftops. High above, the Exterminators descended.

For most, this was a time of terror, a moment to hide and pray. For Alastor, it was a show.

He stood amid the mayhem, a figure of dark elegance against the backdrop of chaos. The Radio Demon. He surveyed the scene with unshakeable delight, his sharp grin widening as he took in the pandemonium. His red eyes glinted with amusement, and the crackling sound of his laughter filled the air as he held his staff between his fingers.

"Well, well, well!" Alastor called out,.

"Our little festival is in full swing! Such delightful chaos, don’t you think? You’d think they’d learn by now that the demons of Hell don’t like visitors!"

He spun around, arms open wide, basking in the madness. Nearby, demons tried to fend off the Exterminators, only to be struck down, their howls of agony harmonizing with Alastor’s amusement. It was a grim performance, one that Alastor relished.

Then, from the heavens, a figure descended, it was Adam, leader of the Exorcists, landed with a flamboyant flourish, a goofy grin plastered across his face. His halo shimmered, and his vibrant wings fluttered with a life of their own.

“Hey, Alastor!” Adam called, his voice bright and teasing. “Mind if I crash your little party? I brought some heavenly justice just for you!”

Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “Ah, the main act finally arrives! You certainly know how to make an entrance. Shall we dance?”

Without waiting for a response, Adam lunged forward, his guitar glowing with divine energy. Alastor barely had time to react as the Exterminator charged, his expression a mix of playful mischief and fierce determination.

“Catch me if you can!” Adam shouted, his tone light as he aimed his weapon at Alastor.

The battle began - a blend of sheer power. Alastor wielded his cane, summoning waves of tentacles that erupted around him, each pulse accompanied by crackling static and the ghostly echoes of laughter. Yet Adam, with his childlike glee, danced around the strikes with surprising agility.

“Nice moves!” Adam called, dodging another of Alastor’s spells. “But have you ever tried twirling? It adds flair to your.. whoops!”

Alastor seized the moment, sending out a wave of energy that sent Adam staggering. “Oh, dear Adam, your humor is delightful but a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps more suited for a Saturday morning cartoon than a battle to the death?”

Adam laughed, his spirit unfazed. “Well, it’s hard to keep things dark when I’m just so… bright! Get it? Because I’m an angel?” He winked, clearly enjoying the banter.

✧༺★༻✧

Vox was watching from his lair, the glow of his screens illuminating his face as he monitored every angle of the fight. He rubbed his hands together, as he delved his hand into a popcorn box. “Now this is entertainment! If Alastor falls, it’ll be the juiciest broadcast in all of Hell, And I'll finally show that walking outdated radio just who he's messing with! Perfect! Just perfect!”

As Alastor and Adam exchanged blows, the tension in the air thickened. Each clash of their powers sent ripples through the surrounding chaos, drawing more demons into the fray, their eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before them.

“Wow, you’re really persistent!” Adam exclaimed, dodging another attack. “You should think about going pro! Maybe even join the Exorcists - just kidding! We can’t have psychopathic nobodies in heaven!”

Alastor’s grin faltered for a moment as he felt the weight of the fight. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Adam. I’m afraid you’ll find that I’m not so easily defeated.”

The banter continued, the playful back-and-forth making the battle feel like a twisted game. Alastor conjured illusions, distracting Adam with distorted images of himself, while Adam spun around, trying to discern the real threat.

“Nice try! But I’ve seen better illusions from a funhouse mirror!” Adam shouted, laughing as he swung his spear.

The chaotic dance pushed and Alastor began to realize the severity of the situation. Each attack from Adam landed harder, and the playful atmosphere began to shift as the stakes grew higher.

“Come on, Alastor! Show me what you’ve got!” Adam teased, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I didn’t come down here for a boring fight! Let’s kick it up a notch!”

Adam flew up into the air, he conjured his angelic power & snapped Alastors cane in two. Alastor looked down, "Fuck." And then he was slammed against the wall.

✧༺★༻✧

(A/N) From now on, this story will feature one of my own characters! If you are confused at any point, I'd suggest reading the introductory xo -viv

In a swirl of shadows, Ryoba appeared, stepping into the fray with an elegance that silenced the chaos for a moment. Her presence commanded attention; her regal demeanor contrasted sharply with the pandemonium surrounding her. She moved with fluidity, her eyes scanning the battlefield with calm focus, a serene smile on her lips, Double playing Alastors iconic one.

“Such a ruckus for a simple dance,” Ryoba remarked, her voice soft yet resonant. “Mind if I join?”

Adam turned, his goofy grin broadening. “Whoa, a new dance partner! I’m flattered! I hope you like the theme - Chaos! It’s all the rage this season!”

“I’m sure it is,” Ryoba replied, her gaze steady as she assessed the situation. She saw Alastor on his knees, bloodied and weak, and felt a surge of trying to prove to Alastor who she really was, her ego stepping in to lead her to a battle already decided. “Step aside, Alastor. I’ll handle this.”

Without waiting for his reply, she lunged at Adam, her blade glinting as she teleported behind him. Adam, momentarily surprised, spun around just in time to block her strike.

“Whoa! You’re fast!” he exclaimed, the thrill of the fight igniting his spirit. “But can you keep up with my moves?”

Ryoba didn’t respond; instead, she focused, her attacks precise and elegant. Adam’s playful demeanor contrasted sharply with her deadly intent, and their clash was a whirlwind of blades and angelic power. She weaved through his strikes with the grace of a dancer, countering with swift slashes aimed at his exposed sides.

“Nice footwork!” Adam cheered, dodging another of her strikes. “But I’ve got moves you’ve never seen before!”

“Then let’s see them,” Ryoba replied, she hardened her tone. With each clash of their weapons, the air crackled with tension.

Vox watched with rapt attention, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Now this is what I call prime content! Two overlords battling a divine fool? The potential for humiliation is just amazing..” A smirk played on Vox's face as Valentino and velvet grinned as well.

Ryoba’s resolve intensified. She could feel the stakes rising; Adam was relentless, and the energy of the battle was shifting. Despite her power, the weight of the situation pressed down on her.

Ryoba ducked beneath another of Adam’s strikes.

In a moment of distraction, however, Adam saw his opening. He lunged forward with renewed vigor, “Time to wrap this up, lovely lady!”

With a swift thrust, Adam’s Guitar connected, piercing Ryoba’s thigh and ripping the heel cohersive. The impact sent shockwaves through her, the angelic light searing into her flesh. For a split second, the world slowed, and everything around her faded into a blur.

“Not so fun when the tables turn, huh?” Adam quipped, his tone half-serious, half-amused.

Ryoba let out a small yelp, pain coursing through her. She staggered back, her facade cracking as blood dripped from her mouth. But even as she faltered, a fire ignited within her. she steadied herself.

Summoning the last of her strength, In an instant, she teleported away, disappearing into the shadows just as Adam prepared for another strike.

✧༺★༻✧

Vox’s eyes gleamed with triumph as the screen cut to black. “That’s right, Ryoba! Flee while you can! The ratings will be delicious! Two overlords, reduced to a fleeing wretch!” He chuckled to himself, already envisioning the headlines.

Adam watched her disappear, a mixture of surprise and concern on his face. “Wait! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!” he called out, half-laughing, “I was just trying to lighten the mood! Don’t go, it was just a little fun!” he said in a mocking tone.

He turned back to Alastor, who struggled to rise from the attack managed a pained chuckle. “Oh, Adam, you’re a riot. You’ve just sent one of Hell’s finest packing. Now, that’s not exactly Bright of you, is it?”

Adam shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “Hey, all in good fun! But she was pretty intense! Did you see her moves? Like a ballet dancer on fire!”

Alastor rolled his eyes, wincing as he pushed himself up. “What a delightful metaphor, Adam. Now, if you could kindly focus on the matter at hand rather than waxing poetic, I would greatly appreciate it.”

As Alastor regained his composure, a sense of urgency washed over him. He needed to find Rosie, the only person who wouldn't take advantage of his vulnerable state.

“Enough of this nonsense.” Alastor declared, his voice rising with static as he Clutched his now broken cane and disappeared into the shadows.

Vox side viewed val and velvet, "HAH, that was actually the best thing I couldve seen happen today! I can't wait to finish off that sad heart-broken egotistical prick! " it was unevident if Vox was referring to Ryoba or Alastor, but either way he had a resentment for them both so..

(A/N) Don't really know where I'm going with this book lolz, Btw the only reason Ryoba stepped in was to try downprove Alastor. But Alastor and Ryoba aren't on bad terms x!! Since this show will feature Ryoba slot, I wanted to clear up why incase y'all don't have the time to read the description. She is my own OC and I feel writing boring without adding my own creative touch!!

Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter