#spectrum-sanctuary thoughts

[redvexillum]

I feel like the way I portray Alastor is all in the spectrum of Yandare. So, I tried my best to write...yandare Alastor in a way it makes sense for my head canon of him. I want to give a quick shout out to my friend @peach-flavored-flambe ! I thought the best way to welcome her is dedicating this unhinged Alastor story to her!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, dead dove: do not eat, dub con, obsessive!alastor, p in v, gentle sex, gaslighting, entrapment, breeding kink, psychological, dark, mental torment, unhealthy relationship, orgasm denial, power dynamic, unhinged!alastor, reader is not okay, implied cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, depression, reader is delulu, alastor is delulu, extreme co-dependency, extreme denial, yandare!alastor

🙏 please mind your mental health before you read 🙏

The thought curled through you like poison, clinging to every corner of your mind: you wanted to die.  

It was a siren song, cruel and haunting, a whisper that slithered deep into the crumbling fortress of your mind, eroding the defences you’d built to keep it out. Your hands shook as exhaustion seeped into every crack; bones weary from a battle that felt endless. It wasn’t just tiredness – it was a soul-deep weight, a leaden heaviness that hollowed you out.  

In the background, soft jazz played from the kitchen, each note swirling with a warmth that felt so alien in the cold void within you. Sunlight poured through the window, a golden river that washed over everything it touched, indifferent to the shadows lurking within.  

You noticed the knife on the counter – a sharp gleam that seemed to pulse with a dangerous allure, its polished blade catching the light with a slick, almost wet shine. It seemed to call out to you, offering a quick, dreamless eternity.  

But even as your gaze lingered, your heart resisted, tethered stubbornly to someone who’d become both your prison and sanctuary. 

Alastor.  

A man you never should have crossed paths with. A man you should never have fallen for.  

You sighed, holding the knife as you turned back to the chunk of meat. Its once bright crimson flesh changing to a dull, dead brown. The raw smell was overwhelming, thick and nearly spoiled in the oppressive Louisiana heat. Alastor left you with some tasks today, after you had begged him to give you something to do as you wait for his return. Your task was to package the meat, clean up the kitchen, polish the floor while you waited for his return.  

The smell of raw meat brought images to flicker through your mind: men and women, faces frozen in terror as Alastor dragged them down to the cellar. A shiver ran down your spine, and a small whimper escaped, a whisper of fear against the tears that threatened to fall. You tore your gaze away from the knife and forced yourself to look outside. The bayou stretched out beyond the window, a bleak expanse of gnarly trees and dark water – silent, desolate, and as inescapable as him.  

You took a steadying breath, mentally reciting the day’s tasks like a prayer to keep you grounded. Finish the meat, scrub the blood stains, bleach the floor, and when the last crimson smear was gone, he’d return. By then, you’d be ready, composed. With a sniff, you shoved your feelings back, burying them under the monotony of chores.  

Finally, when every trace of red erased from the floor, you heard the front door click open. The sound echoed, a rhythmic click-click-click, each lock sliding free, the metal grating sharply against the silence. Your heart skipped as the door creaked, and there he stood – Alastor, haloed in the setting sun. His smile was gentle, but his eyes gleamed as he opened his arms.  

“My love,” he murmured, setting down his bag and slipping off his coat with an air of practised ease.  

You scrambled to your feet, the memory still fresh from the last time you hadn’t been there to greet him. He had panicked, refusing to leave your side for days. He held you then, whispering sweet words of devotion, his arms an unyielding cage, each word sinking deeper until it was all you knew. You didn’t know if he knew the truth – that every word bound you closer even as you longed to escape.  

Fear wrapped around you, yet somewhere deep within, in a place even you struggled to reach, you needed him. The years of isolation had stripped you bare, leaving only the two of you locked in this strange dance.  

Five years – five years of him as your only constant, your only company in this void. That had to be love. It was the only way to make sense of why you stayed, why you remained bound to him by something more powerful than chains.  

It had to be love.  

“Alastor,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, legs shaking from hours of kneeling on the hard floor, scrubbing away every crimson stain. You took a step forward, the chilling clink of metal grazing the wood beneath your feet with each uneven, hesitant step. The floorboards seemed to pulse below you, each creak an echo of your own heartbeat, until finally, you stopped, frozen four steps away from the exit.  

He chuckled – a warm, resonant sound that should have been comforting but only heightened the chill trickling down your spine. With graceful steps, Alastor closed the distance between you, his arms circling around your shoulders. His chin rested gently against your head, the weight of him grounding you in place, his presence washing over you like a tide you couldn’t escape.  

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into his embrace. The heat of him, the solid reassurance of his touch, brought you back to yourself, to the one undeniable truth of your existence: you were here, alive, because he held you tethered. “Did you have a good day at work, my love?” you murmured, soft and tentative.  

His hand slid over the back of your head; fingers gentle as he stroked you. He breathed in deeply, a wistful sigh slipping from his lips. “My love, you never left my thoughts for a single moment.” His voice was soft, warm, and his arms tightened around you, so tightly that for a second, you felt as though the air was slipping away.  

Finally, he parted, just enough for you to breathe again, his fingers grazing along the warm curve of your cheek. “Let’s get you out of that, hmm?” His voice was gentle, and his whisky-brown eyes glittered with a kindness that made your chest ache.  

A swell of relief surged in you, and you threw your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alastor, thank you!” Laughter bubbled out of you, bright and involuntary, stretching your lips into a smile that felt foreign, almost unbelievable after everything.  

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength both exhilarating and terrifying as he carried you toward the couch. Each step sent the faintest clinking of metal into the air, a reminder of the bond that held you captive.  

As he set you down and took a step back, you could feel his gaze moving over you, slow and deliberate, like he could peel back each layer with a single look. You flushed under his scrutiny, your shoulders curling inward, a strange blend of shame and need warring within you. Despite your clothes, under his gaze you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could read every thought you’d ever dared to keep from him.  

“Cher,” he murmured, his hand drifting over the outside of your calf, fingers tracing a path until they reached your ankle.  

You heard the fabric rustling, and then – there it was, glinting between his fingers: a silver key. Your eyes focused on the key, and your heart skipped, hope blooming like wildflowers in a barren field. The promise of freedom lay in that tiny object, so close and yet, a lifetime away. You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he took your ankle in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your bare foot. It was a reminder of the first time he’d ordered you to go without socks when you first escaped from this manacle.  

He slid the key into the lock, and with a single twist, the manacle opened with the same familiar click that marked his return home every day. The cool metal fell away, clattering weakly to the floor. A rush of air hit the skin beneath, and you winced as blood surged back into your ankle, a dull ache flooding back into limbs so long constrained.  

The shackles lay there, lifeless on the floor, the physical proof of your captivity now nothing more than a scrap of metal, stripped of its power. And yet, as you looked up at him, his eyes shining with something both possessive and achingly tender, you realized you could never truly cast off the chains that bound you to him.  

Not as long as you believe you loved him.  

“Oh, my poor cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice thick with a twisted blend of regret and possessive tenderness as his eyes traced the dark bruises wrapping around your ankle. His lips brushed softly over the tender skin, lingering in a gentle, reverent kiss before his forehead rested against your leg.  

With his eyes closed, he sighed, pressing warmth into you. “It pains me,” he whispered, “to see even the slightest mark of discomfort on you.” His lips began a slow journey, grazing from your ankle upward along the sensitive skin of your inner calf, each kiss stealing a shiver from you. “But you understand, don’t you, cher? It’s a necessity.” 

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, their intense gaze sending a shudder through you. His position – kneeling between your legs – made it impossible to think straight. Despite being in a servile pose, he was still the master of your heart.  

“Yes...I understand,” you managed, your voice raspy and barely audible. His lips continued their climb, each kiss leaving a cool, tingling path against your skin. “But I’ve been good, Alastor.” Your breath hitched as his head came to rest in your lap, his fingers tracing languid circles along your thigh.  

He chuckled softly, low and indulgent. “You have been,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “Perhaps if you continue to behave...I might let you roam freely around the house when I’m not here.” He looked up, giving you a small, playful smile that made your heart stutter.  

The thought of moving freely, without the heavy, omnipresent clink of the chain dragging behind you, sent a thrill through your veins. You clenched your hands into fists, desperate to keep your excitement contained.  

“I can be good,” you whispered, fingers drifting to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you stroked his head. “I can be good for you, Alastor...” 

A groan escaped him, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch, savouring the sensation like a man starving. Emboldened, you took a breath, letting words slip out – words you’d held back for so long, daring to hope he might grant them.  

“Maybe...” you hesitated, voice barely a murmur. “Maybe sometimes in the distant future, I could go into t-town with you?” Your fingers froze in his hair as his body tensed, muscles stiffening under your touch. You held your breath, dread and hope tangling within you, afraid you’d crossed some unseen line. Alastor’s overprotective streak was ironclad – whenever he sensed a threat, real or imagined, his vigilance would lock you down even more tightly than before.  

A heartbeat passed before he spoke. “Perhaps...” He rose to his feet slowly, drawing you up with him, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Perhaps one day, cher.” His hands slid under your legs, lifting you from the couch, his grip firm and desirous. “But for now...” he trailed off, leaving the sentence open, thick with suggestion as he carried you up the stairs.  

The scent of him, rich and intoxicating, filled your senses, mingling with the sharp, metallic undertone of old blood. Recently, he had brought up the idea of family, his eyes lighting with a dark kind of joy when he saw your loneliness. The house felt hollow most days, empty but for him, and he’d suggested a child - a little soul to fill the silent rooms.  

At first, the notion had left you reeling, uncertain, but the longer you were left alone with only your thoughts, the more the idea began to take root. Its appeal started to bloom uncontrollably like weeds in your mind.  

Now, Alastor and you spent every waking moment together in his bed, until your wishes took fruit.  

He lowered you onto the bed with an almost reverent tenderness, as though each touch was sacred, each look a silent promise. He shed his clothes slowly, his eyes never leaving you as his skin emerged, bare and raw. By the time he climbed onto bed, leaning over you, his desire was unmistakable – his cock hardening just from watching you laid out beneath him.  

He hovered for a moment, his face close to yours, and his gaze softened as his hand brushed along your cheek. “Cher,” he murmured, a plea woven into his tone, his voice low and thick. His fingers traced down the side of your face as though memorizing you by touch alone. “Will you let me...feel you tonight?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, slow and lingering, each word like a promise. “For the rest of the night?” His hips lowered, pressing himself against your thigh, his warmth branding you.  

Heat flared through you, your body’s response instant and shameless. Every part of you remembered him – his hands, his mouth, the way he claimed you until the world slipped away. Your body answered before your mind could, a warmth pooling low in your stomach as he lifted the hem of your dress, slowly baring your skin. You sat up, letting the fabric fall away, and his eyes flickered, his gaze dropping to your bare breasts. Your only cover now a thin piece of cloth hiding the most intimate part of you.  

Alastor’s grin widened, his gaze roving from the pebbled peaks of your nipples down to the damp fabric between your thighs. His hands traced down, catching the waistband and tugging it free. His touch lingered over each inch of exposed skin as he pulled it over your thighs, past the bruises on your ankle, until you lay just as bare before him.  

Your legs fell open, your slick folds glistening in invitation, your body traitorous in its eagerness. Alastor’s eyes darkened, his fingers tightening around his cock as he gripped himself, slow strokes stoking his own arousal as he stared, captivated by your wetness. 

“The thought of you carrying my child, cher...it drives me mad.” His voice was a rough whisper, his breaths shallow as he stroked himself harder, faster, his eyes on your throbbing core. “It drives me to the edge,” he murmured, his grin feral as he leaned closer, his gaze smouldering with dark intent. “Drives me to the point of bloodlust,” his adam’s apple bobbed up then down, his grin trembling as it couldn’t stretch further lest it tore through his cheeks.  

You swallowed, your pulse quickening at the edge of his words, at the memory of the shadows he kept hidden – the bloodstained cellar, the bodies you helped him to clean. Whether you were here or not, you knew he would continue to kill, as relentless and ruthless as ever.  

"Ah, cher,” he sighed, settling his body over yours, his hard length pressing flush against your entrance, teasing you with his warmth. “Cher, cher, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. “Why do you have to be so lovely?” His nose skimmed your hairline, nuzzling his way to your temple, where he pressed a slow, heated kiss. “Why do you tempt me like this?” 

“You’re all I think about, dream about,” he murmured, his voice honey-sweet as he pressed his mouth against your skin, each word a whisper trailing down your cheek, your neck, and finally, open-mouthed and lingering on the curve of your breast. “So much so, cher, that I sometimes imagine killing you.” His tone was soft, unsettlingly jovial as though he’d confessed a secret desire, his hands tracing delicate patterns over your skin.  

Your heart pounded, memories flashing across your mind like dark, haunted snapshots – the cellar door muffling desperate cries, the hollow silence that followed. The scent of blood hung thick in those memories, the darkness swallowing up the faces that haunted you. Your hands trembled, a pulse of fear mingling with something deeper, something you could barely acknowledge.  

“But I won’t,” he murmured against your skin, pulling you from the spiral of those memories. He lifted his hand to catch a tear that had slipped from your eye, his thumb brushing it away softly. He gazed at the glistening drop before licking it from his fingertip, his eyes darkened as he held you captive in his gaze. “I would never hurt you, cher. Have I ever hurt you?” His voice was quiet, coaxing yet intense, his question leaving no room for escape.  

His eyes burned into yours, searching, unwavering. “Tell me, cher,” he pressed, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with a demand that made your pulse stutter. “Do you see me as a bad man?”  

There were moments when Alastor felt so delicate, so gentle that he might as well have been made of glass, every touch featherlight. But there were others, moments like this, when he shifted – his possessive grip, his words, his gaze – all dark and consuming. When he asked these questions, you felt like a bird trapped in his cage, heart fluttering as you tried to find the right words.  

Your lips quivered, unable to form a reply, the silence thick as more tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor’s gaze softened just slightly, and he gathered you close, arms wrapping around you as he rocked you, as if you were a fragile, precious thing in his hold. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips against your hair, “I love you, cher. I love you, I love you,” he repeated, his voice lilting like a lullaby.  

Your mind fractured, the edge of your memories sharp, each fragment glinting in the dark recesses of your mind. You reached out within yourself, searching, groping for the piece of you that had loved him first – the man you’d met one hazy night at the speakeasy, the man who seemed to light up the room just by existing.  

Slowly, you let your hands drift to his back, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his skin. Your eyes closed, more tears slipping free as you tried to remember the feeling of joy, of laughter that you’d felt with him. Your lips brushed against his shoulder, a tentative sign of trust as he sighed, his body relaxing under your touch.  

You dug deeper, sifting through memories of that laughter, of your first dance, your first kiss – all those quiet, gentle confessions that had once coloured his eyes in soft brows. You found yourself on your knees, clutching at those fragments with desperate hands, determined to recall the moments when his touch had felt safe, cherished.  

“Shh,” Alastor’s mouth hovered over yours, his lips ghosting against yours, a barely there whisper of warmth. “It’s alright, cher. I have you.” He guided himself against you, pressing gently, his cock slipping slowly into your wet, pulsing heat. His mouth melded to yours as his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, savouring each taste as his low moans mingled with your soft gasps.  

A hum escaped him, rich and satisfied, as he sank into you, his body pressed to yours, filling you with a quiet intensity that left you breathless. The salted trails on your cheeks lingered as your lips curved into a slow smile, your legs parting, welcoming him deeper, your heart opening despite everything, the echoes of his whispers filling the night.  

“Good girl,” Alastor groaned, his hips pushing forward, stretching you around the hard, unyielding thickness of him. “Oh, cher, you’re perfect for me,” he murmured, his words a deep, reverent moan as he sank in deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely enveloped. His hands settled possessively on your hip, his eyes devouring the sight of you.  

“I’m going to fill you with my seed all night, love,” he purred, rolling his hips with a languid, maddening rhythm. “After all, your body is begging me to take you – wouldn't you say?” His voice rose with playful amusement, the bed creaking beneath you as if echoing his delight.  

“Yes,” you gasped, breathless, the sensation of him making you tremble. “Please,” you whispered, your nails pressing into his shoulders, urging him closer. Alastor drew his hips back slowly, agonizingly, until only the tip of him remained, only to push back in, the pace deliberate, every inch of him dragging against you with intent. Each movement seemed to ignite a new flame within you, stretching your pleasure, drawing it out until it was almost unbearable.  

“Look how good you are for me,” he whispered against your flushed cheek, his lips tracing his words into your skin. “Look how perfect you are,” he breathed, sinking deeper as he tightened his arms around you, locking you into his rhythm. “No one will understand you the way I do. You were destined to be mine.” His voice was rich, warm, but tinged with darkness that was both thrilling and terrifying.  

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, each thrust stoking the tension building inside, reaching deeper, pulling you into a spiral of desire and delirium. His moans, his heated words, his relentless pace – all of it washed over you like a fevered dream. Each breath, each sigh and whispered praise tangled together in a symphony of need.  

The creaking of the bed became louder, and with a sudden surge, he lifted himself, teeth gritted, and drove into you harder. His hips snapped against yours; his pace relentless.  

“Cher...cher...” he growled, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he focused on you, his gaze hungry. “That’s right, cher,” he chuckled breathlessly, each laugh broken by the sound of his hips smacking against your own. “Oh, you’d make a perfect mother,” he panted, his words nearly incoherent as he picked up his pace. The final thrust left you both gasping, his grip on you tightening as he finally reached his own release, filling you with powerful, pulsing bursts of warmth.  

You moaned in frustration, your pleasure still simmering, unsatisfied, leaving your skin taut with need. You tried to move, but Alastor held you firmly, pressing himself deep inside, his body still wrapped around yours.  

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face as he slowly softened within you, the warm rush of his seed starting to trickle down. When he finally withdrew, his fingers slipped to your entrance, pressing lightly to try and keep every last drop inside, as if marking you as his.  

Lying on his side beside you, he gazed at you, his expression gentle as he took in your flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, still needy with unfulfilled desire. A smile tugged at his lips when you also turned to your side to face him. His eyes drifted down, and you knew he was watching his own essence escape, sluggishly slipping down and pooling on your inner thighs. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, cher,” he said quietly, his voice low and calming. “I’ll take care of you, again and again, tonight.” He withdrew his fingers, now slicked with his and your arousal. “Until your body takes my seed, we’ll keep trying,” he promised, his gaze flickering down between you both before meeting yours with a playful, boyish grin.  

With a breath that finally began to steady, you raised a hand to his face, touching his cheek tenderly. He turned to press a gentle kiss to your palm, a quiet moment of warmth shared in the aftermath.  

In moments like these, in the field of fractured memories, you saw one shard glinting brighter than the rest, pulling you toward it. It was a piece of you – something essential, something more truthful and dangerous than anything else. It shimmered with dark clarity, cutting through the shadows of doubt and lingering despair. 

You drifted past the memories that still haunted you, not quite registering the images that flooded your mind. Alastor’s eyes, once warm, turning nearly black with fury the night you tried to leave, his grip like iron as he vowed you’d belong to him. You passed by the moment he chained you to the cellar walls, his victims mere echoes in the darkness, his voice soothingly venomous, telling you that no one else could ever understand you as he did.  

Each scar those memories left on your soul was still fresh, a raw edge in the depths of your mind, fragments of yourself that would never heal.  

But in this one shard – this singular piece of undeniable truth – you saw something more. It was in these quiet, raw moments after he’d loved you, held you close, his breath mingling with yours. It was here, next to him in the aftermath, that you could almost believe he was the only soul in this world who would ever love you with such consuming fervour.  

You dragged your body closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as his arms immediately circled protectively around you. His eyes softened as you leaned closer, drawing him into a gentle kiss. Your lips grazing his in a tender, slow exchange that felt achingly real. His fingers traced up and down your back, as if branding his name on your skin.  

In this quiet, lonely world, he was your guiding light, a burning soul who consumed all but left you somehow whole. You wanted to hold on to him, to keep him by your side. You feared whatever darkness lurked beyond Alastor, the fear of the unknown paled in comparison to the thought of leaving the one person who had vowed to love every fractured, scarred piece of you.  

He needed you, just as much as you needed him.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[imitationgame77]

Progression of intimacy in Artificial Condition

Cycle 1

MB: After the events of All System Red, spent 7 cycles on a bot piloted transport, then embarks an unmanned ship, thinking it only has a low-level bot pilot.

ART: Readily responds to MB's ping, and accept media in exchange for passage to RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, letting MB to believe that it is just a bot pilot. It admits later that it was curious about a rogue SecUnit trying to travel on its own.

ART: Waits until MB settles down and start watching media before suddenly addressing it via its feed, and reveals its true self by dropping the wall for 0.0001 of a second.

MB: Instantly recognizes its power and implicit threat and withdraws. When ART, not understanding MB's strong reaction, tells it not to sulk, it fires back and sends a file showing its experience of torture as a SecUnit.

ART: Stays silent for 5 minutes, and then apologizes for having frightened it. [For omniscient machine intelligence like ART, we now realize that is a VERY long time. It was probably shocked by the cruelty experienced by a SecUnit, and digging up extensive information on SecUnits and how they are treated in Corporation Rim. Also analyzing why MB was reacting the way it was.] Then withdraws behind its wall, giving MB space.

MB: Watches 3 episodes of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, while trying to calm itself. Then starts to see the event from the transport's point of view. [This demonstrates its ability to understand the world from other person's point of view, known in psychology as Theory of Mind, lack of which is considered to be indicator of autism spectrum.]

Art: After further 6 episodes, quietly re-enters MB's feed, and lurks there while MB watches 7 more episodes. [No idea how long an episode is, but even if it is about 30 minutes, ART was patiently watching MB watch its favourite show at least for 3-4 hours without interruption!] Then politely pings MB to request to watch the new serial World Hoppers. When refused, repeats the request after 2 minutes. And explains that it cannot usually understand the context of media, and watching through MB's filter gives it the context and understanding.

MB and ART start watching World Hoppers together

Cycle 2~

MB: While watching World Hoppers (3 times) and other media (hundreds of hours), comes to see how ART is attached to its humans, and begins to feel "charitable" towads it, letting it to watch a potentially traumatizing episode 1 or 2 minutes at a time. Also comes to understand it well enough to create a content filter.

[There is no mention of specific time span, but it must have taken at least a few cycles to view all that media, even without recharge cycle]

ART: After 4 episodes of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, by which point ART had noticed that it was MB's favourite show, it asks if the serial has a SecUnit character. Subsequent conversation (reluctantly, on MB's side) reveals that MB does not like SecUnits in the way they are used, and even portrayed in media, because it is unrealistic, but not in a good way.

ART proceeds to ask why MB is there, surprising it because MB had assumed that the transport had no interest in it. MB reveals its brief history with PreservationAux but reluctant to talk any further. ART confesses that it is not supposed to pick up unauthorized passenger, saying that they both have a secret. MB goes as far as to admit it is going to RaviHyral Mining Facility for research, but would not say any more. And when pressed, proceeds to start a shut-down cycle.

[When MB wakes up 4 hours later, ART immediately resumes argument, calling the shut-down a childish behaviour. With ART's processing capacity, managing travel through a wormhole would not take up much. Probably lots of speculative thoughts were going through its mind while also probably looking up on everything about the Mining Facility and SecUnits, as well as past newsfeeds on Mensah's team.]

ART does not drop the subject. It presses MB saying that it should share its plans as they are now friends. MB tries to convince the transport and itself that constructs and bots can never be friends as they may have to act against each other if their humans command them. ART simply points out that there are no humans now. Eventually, MB relents and tells ART what happened at RaviHyral Mining Facility before the partial memory purge around the time of Governor Module hack. Discussion with ART gives MB new perspectives. [It is around this point that MB decides to call the transport ART, short for Asshole Research Transport. ART does not show any negative response regarding MB's grim past]

ART points out the risk of being spotted as a rogue SecUnit at RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, much to MB's dismay. [MB talks of "ART was doing that thing again where it asked me questions it knew the answer to so it could trap me into admitting stuff I didn't want to admit. I decided to skip to the end." This passage indicates that perhaps more conversations had taken place prior to this, and like a good university instructore, ART was manipulating guiding MB's thought processes, and MB had noticed it.]

ART suggests configuration change which horrifies MB. ART points out that its survival as a rogue SecUnit is at stake, and makes it realize that if it wants to survive and meet the PreservationAux people again, it needs to make sure it does not get caught as a rogue Unit. MB thinks it over 2 cycles, during which time ART says nothing more about it, watching media together. During the same period, MB tries to see if it can look less like a SecUnit by creating codes to make itself behave like a human. MB asks ART to record its movement, but realizes that it still looked like a SecUnit, as it meets the unit standard size which can be spotted by a scan.

[ART loves being right, but it shows genuine desire to help it survive, and tries to get MB to realize the importance itself. Probably having learned MB's character and its past (at least in part), once having given suggestions, it simply waits (and trusts) until MB comes to make the choice itself.]

Unspecified Cycle

MB and ART argued a lot over what should be done to change MB's configuration from the unit standard. ART even suggests giving it sex related organ which MB vehemently rejects.

ART performs configuration change on MB.

While MB is still incapacitated ART does search on RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, narrowing down the likely place of incident to Ganaka Pit.

There is no mention of time frame from the configuration change to the arrival at the destination. However, based on the facts that they seemed to know about each other a lot by Network Effect, they must have spent some quality time together talking, as well as watching media. Once they have reached RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, they stayed together by the Comm feed, but most of their attention was on protection of the three young humans.

Cycle 21-23?

They reach RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station. ART suggests that MB takes on a temporary job as a security consultant (augumented human) in order to gain legitimate way to access installation site and helps it with preparation. MB protects its first voluntarily taken clients and does a lot more than what is required as a security consultant. It also manages to find out what really happened at Ganaka Pit where the incident happened before its memory purge. Throughout, ART stays with MB, keeping company, offering tactical and morale support, except when it was in Ganaka Pit and out of comm range. When they finally part company, ART tells it to keep its Comm in case they may come within the range again, to which MB could only send an acknowledgement, as it feared it would get too emotional if tried to speak.

Rogue Protocol; Exit Strategy; Fugitive Telemetry

In all the books whose timeline come between Artificial Condition and Network Effect, MB mentions ART several times, indicating that it was thinking of its friend frequently and misses it.

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

Not explicitly written interactions that solidified the basis for their friendship "mutual administrative assistance" probably happened from around the time of the configuration change and arrival at the station. By the time MB starts its security consultant job, they seem significantly more comfortable with each other than before. Some indications are:

MB admits that the only important thing while at RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station was ART's comm interface.

MB could tell ART was withholding something by its a few seconds of pause and pressed it, and ART admits it has debris deflection systsm.

MB allows ART full access to its brain in order to let it use it as a bridge to reach the shuttle's control. Twice. MB has guarded its mind tightly ever since it hacked the governor module. It disliked Gurathin because he accessed it while MB was shut down, which he found as violation of privacy. Even with different circumstances, with more urgency, MB does not hesitate much nore does it seem to mind that it had to allow ART full access.

When MB was distressed at Tapan's questions about its "augumentation" after investigation into Ganaka Pit incident, ART plays soundtracks of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon for MB, which calms it down. It knows that the serial is a kind of security blanket to MB.

Before meeting ART's crew in Network Effect, MB had already known that Iris was ART's favourite human.

ART was telling its crew about MB, without going into details about their adventure on RaviHyral, but in such a way that its favourite human had thought of MB as "Peri's SecUnit".

ART entrusted its fate to MB when its existence was at stake. Not to its colleagues from university. Nobody else could have rescued it except MB.

The first thing it said to MB when it came back online after deletion was, "I'm not going to hurt your humans, you little idiot", which sounds extremely affectionate.

Their mutual feelings (despite MB being very angry at the time) were apparent enough that Rhatti, only shortly after hearing them interact briefly, called it "a relationship" which horrifies MB.

Overall, they exhibit deep level of mutual affection from the moment they are reunited in Network Effect, which suggests their intimacy had progressed rapidly even before arriving at RaviHyral. Also, probably "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was also the case. ART must have been keeping track of MB's doings as much as it could. Otherwise it could not have known that it was then working with Arada at the time of kidnapping!

[lilac-witch]

Opalescence - Azriel x Reader

masterlist

Summary: A visit to the esteemed day court sets the Mother's plans for a certain shadowsinger in motion. Meaning: "a unique gem that can pick up all colours of the spectrum depending on the light" Word Count: +1k Warnings: None

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

The Day Court was the polar opposite of the Courts of Night. Sunshine illuminated every corner of the vast land. The golden palaces gleamed in the light, appearing like masses of molten metal.

"Welcome, my friends!"

The booming voice of the High Lord of Day broke Azriel's trance, his eyes squinting to look past the glowing light that inevitably followed Helion wherever he went.

"Thank you for the invitation, Helion. We are extremely grateful to be offered a few days of sanctuary and relaxation," his High Lord replied, his tone as cool as the breeze that wove through Velaris.

"Ah well, I would be lying if I didn't say my intentions were slightly selfish," Helion replied, winking in the direction of himself and Mor.

Before Azriel had the chance to roll his eyes, a gentle yet firm voice echoed through the space.

"Come now, Uncle. No one wants to be subjected to your atrocious flirting."

A figure emerged from behind Helion's colossal bronze body.

A female, with skin as pale as quartz, brown hair that glowed gold in the sun, and eyes that reflected the molten gold of the Day Court palaces.

"Ah, nieceling, you wound me."

The inner circle's eyes widened in shock. No one had been aware that Helion's long-dead sister, Mother protect her soul, had conceived a child.

The female's attention shifted from her uncle to the inner circle, before finally resting on the hazel of Azriel's eyes.

"It's wonderful to finally make your acquaintance. My uncle has told me all about you, some things I wish he had rather kept to himself," she said, shooting a look at the grinning High Lord.

"Forgive us, my lady, but we happen to know nothing about you."

The female turned to Rhys, a soft smile on her effortlessly beautiful face.

"There is nothing to forgive. My uncle likes to keep me private, although his attempts are becoming more and more futile. My name is Y/n," she said, once again shooting a look at Helion, who had now grown seemingly bashful.

Her attention returned to Azriel, and his skin felt an immeasurable warmth, as though he had been bathed in pure sunshine.

Their eyes remained locked throughout the rest of the introductions, until only he remained unknown.

"And your name, lord of shadows?"

Her voice was like music to his ears, his shadows twirling about in excitement at being acknowledged.

"Azriel, my lady. But I am no lord."

Y/n nodded, her lips turning upwards slightly, before turning to follow her uncle through the maze of halls.

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

Three days later, Azriel once again found himself in Y/n's company.

He had been wandering through the palace before he stumbled upon one of the hundreds of libraries that called Day Court home. Now, Azriel busied himself with filtering through the shelves of leather-bound novels, looking for something to occupy his time.

"That is one of my favourites."

Azriel almost dropped the book he was holding. His shadows hadn't alerted him of another's presence, and he hadn't heard any footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

He turned, coming face to face with the golden-eyed female who had been haunting his thoughts, thoughts that had previously been occupied by Elain Archeron.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, lips tilting to the side in an attempt not to laugh at the situation.

"Did I scare you, Shadowsinger?"

Azriel found himself at a loss for words as he gazed upon her. She wore a black jumpsuit, a common colour between the Day and Night Courts, accompanied by golden jewellery that was the same shade as her eyes.

Azriel cleared his throat, a light blush forming on his cheeks.

"I, uhm, didn't hear you coming, my lady."

She waved him off. "Please, call me Y/n. I hate formalities."

Azriel nodded, his hands still grasping the book tightly.

Y/n glanced down at the book, and then looked back into his eyes.

"Can you still feel the heat of the flames?"

Azriel's mouth fell open in shock.

"I apologize if that was too forward. It's just that your hands appeared to have been burned..." she said, her face warming slightly.

"Yes," Azriel breathed. "Sometimes, it feels like I'm reliving that night..."

Azriel watched as she attempted to take a step towards him before hesitating. Azriel willed the flinch he felt to not appear physically through his body.

A moment later, Y/n stepped forward, her hands outstretched.

"May I?"

It was Azriel's turn to hesitate. His hands were his biggest insecurity, his greatest disappointment. They were a horror to gaze upon, a horror to feel, and a horror to remember. So many awful things had occurred to his hands, and his hands in turn had done so many awful things.

"Azriel?"

He snapped out of the daze, gazing into those pools of molten gold. Swallowing hard, Azriel shakily placed his hands into Y/n's awaiting palms.

Moments passed with the pair standing with intertwined hands, gazes locked on one another. But then Y/n's hand began to glow with a soft, golden light.

Azriel's expression morphed to one of shock as he watched the scene unfold, as he felt a cooling sensation flow through the scarred flesh.

"I could heal them if you want, but I think the scars provide proof of great strength and resilience," she said as soft as the first winter's snow.

Azriel returned his attention to Y/n's face. It was then that he felt it. That magnificent warmth and pull of fate. A mating bond that glowed gold, like the female before him. The female at the other end of the bond.

Azriel dropped to his knees as tears of joy clouded his eyes.

"Mate..." he said with disbelief. Disbelief at the blessing the Mother had presented him with after so much torment.

He watched as Y/n kneeled before him, taking his face gently in her hands, her thumbs brushing the stray tears away.

"Yes," she said, smile as bright as the sun. "If you'll have me."

The mating bond thrummed with a multitude of colours, resembling the whirlwind of emotions felt between its two participants.

Azriel had been alone in the dark for so long But now, there was someone to guide him back into the light.

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

HI lovelies! When I tell you I've had this ingrained in my head for weeks, and I've been dying to write it out! I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting so long, but I promise to do my best to get content out. Gossamer will be released sometime tomorrow, so you'll have two new reads for the weekend! I hope you're all doing well... until next time ;)

p.s. Don't forget my inbox is open to any and all requests!

[cielcreations]

Spectrum's Doll (VSAU Story)

Based off/Inspiration from the amazing @rhapsoddity and their Vigilante Sheriff AU as well as their Head Empty Sheriff AU! Their art and story is just *chef's kiss* Definitely check them and their stuff out, it's amazing and lovely and I just can't get over it.

Also, implied hermit/empireshipping in this story. Nothing too drastic, just characters mentioning how they were exes or how they like each other, but still, it's there.

Also, also, TRIGGER WARNING: Hypnosis/Mind Control. That's kinda the whole point of this story. Cool? Cool.

When Stratos asked Sheriff for help in finding Sausage, he didn't think he would have to make a trade, intentionally or not.

Sheriff tied the llama hybrid up, the man struggling the whole time.

"Are your informants really reliable? It just seems like no one is here." Stratos asked, "Well, besides Spectrum's minions."

"Yes, I'm sure my information is correct, my informants wouldn't give me false info or lie." Sheriff said. They may be pigeons, but they see everything. He thought. He put the llama hybrid against the wall, who continued to struggle.

"You won't get away with this." The man hissed.

"Hey, that's my line!" Sheriff teased, taking out a deputy's badge sticker and sticking it on his head, "Boop!"

Stratos rolled his eyes before he and Sheriff moved to the next room of the warehouse. It was dark, making the two already on edge. Suddenly, a single light flipped on, revealing Sausage.

"Sausage!" Stratos ran over.

"Wait, Stratos, be careful, I don't like this! It could be a trick!" Sheriff exclaimed, taking out another lasso.

"Oh, don't be uptight, it's Sausage, he wouldn't hurt-" Stratos stopped in his tracks as the brunette lifted his hand, a large vine nearly stabbing him but only brushing past his cheek, "-me..."

"What the-?!" Sheriff watched as Sausage began to fight Stratos, the hero dodging and yelling at the other to stop. He took out his grabbling hook, spinning it in his hand, "That's Sanctuary's power! How could Spectrum use it? Unless Sausage is- oh god, that would make sense, but then why-"

"Too many questions~" Someone whispered in his ear, hugging his arm and wrapping their arm around his shoulder, "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours~ Just sink deeper and listen to me~"

Sheriff blinked as the colors in the room began to blur. He groaned and pulled away from the person quickly. His vision was slightly clouded by a mix of colors, but he fought against it, seeing the colorful villain. He had teal hair with heterochromia eyes, one teal and one orange. He wore a simple black bodysuit with a chest window, black jeans, and a colorful jacket, his black mask covering his face.

"Woah man, take me to dinner first!" Sheriff laughed, trying to ground himself.

"Gladly!" The villain, Spectrum, smiled, "But I don't think this location is very fitting!"

The colors moved and Sheriff saw tables and chairs appear around them. He groaned, holding his head and focusing on Spectrum. If he did that, he could see the warehouse, he could hear Stratos's yelling and Sausage using his power. He needed to focus.

"I-I'm flattered, but one shouldn't mix work with play-!" He groaned.

Spectrum stepped forward, "Awwww, come on handsome, a little break wouldn't-" He gasped, stepping back to dodge one of Sheriff's punches, the dirty blonde dropping his lasso and grappling hook, "Oh, so you like it rough, huh?"

"Gotta keep you on your toes, don't I?" Sheriff chuckled, trying to punch him again.

Spectrum dodged. Sheriff couldn't tell if he was moving slower or if Spectrum was just that fast, but he kept trying to hit him. He focused on fighting Spectrum, the villain seeming to get more bored by the minute.

"You know, I'm surprised and impressed you managed to endure this for so long!" Spectrum cooed, stepping out of the way.

Sheriff panted, smirking, kind of proud of himself, "Yeah, well, I know villains like you prefer a show and I don't mind an audience!"

Spectrum again dodged, managing to get behind Sheriff, "That's cute, but we should really wrap this up." He kicked the dirty blonde in the back, Sheriff stumbling and falling to his knees, "I don't do this for everyone, but you're quite a special case!"

Spectrum moved in front of Sheriff, cupping his cheeks, "Now, do me a favor and scream."

Sheriff gasped as he was blinded by colors, a voice in his head telling him to give in, to let go, to relax, to let Spectrum in. He tried to resist it, he tried to think of things to ground himself. Norman, Flick, he two cats. Grian, his awesome brother when he's not being annoying. Sausage, Sausage still needs help! And Stratos needs him and-

"Stop thinking. You don't need to. Let me do all the work." Spectrum's voice rang in his head.

Tears formed in Sheriff's eyes as they fluttered. He tried to fight back, but the voices telling him to give in overtook him. He closed his eyes as tears ran down his cheeks.

Spectrum groaned, holding his head as he looked down at the dirty blonde, Damn, why did I have to use so much power on him?! He thought. He stared down at the other and smiled, cooing as he wiped the tears away. Sheriff's blue eyes were glowing purple, a blank look on his face.

"Nothing but a cute little doll." He giggled before looking at Sausage and Stratos.

Spectrum smirked, picking Sheriff up bridal style before slipping out of the room. He blinked and laughed, seeing the llama hybrid still struggling in the ropes.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up! Your arm candy is stronger than he looks!" The brunette hissed.

"Oh, I know, trust me, Owen." Scott walked over, using a knife to cut him loose, "Come on, I got what I want. The hypnosis on Sausage will wear off the farther I get away."

Owen looked at Sheriff in his arms, "Oh my god, you must've used a lot of power. There are no thoughts behind those eyes!"

"That's the point!" Spectrum chuckled, "He was really good at resisting, even tried to put up a fight. But when I finally got him to stop thinking, he finally was mine!"

The two continued chatting, slipping into the night, disappearing with Sheriff.

***

"Home sweet home, my doll!" Spectrum giggled as he placed the dirty blonde on his bed, Owen rolling his eyes.

"I'm stealing your bathroom for an hour." He grabbed his civilian clothes, walking to the door.

"That's fine! I'll be here!" Spectrum giggled as the brunette closed the door. He smiled, removing his mask and jacket, placing them on a chair.

"Yo, Scott, I heard Owen." His bedroom door open as his sibling came in, "How did- oh, you got him."

"Xornoth, this is Sheriff!" Scott exclaimed, making Sheriff turn to face his sibling, "Sheriff, say hi!"

Sheriff lifted his hand and waved a bit.

Xornoth rolled their eyes, "Whatever. Just keep an eye on him."

"I will! He's going to just be either arm candy or a doll!"

"Yeah, I get that, but you also let your toys wander, sometimes. Just keep him away from my stuff."

"I will, geeeeez!"

"You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I-"

"Scott." Xornoth looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Are you okay? Injured? Broken?"

Scott chuckled, "I'm fine, Xornoth. Head hurts a bit from using too much of my power, but I'm fine."

"Kay. Just making sure." Xornoth waved, "Alright, I'm going back to terrorizing 10 year olds."

"Have fun!" Scott called as they shut the door and left.

Scott then changed into some pajamas before facing Sheriff, who was still staring at where Xornoth once was. He chuckled, tilting his head to face him. He removed the dirty blonde's hat, vest, and scarf, placing them on a chair before opening his closet.

"What to put you in...?" He hummed, "Hmmm... I mean, I could leave you in boxers, what do you think?" He chuckled, laughing at his own joke.

"Mmmn-"

Scott turned and saw Sheriff's face was twisted.

"H-H-Huuuh-"

"Shhhhhhh~" Scott cooed, quickly closing the distance between them, holding the other's cheeks, "No thinking for you~ Just sit there looking pretty~"

Sheriff slipped easily, his face relaxing as he once again fell under Scott's control. Damn, even now, he's still trying to fight. I have to watch what I say and order of him if me asking what he thinks can bring him back. Scott turned back to the closet, deciding a clean white shirt was all Sheriff needed.

He unbuttoned the dirty blonde's shirt and widened his eyes. Winged... surgery scars...? He looked at Sheriff's back, eyes getting bigger, Small canary wings...?! Scott was in shock before he gently removed Sheriff's mask.

"Holy- Is that-?!" Scott cupped the dirty blonde's cheeks before smiling brightly, "Oh, my god! Jimmy Solidarity Gaming is Sheriff, aye?! That's so cool! No wonder I like you so much!" He then put the new white shirt on the dirty blonde, unbuttoning and removing his jeans, "We sure live in a small world, huh? That's crazy! I can't believe you became a vigilante! And a confident flirter too! I guess that's my doing, you're welcome everyone! I mean, I am sorry I have to take this handsome hunk off the streets, but he's miiiiiiine~!" Scott giggled. 

Owen walked out, sighing, "Alright, I'm done.

"Thank you so much for your hard work, Own! You're dismissed, minion!" Scott teased, playfully clapping his hands together, "That will be all!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going!" Owen laughed, waving as he left, "See ya tomorrow!"

"See ya!" Scott chuckled.

He smiled, looking at Solidarity's face, still blank. He gently laid the other down laying beside him.

"Cuddle me."

The dirty blonde did.

Scott smiled, "So handsome, doll. And all mine. Go ahead and sleep."

Solidarity's eyes fluttered closed and Scott smiled. He turned off the lights and fell asleep himself.

***

Stratos paced, biting his bottom lip, occasionally biting his nail anxiously, his whole body stiff.

"Stratos, please calm down..." Sanctuary tried.

"I-I just can't, I'm sorry!" Stratos groaned, "I-I mean, Sheriff helped me find you and now Spectrum has him! He's been missing for three weeks and-"

"Excuse me!" The two turned as two heroes came towards them, the avian placing down the brunette, "Stratos, Sanctuary, pleasure to see ya!"

"Hey, Hotguy, Cuteguy." Stratos smiled.

Sanctuary waved a bit, "Thanks again for the help, Hotguy!"

"Of course. Actually, speaking of help, um... Cuteguy?"

The dirty blonde seemed hesitant, nervous even, anxious? "...Um, well... I was wondering, do you guys happen to know someone in your civilian forms? His name is Jimmy or he sometimes goes by Solidarity?"

"Yeah, we do! Why?"

"He's missing."

"WHAT?!" The two yelled.

"Wait, wait, wait, how do you know this?!"

"Well, Solidarity is m-"

"What he means to say-" Hotguy interrupted, "-is that Cuteguy and Solidarity are really close in civilian form!"

"Uh, yeah, right!" Cuteguy exclaimed, "Anyways, I went to check on him two weeks ago cause he wasn't answering me and we had plans, but he wasn't there. I tried calling, texting, calling his and my friends, no one knew. I looked everywhere and his cats..." He sighed, "His cats kept meowing and whining at me. I fed and gave them water and they acted like they hadn't been fed in days. Which is just not Solidarity! He would never just disappear on me! And he loves those cats more than anything, he would put them over everything else in an instant! There's no way he would just abandon them!"

Sanctuary nodded, standing up, "Listen, we'll help you find Solidarity, but can you guys help us find Sheriff?"

"Sheriff? The vigilante?" Hotguy asked, "Isn't he, like, your archenemy, Stratos?"

Stratos looked away, "I owe him. He awas the one who helped me find Sanctuary, but... Spectrum took him while I got Sanctuary back. He's been missing for three weeks."

Cuteguy flapped his wings, beginning to fly, "Okay, so Solidarity and Sheriff, right? I'll do a sweep of the city again, just to make sure neither of them are hiding in plain sight and we just overlooked them."

"I'll come with." Stratos flew to stand (float?) beside him.

"Hotguy and I will ask if anyone has seen them and for details. We'll meet up in a couple hours."

The four split up and began searching.

As the sun began to set and the moon rose, the sky darkened. Stars shined in the night sky as the four met up once more, sharing what little information they had. No one has seen either of the men, and no one had any idea where they could possible be.

"Uggggh!" Cuteguy groaned, "Dammit!"

"Woah, calm down Cute-"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Hotguy!" The dirty blonde hissed, "Ti- Jimmy is missing and no one has seen him, he just poofed out of existence and I can't do anything about it."

"Actually, I know where he is."

The four turned and immediately became on edge.

"Hephaestus!" Stratos glared, "What're you doing here?!"

"Not here to fight!" The redhead exclaimed, "Temporary truce?"

"Yeah right-"

"I know where Sheriff and possible Solidarity is being held."

The four widened their eyes and looked at each other, before back at the redhead.

"And why should we trust you?!" Sanctuary exclaimed.

"Spectrum kidnapped you as part of his big plan, knowing Stratos would come for you. And Sheriff being Sheriff helped Stratos saved you, but Spectrum now has him. Right?"

"How do you know all this-"

"Doesn't matter, he took Sheriff and he also has Solidarity, but I don't exactly know where he's keeping him since I've only seen Spectrum lugging Sheriff around."

"If you know this, why ask us to help you?" Hotguy questioned.

Hephaestus looked away, "Well... truth is, me and Sheriff have some... history. We know each other in our civilian forms but our relationship is... complicated." He looked at them again, "But that doesn't matter. Spectrum has him deep under hypnosis and I won't be able to bring him back alone. Even if I could, I doubt he'd listen to me. I need your help to bring him back. And I can help you find Solidarity."

Cuteguy bit his bottom lip. He summoned an axe and pointed it at the other, "If you're lying, I will actually kill you."

"Noted. Now, come on, this way."

Hephaestus led the way, the four heroes following him, albeit from a bit of a distance. They arrived at a warehouse, the five standing on the roof and looking through the roof windows. The lights showed Spectrum, his orange clad sidekick, and a dirty blonde sitting on a box.

"Who-"

Hephaestus broke the window with his giant robot hands and fell through, glaring, "Spectrum, give Sheriff back."

"Hephaestus..." Spectrum glared, "I should have know you would find me eventually, you've always been obsessed with Sheriff."

"I'M OBSESSED?!" The redhead growled, pointing at the other, his giant robot hand doing the same, "You made a whole plan to kidnap a hero, just in case Sheriff would show up as support, and then kidnapped him instead so you can have some fake boyfriend!"

"Oh, he's not fake, he's my real boytoy!" He then looked at Sheriff, smirking, "Right, dollface?"

Sheriff merely nodded, blank face.

"Son of a-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Stratos yelled as the heroes stoof beside Hephaestus, "That's Sheriff?!"

The dirty blonde's hair was brushed back, a little diamond clip holding back his bangs. He wore a simple sleeveless black bodysuit with black arm bands, black jeans, purple boots, and a purple belt.

Hotguy drew his bow, Cuteguy summoning a weapin beside him, "You and your sidekick surrender now, Spectrum. It's five against two, you're outnumbered."

"You're right, we are outnumbered, but you're mistaken. It's five against three." Spectrum smirked, "Handsome, take care of Hephaestus and Stratos for me."

Sheriff stood and unlatched a black lasso from his belt, spinning it.

"Sheriff, listen to me, you don't-"

The dirty blonde interrupted Sanctuary by wrapping the lasso around Stratos and throwing him into Hephaestus.

"Sheriff, stop-!" Cuteguy called before he noticed the colors start to move. He groaned, closing his eyes as he flew up, "Hotguy, be careful!"

Hotguy seemed unaffected by the colors, smirking, letting his vex wings out, "Sorry, colorful man, doesn't affect me."

"That's fine, I got three of you distracted." Spectrum smirked, "Orange, take care of Sanctuary."

"You got it!" The llama hybrid snickered.

Spectrum took out a knife, Hotguy trying to shoot at him, trying to disorientate him. Spectrum easily dodged it and got close, trying to slash at the other. Cuteguy kicked Spectrum back, the colorful villain looking at the avian and trying to manipulate him. Cuteguy groaned and held his head, closing his eyes once more. It was a dance of Hotguy and Spectrum fighting with one another, Cuteguy trying to step in only to close his eyes to not get effected by the hypnosis. Orange and Sanctuary got in a heated fist fight, Orange also using a knife to cut the vines Sanctuary summoned.

Meanwhile, Sheriff was using his own weapons, trying to stop Stratos and Hephaestus, mainly trying to lasso one of them and then throwing them into the other. Hephaestus stayed back, knowing how dangerous his weapons could be and mainly acting as support as Stratos tried to grab Sheriff or dodged the dirty blonde's attacks. Stratos flew forward and pinned him down on the ground, the brunette staring into Sheriff's eyes.

"Sheriff, come on! Don't let Spectrum take over you! You're stronger than this! Come on, get out of your head!" Stratos yelled at him. 

Sheriff blinked, the glow in his eyes flicking.

"Sheriff?!" Hephaestus called, kneeling beside Stratos, "Come on, Sheriff! You're an idiot, but you're not weak! Come on!"

Sheriff groaned, eyes twitching as the glowing dimmed more, "N-Nnnngh-!"

Spectrum looked over and growled. He kicked Hotguy in the stomach, the hero groaning. He then threw him towards Cuteguy, both yelping as Spectrum ran over to the other two. He manipulated the colors, Stratos and Hephaestus groaning. Spectrum pulled Sheriff away from the two, the dirty blonde groaning.

"Nnngh, w-wha-"

"Shhhhhh~" Spectrum cooed, "Shhhh, shhhh, no thinking for you, dollface~ Calm down, slip deep again~"

Sheriff panted as he tried to fight a bit, but he easily gave in, face blank once more as he once again turned numb.

"You-!" Hephaestus growled, his eyes narrowing.

"He wants to stay with me, Hephaestus. Right, Sheriff?" Spectrum stood up, holding Sheriff's hand and standing him up.

Sheriff nodded.

"See? He wants me, not you."

"That's it!" Hephaestus held one of his arms up, pressing a couple buttons, "Stratos, cover your ears."

"Huh-"

Hephaestus pressed a button and, suddenly, a loud alarm began to blare. Everyone but Hephaestus and Sheriff covered their ears. Sanctuary, however, lifted some vines up and threw Orange against the wall. Spectrum yelled, glaring at the hero. He glared and looked at Sheriff. He pulled the dirty blonde towards him whispering in his ear. Sheriff's eyes glowed a bright purple as he fell to his knees, Spectrum running towards the brunette.

Hotguy groaned and drew his bow, ready to pin Spectrum to the wall. However, before he could let go, Sheriff used his lasso to take his bow.

Hephaestus stopped the blaring, "Sheriff-"

Spectrum helped his friend up, smirking, "Good boy, Sheriff! I'll be back for you later! Do whatever you need to do, kill them if you need to."

Sheriff stood up, protecting Spectrum and Orange. He panted, eyes glowing a bright purple, twitching as he gripped his lasso tightly.

"Sorry Sheriff, not dealing with this!" Sanctuary wrapped a vine around his leg and threw him against a wall. 

The man cried out in pain, eyes closing as he fell unconscious. Stratos flew over and picked the dirty blonde up.

"Great, we got Sheriff-" Cuteguy looked at Hephaestus, "-now where's T- Jimmy?"

Hephaestus went to say something but they heard police sirens. He cursed, "Fuck, I'll go after Spectrum and Orange and get him, but I gotta go!"

"WHAT?!" Cuteguy's wings flared up as the other climbed out the roof windows, "YOU'RE LEAVING?!"

"Listen, we may have a temporary truce, but police and villains don't mix. I'll get Solidarity, you help Sheriff!" He then left.

"YOU LITTLE-" Cuteguy went to fly after him.

"Cuteguy!" Hotguy grabbed him, "He's right! He helped us find Sheriff, but the police won't care. Besides, all four of us will get in trouble if it's found out we were working with a villain."

Cuteguy's wings slowed down as he landed, "....Right. I'll stay back, explain what happened to the police, you all help Sheriff."

"I'll help you." Sanctuary stood beside Cuteguy.

Stratos picked Hotguy up, "Alright, we're heading to headquarters. See ya both later."

Stratos flew to headquarters, the two going inside and heading to the medbay. They laid Sheriff down on the bed, a staff member healing his back. Hotguy knelt beside him, holding his head in his hands. His eyes began to glow a light blue, his vex wings extending as he tried to use his magic to break Sheriff out of it. He groaned, focusing as much as he could. Suddenly, he pulled back, groaning as he held his hands.

"Hotguy?"

"I-I can't break him out of it, it's not that easy. Every time I try, I just feel Spectrum's power trying to overtake mine."

Suddenly, Sheriff's eyes shot open. He screamed and went to punch Hotguy, Stratos catching him and pinning him down. Sheriff struggled, glaring, kicking and screaming.

"C-Calm down, calm down! F-Fuck, what is going on?!"

Hotguy widened his eyes, "Spectrum's last order was to kill us..."

Stratos widened his eyes, cursing, "Sorry Sheriff." He headbutted the other, Sheriff falling unconscious again.

Hotguy picked Sheriff up, "This is going to take a lot more focus, I need to go to another room."

"What?! But, Hotguy, what if-"

"I'll be fine, I just need peace and quiet and no distractions." Hotguy reassured, going into a different room he knew had no cameras.

He locked the door behind him before he laid Sheriff on the couch, kneeling beside him. He took a deep breath, taking off his glasses. He held the other's face, closing his eyes. Light blueish-grey marks appeared around his hands and eyes, his vex wings extending slightly. His eyes glowed a bright blue as he completely focused on the dirty blonde's mind. I should be able to reach in, weave some memories together and bring him back up. Hotguy thought.

He was inside Sheriff's mind, tugging and pulling memories of the vigilante messing with Stratos, the vigilante saving the day and catching the bad guys, the vigilante... talking to some pigeons? Oh, and there he was, helping Stratos find Sausage and then there he was, talking with Spectrum and fighting his control. Finding those seemed to break Spectrum's hold a bit, as he heard the dirty blonde groan. He ignored it, focusing more. He reached deeper into Sheriff's mind, pulling more memories up, these ones more specific.

Sheriff seeing a little girl crying. The girl was lost, she couldn't find her mom or dad. So, Sheriff picked her up, calmed her down, even bought her some ice cream, before helping her retrace her steps. The girl's mom and dad were extremely grateful, thanking the man profusely. He just smiled and reassured them it was no trouble.

Sheriff almost getting caught by Stratos after helping catch a bank robber. The brunette had grabbed Sheriff's wrist, attempting to get the dirty blonde to put them behind his back. Sheriff merely spun them around, telling Stratos he loved to dance and to just ask next time. That flustered the hero and he let go, allowing Sheriff to run and playfully wink.

Sheriff arriving home. In a... familiar home. Sheriff taking off his mask, hat, and scarf, setting them down on a familiar table... Sheriff walking down a familiar hallways, two familiar cats running over and greeting him. He picked the cats up, went into a familiar bedroom, and took out his phone. He sat on the familiar bed, turned on the camera, made it face him and-

JIMMY?! Hotguy gasped as he stared at the memory playing out, O-Oh my god, no wonder Sheriff and Solidarity went missing around the same time, they're the same person! Wait, fuck, Hephaestus says he knows who Sheriff is, meaning he knows that- Oh god, no wonder he ran! He wasn't going to reveal who Sheriff was! Oh god, what am I suppose to tell Cuteguy?! 'Hey, your missing brother? Turns out, he's a vigilante! In fact, he's Sheriff! So we found both, hurray!' Oh god, if Grian ever found out, he would kill Jim for doing something so dangerous! Hotguy groaned, shaking his head, Focus. Focus, it's okay. Just... focus.

***

Sheriff's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding, body aching. He groaned, looking around the room. He saw he was in some sort of office and-

Dollface~

He gasped, sitting up straight, looking around. 

"Hey, you're-" 

Sheriff stood and out his fists up, glaring.

"H-HEY! I come in peace!"

"Wh-What the?! Hotguy?! Where am I?! Where's Sp-" Sheriff stopped himself and shook his head, "Where's the villain?!"

Hotguy smiled kindly, sitting down and patting the seat beside him, "He's not here. It's just you and me. Sit."

"...Am I being arrested?"

"No, not at all. Just sit."

Sheriff hesitated, but did so.

"Listen, so..." Hotguy sighed, "Spectrum's grip on you was really, really, really strong."

"Yeah, I know." Sheriff hugged himself a bit, "I... I would try to fight it, but he would just... I don't know. I don't remember anything. I just remember his voice..."

Hotguy nodded, "Yeah, I know, I could tell. See, because Spectrum's grip on you was so tight, it wasn't as simple as me just challenging the power. I tried that, but his last order was to kill us, so when it didn't work, you woke up and tried to kill us."

"'Us?'"

"Cuteguy, Stratos, Sanctuary, Hephaestus, and I all found you, but Stratos and I took you back here." He explained, "Anyways, when I realized that didn't work, I had to go deeper into your head, root around, and pull you out. And, upon doing that, I... I saw your memories. Memories of you... without the mask."

Sheriff widened his eyes and stood up, stepping back, "Y-You-?!"

"Listen, it was the only other thing I could do and I don't feel good knowing, especially under these circumstances!" Hotguy stood up as well, "I don't want to expose your identity to more people, Solidarity, it's why I took you to a private room."

"Wait, you know me?" Sheriff asked, "Like, by name?"

"Yeah, um, soooooooo-" Hotguy removed his glasses, "I may or may not live with your brother...?"

The dirty blonde widened his eyes, "...HOLY SHIT!" He sat back down with the hero, "Scar? How could I not tell?!"

"Well, to be fair, we have tech in our masks and glasses that the hero industry made. It helps conceal our identities more. So, when I put my glasses on-" He put them back on, "-the tech makes it so your brain can't accurately pinpoint features. It confuses your brain, therein making it hard for people to recognize us!"

"Yeah, that makes sense, you look completely different with those on. Weird." He leaned back into the couch before widening his eyes, "Oh my god, how long was I gone?"

"Three weeks."

"OH MY GOD-" He quickly quieted down, looking at the brunette, "Please tell me Norman and Flick are okay?!"

"Grian and I took them in when looking for you." Scar reassured, "Cuteguy and I went looking for you, er, you as in Jimmy, and Stratos and Sanctuary were looking for Sheriff."

"Oh thank goodness." The dirty blonde sighed in relief before he seemed to realize something else, "Oh god, Grian and Pearl..."

"Yeeeeeeeah, they're freaking out... Don't worry, I didn't tell them!"

"Great! Now I gotta make up how I escaped Spectrum and make it look believable..." He sighed, "So, Cuteguy and Hotguy found Sheriff, but Grian and Scar are still looking for Solidarity, right?"

"Yeah. Listen, I could sneak you out and-"

"Nah, I got this. At least Pearl is safe from all this!"

Scar smiled awkwardly, "Hehe, yeah..."

***

The colorful villain growled, tapping his foot angrily.

"Sorry man, I was care-"

"Don't apologize, Owen, Sanctuary was playing dirty."

"Thanks for saving me, Scott. Even if it meant loosing your doll."

"You're my best friend, Owen. I can capture Sheriff again. I can't replace you."

The brunette smiled up at the other, "Softie."

"Alright, next time I'll leave you." The other teased.

Owen laughed, humming, "...You know his secret identity, right? Are you going to use that to your advantage?"

Spectrum chuckled darkly, "Oh Owen..." He smirked, eyes glowing as he manipulated the colors in front of them, "Scott is going to reconnect with an old friend and see how he's doing. Whatever happens after, I can't say."

Owen just laughed.

[rhapsoddity]

ITS YOUR FAVOURITE VILLAIN SANCTUARY ASKER 😻‼️

is there any like, possibility of seeing sausage go villain? If so would he work with spectrum or kraken? (I can so see him being a cunty villain with Joey) OMG MAYBEEEE would he go villain on his own?

I have so many questions on him.. like what would make him a villain? Who hurt my poor man? GRAAA I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I CANT BE NORMAL☹️. I really need to know if we see him in the story he’s very obviously my favourite 💔

If enought people want me to include bratwurst/villain sausage then I'll find a way to add that into the plot!

It'd probably be the affect of a power, I'd have to make or pick a character for that djfbksbd tbh I haven't thought that far.

The question is would he become Wither, the what if evil sausage I've designed previously,,, or would he be a fresh new villain?

[brewed-pangolin]

I’m making it canon that Soap was actually raised in a big fucking family and I mean big, from my understanding there’s a good size Catholic community in Scotland, also was raised by two parents who are absolutely in love with each other and thus enters you. Soap makes it his damn mission to not only knock you up if you are a person with a uterus but he’s got the biggest breeding kink I’ve ever seen and just the thought of this fucking beefy man, absolutely destroying you just to create, what’s in his head, a perfect little family ughhhhh makes me sweat and cry and puke and drool!

I agree with the first part 💯! And I'm going to do a bit of a self plug here.

My fic First Flight of the Scottish Hawk breaks down the dynamics of the MacTavish household.

He has two sisters, three brothers, and two parents who absolutely adore him.

I won't lie, I could gush so much about this. I have a special place in my heart for this fic. But I don't want to bore anyone with that.

From here we move onto the baby making factory that is John 'Soap' MacTavish.

Just a bit of NSFW under the cut...

--

Once you and Johnny decide it's time to add to your own family, you'll be hard pressed to have a moment of peace to yourself.

Man's on you like clockwork. The menace even has an app that follows your cycle. Knows exactly when you're most fertile and will bury himself so many times into your aching cunt that you'll be nothing by a babbling mess by the end.

He desires nothing more than to see you heavy with his child. Watching as your overly plump belly moves with the next generation of his family name. And he'll put as many mini MacTavish's in you as you so let him.

--

Now, I'm going to go onto the side of the spectrum because I am of this ideal. And I know I'm not the only one who stands here.

Johnny is a man who has nothing but respect for his lover. He may have a breeding kink like no other, but if the one he loves does not desire to have children, then he's still game.

Adoption is always an option. And it doesn't always have to be children.

You want to raise a family of Scottish deranged huskies. He's in.

Maybe become the resident cat household that welcomes all those felines who were cast away and forgotten by previous families? Soap's got two cat condos in his Amazon cart and ready to purchase an overpriced cat tree.

How about a farm with a family of goats, cows, a miniature horse, and a donkey? He's already signed the mortgage for a plot of land nestled in the country.

The point is that Johnny loves who he loves. Whether they want a family of mini MacTavish's or to run a sanctuary that puts the local zoo to shame.

Johnny boy will stick with you thick and thin. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Chance: So, you may be wondering, “How on earth are you gonna show a death battle? Is that not too gruesome for TV?” And I say don’t you all worry your pretty little heads. This battle royal is simulated, meaning the contestants will not feel a thing. As it’s styled like The Hunger Games, the aim of the game is to be the last one to survive! The last contestant remaining will get the Victorious Ones trophy from yours truly!

We’ve sent everyone down into their districts. Before I give the signal for everyone to begin, let’s have a listen in to some contestants thoughts through our live video screen!

Chance: Oh ho! A bit of smack talk from one of the contestants! This will be exciting! I wonder if the other contestants are feeling as confident or whether their nerves are getting the best of them!

(The 200 follower event is a go! Each week, I will post what the simulator mentions on it and add some drawings about what’s happened. As I said, I’m not gonna make them gruesome or serious. It will be in a comedic tone with slapstick-styled “deaths”.

Now that you know the very first pairings, feel free to draw your character either talking smack to the other character in your district or perhaps some other form of dialogue. This is not mandatory in any way! This is solely for a bit of fun before I get to drawing the events that are taking place! If you do draw any art for this event, please tag me or use the #200followerhungergamessim tag.

I wonder who’s gonna kill Destino lol

Tagging those in this so you know who’s joined:

Deca and Conductor - @spikyegg

Rimi - @ask-the-shiny-pokemons

Marley, Viola and Chomps - @asktherandomfam

Capital - @askcapital

Armando and Blair - @asklivingwasteland

Nix - @ask-anxious-sylveon

Mothball - @mysteriousmothball

X - @mod-checker

Suicune - @ask-suicune

Prince - @askpsychicarcanine

Shadow - @pokege-ne-project

Acacia - @phantomguild

Ziska - @askforestoddities

Wimmy - @askanotslownotking

Romeo - @ask-guardian-gallade

Altan - @asksolgaleo

Snow - @ask-a-learning-ai

Amy - @deep-digged-pokemon-burrow

Ultraviolet and Sugar - @distortionmewtwo

Sabre - @askleaderscrest

Lucario - @ask-lu-two-and-mew

Ryan and Rudy - @nobetternamethanthat2

Esmeralda and Arthur - @the-shinentist

Magby - @breed-station

Gizmo - @ask-gizmo-and-vigil

Inari - @inaris-pokemon-world

Vekpa - @askvekpa

Chime - @askchimeknight

Lunar - @saguaropokevariants

Peri - @ask-team-spectrum

Hiro, Genji and Ginjiro - @symphonies-of-silver

Chippy - @mew-sanctuary

Lumi and Kyandoru - @minish-mews-and-twos

Mase - @masetheumbreon

Dravol - @asksavel

Spirit - @askadelcatty

Harumi - @life-of-kalos

I’ll look forward to drawing each and every one of your characters!)

[lultimagoccia]

( PRIDE HCS LET'S GOOOO

port obello, as a sanctuary for both humans AND monsters alike, has its own pride celebration, recognizing a broad spectrum of identities found in the many populations that take residence there! pepp has participated every year for over a decade now, mostly as a vendor since it's a great time to sell pizzas.

i think pepp bounced between a few labels over the years before settling pretty firmly on bisexual. he hangs a bi flag from his stand at pride, and during a point in time where he was involved with a man, he invited his partner to help out that year. pepp is generally very private about his love life, so it was kinda nice to show off for once even if he was probably beet red and sweating the entire time.

pizzano is genderfluid, accepting all pronouns and gendered terms. he presents pretty fem outside of their costume, and even that has a few variations depending on his mood. pepp hasn't put much thought to his gender identity outside of being a guy, and is secretly very curious about presenting fem and how it might make him feel. muse is nonbinary, accepting he / they pronouns. they don't care too much about gender they're just vibin'. )

[elizaellwrites]

Hello and Welcome!

I've introduced myself here before, but I have quite a few new followers and feel like it's time for an updated masterpost and a better-organized layout for you to navigate.

If you'd like to skip to reading my stuff, here's a link to the Google Site with my published works or you can check out my Master Post here on Tumblr with links to all my published chapters.

This intro is split into 3 parts:

Who on Earth am I?

What the heck is this blog?

What in the world am I working on?

Who am I?

Hi, my name is Eliza (pseudonym), or Elizabeth if you're feeling fancy. I'm an American college student who has an unhealthy attachment to cats, caffeinated beverages, books, and my endless collection of every color of pen imaginable.

I'm an INFJ (4w5), am some type of neurodivergent, chronically ill, and on the Ace spectrum. My favorite subjects besides reading and writing are cultures/sociology, psychology, and history (my infatuation with these topics can bleed into my writing quite often.)

If you are interested, I also started a side blog for my random, non-writing chaos. I am terrible at posting there though…

About this Blog:

This page is dedicated to my random writer comments, my worldbuilding, character posts, and writing updates.

You're welcome to send comments, questions, concerns, or just random tags at any time. I may not get to them immediately, but they are all appreciated.

I'm currently experimenting with a more structured and purposeful post schedule, so bear with me on that while I find the best setup for myself.

I hope to connect with people here, as I have done so far. Social media isn't always my thing, but Tumblr has had me pleasantly surprised.

My Writing Work:

Please note that none of my work displays 18+ content, however, most contain mature themes such as death, grieving, sometimes descriptive violence, abuse, and mental health struggles at some level. All stories/chapters containing potential triggers are marked. If you notice that I missed something, please notify me. I try to balance the weight of these darker themes, so they are not always at the forefront of everything, but please be aware that they are present. Take care of yourselves.

My writing is split into two different categories. All of my work takes place in the same original universe and deal with my fictional, magical humanoid species of Hecathians from their home planet Ariya. I am progressively working on an Encyclopedia of sorts for this fictional world and the characters living in it.

My main project- The Legacy of the Fallen series

Expanded Works- "shorter" complementary series (plural)

Legacy of the Fallen

I'm currently working on Book One: The Child (Read Here or Here on Tumblr)

Most of my posts will be centered around this WIP, as the world developed from this story. Most of the characters you'll see posted about are also from here.

Currently: 80k words/????

Genres: Fantasy, Action, Adventure, Drama, and Mystery

Summary

After being driven from their home and countless lives lost among them, the Hecathian people are striving to rebuild what was lost. The Academy, a safe haven and reintroduction to their lost society, seeks other survivors. Annamarie has recently made a fated move with her father, being thrown into a world of discovery, danger, and more mysteries to be uncovered. As she learns more, she begins to question who she can really trust while everything she thought she knew fades into an illusion. Though it starts off following the daily lives of four seemingly average students at a random school, it's quickly revealed that there's more to them that even they may be unaware of. One of these four, Jacob, serves as a bridge to the reality that their true identities had been hidden from them after their parents and families went into hiding thirteen years ago after their people suffered a massacre that ended with millions dead and their world in the hands of their enemies. They are connected with a sanctuary that serves as cultural re-education and emersion for their people, which is ruled by Maishear, Jacob's father. Though this academy is supposed to be safe, it is plagued with political controversy, mysterious disappearances, and a traitor in their midst. The newcomers and Jacob's team are thrown together to face the challenges ahead and the shadows of the past that plague them.

To follow, I have until Book 4 in the planning stages (because I'm chaotic.) Here are the titles for Books 2 & 3:

Tempest

Violet Sky

Expanded Works

I keep getting new ideas for these, so I will update this as more come out/chapters are updated.

Theoretically, these are shorter series, though since I'm incapable of writing actually short stories, we'll see.

I currently have 2 series in the works:

Vixen

Currently: 8700 words/???? (Read Here or Here on Tumblr)

Genres: Fantasy, Drama, Action, Romance, Mystery

Summary

Tells the story of Roselle and members of their team two years before Legacy of the Fallen takes place. Roselle Jakoste is one of the few remaining members of the royal Verairacur family. Now, at fifteen, she finds herself falling for the son of the man that destroyed her family. Meanwhile, a mystery begins to reveal itself as political tension within the academy starts to grow.

Ruin

Currently: 3400 words/???? (Read Here or Here on Tumblr)

Trigger Warning: This whole story is very dark. Death, grief, and uncertainty are very prominent throughout. If this isn't for you or you're not in a good place, please skip this one.

Genres: Fantasy, Action, Dystopia, Tragedy

Summary

Follows various survivors of the Hecathian genocide who eventually find safety and companionship with each other. As their home planet is held under occupation, remaining Hecathians have to fight and hide to survive, while the life they knew crumbles around them.

Coming Soon: Awakened

Genres: Fantasy, Politics, Spy, Action, Drama, Eventual Romance

Currently on Hold- I will return to it though.

Summary

Etesha is a young woman who has grown up within the Yaldaeit political cult. Raised to believe in the extreme ideologies and measures of the group, she has been preparing for her role in their activities for years. She has finally been given a true assignment as an undercover agent within the observance system. In this new position, and seeing society outside of her sheltered community, she begins to question whether she still agrees with what the Yaldaeit does and whether she will carry out her mission or not.

I try to post updates regularly, and usually on weekends. If you're interested in being added to a taglist, please comment on which one, or request to be added on an update.

Disclaimer: Please do not repost my work anywhere without permission. Thanks.

Thank you for all the support on here, and don't be afraid to say hello! I won't bite, I swear.

I hope you enjoy my work and that you love my characters and world as much as I do!

[anhed-nia]

I have been trying to figure out what to say about this movie since I saw it on the Brooklyn Horror Film Festival jury, and I keep running up against the embarrassing conclusion that it has been impossible for me not to take it personally. This happens occasionally, where something hits you so strongly right in your DNA that you can't even tell whether it's as good as you think it is; mercifully the quality of RED ROOMS is not in doubt, but it reminded me of my delusionally personal associations with the original SNOW WHITE. The Disney feature was one of the first movies I ever saw, and it seemed to communicate to me very directly about my options for living as a human female of the brunette variety: On one end of the spectrum there is the sickly virgin with her morbid beauty and her kinship with nature, and on the other end, the cannibalizing bitch goddess with her devious mind full of arcane knowledge (ok so the Wicked Queen is not actually dark-haired, but I assert that that cowl counts (and I want one)). As a little girl I thought, yes, this is a pretty good deal for me, either one of these assignments will do.

Pascal Plante's RED ROOMS offers a similar dichotomy, and it has proven very hard for me to avoid seeing its main characters as an Aspirational Self, and a disappointing Actual Self. Maybe RED ROOMS has a Magic Mirror quality, in fact maybe all films do, though they don't all speak so clearly and bluntly to every viewer.

Juliette Gariépy plays Kelly-Anne, a fashion model who is fixated on the high profile trial of Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) who is accused of serial murder and traffic in the snuff films of his young female victims. Seated in a row of goth groupies, the expressionless Kelly-Anne is identified with their fascination with the case, and yet we have no idea what really motivates her. Implicitly, few people would have any idea what it is like to be Kelly-Anne; as her internet handle LadyOfShalott suggests, she lives alone in a luxury highrise with the computer as her only connection to the outside world. She emerges for fashion shoots marked by her dark, edgy brand, and to attend the Chevalier trial. Otherwise, her only regular human contact is with online poker competitors who are no match for her savant-like math expertise and apparent lack of feeling. She presents as a bit of a sociopath, which becomes worrisome as she uses her technological skills to stalk the bereaved mother of the only victim whose recorded murder has not yet surface. However, Kelly-Anne is ultimately unknowable, and not much like the other fangirls and -boys who appear day after day at the hearings. We find evidence of this in the arrival of Clementine (Laurie Babin).

In opposition to Kelly-Anne, Clementine is needy, ingratiating, and naively intrusive. The tiny girl is fueled by her fanatical belief that Chevalier is innocent, a conviction she assumes Kelly-Anne must share. In a moment of rare empathy, the model invites the urchin into her sanctuary and, after flirting with the notion of human friendship, she eventually reveals enough to totally shatter the young woman's illusions. Clementine is the perfect foil, providing us with a tool for interrogating Kelly-Anne's identity and motivation--and for me, she also provided a painful reminder of the difference between myself and what I claim to value. Kelly-Anne is like every William Gibson heroine I have ever attached myself to: beautiful and alien, yet more intelligent than beautiful, dangerously brilliant and purpose-driven, emotionally incompatible with normal people, voluntarily exiled to the fringes of society despite her social currency and financial power. It's hard to imagine what she does and does not feel, but perhaps her life is not so easy. Clementine doesn't see it, of course, finding Kelly-Anne's robotic perfection very amusing. Clementine is her opposite: pretty only in a childlike way, hopelessly unself-conscious, counterbalancing her ignorance with self-righteous fanaticism. I saw myself there, and while Clementine is appealing and sympathetic despite (or even because of) her foibles, it wasn't a great feeling. She is obsessed rather than focused, embroiled in adult matters she can't quite grasp, and incapable of understanding or engineering other people's perceptions of her. She and Kelly-Anne make a lovely odd couple, but true connection is not quite possible, and Clementine only ends up feeling embarrassed, and like she has something to apologize for.

Whatever filmmaker Pascal Plante's grander statements might be, about the cybernetic nature of modern life and the merchandising of other people's lives and deaths, laced through as they are with a peculiar Arthurian motif, I've had a hard time fully engaging with them only because of my own passionate investment in his characters and their perverse interpersonal dynamics. Maybe by October I will have matured enough to articulate a more robust argument about this in-any-case extremely great movie. In the meantime, I am haunted by the enviable unknowability of Kelly-Anne, and the tragic transparency of Clementine. For now I will just say that I love it when a male filmmaker seems to live out a fantasy through a female character. One of the reasons that I don't totally dis Rob Zombie is that I enjoy the way that he encourages personal identification with tough female protagonists represented by his wife Sheri Moon, genre heroines like Meg Foster and Karen Black, and in my personal favorite instance, young Taylor Scout Compton:

When I saw this grim, black-eyed portrait of Pascal Plante, with its stark resemblance to Kelly-Anne, I thought yes, this guy gets it, he wants to live through her just like the rest of us, even if her version of humanity is not ours.

PS Please enjoy Lord Alfred Tennyson's description of average Tumblr user the Lady of Shalott, depicted visually by John William Waterhouse:

[salisburyautisticcarerealestate]

Salisbury Autistic Care: Compassionate Support for Autism Community

Designing Autistic-friendly Homes: Key Features and Considerations

Our home is our happy place. It is a safe haven where you can relax after a long day and unwind in peace. But, as we know, everyone has their own definition of what a home looks and feels like. Some prefer it to have a modern, sleek design, while others would like a traditional look. Similarly, people on the autistic spectrum have their own preferences when it comes to housing ideas. Simply put a brick-mortar house with windows and ample light might not be their go-to choice.

Read More: Salisbury Autistic Care — Empowering Families: The Impact of Autism Care in Salisbury

Individuals on the autistic spectrum can feel overwhelmed by things like bright lights or loud noises. Therefore, designing homes for them requires careful thought and meticulous planning so that their unique needs and concerts are aptly met.

Read on to find out all the things you can keep in mind while designing a home for autistic individuals and how Salisbury Autistic Care is doing its part to make comfortable homes.

Lights, Colors & Sounds

Many people with autism are sensitive to their environment and may have a hard time processing information that they feel and see. This sensory overload can be really intense and overwhelming. That is why it is important to opt for soft, muted tones in colors and avoid harsh lighting or loud noises. It helps create a calm, soothing environment for them to relax and be at ease.

Additionally, incorporating tactile elements such as textured surfaces or soft furnishings can provide comfort and stimulation without overwhelming the senses.

Structured Spaces

Organization and structure help autistic individuals to focus better. Incorporating the same in the living spaces gives them a sense of predictability and routine. Therefore, having designated areas for different activities, such as sleeping, eating, and leisure, or for storing non-essential items, helps individuals with autism to process their environment more effectively.

Quiet Retreats are a Must!

Like everybody else, individuals on the autistic spectrum like their quiet, me time. This is especially true when they feel a sensory overload. A quiet corner or room helps them decompress and relax. Hence, these retreat spaces should be equipped with comfortable seating, dimmable lighting, and noise-canceling features to create a calming environment.

Salisbury Autistic Care: A Sanctuary of Support for People on the Autism Spectrum

Salisbury Autistic Care has been providing safe, quality, and effective housing solutions for individuals on the autistic spectrum. We make sure that our every project adheres to the unique demands and requirements of our clients. Right from inception to completion, our properties are carefully designed to incorporate sensory-friendly elements that complement and support the needs of individuals with autism.

At Salisbury Autistic Care, we are dedicated to providing more than just homes – we offer spaces where every tenant feels valued and respected. We are committed to fostering a sense of belonging and support within our communities. In the end, it is all about making a meaningful difference in the lives of those we serve.

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 6

The Song(fic) Challenge prompt for today was "A song that comforts you". As a person with a brain that is occasionally pretty bad, I have a whole host of songs I could have chosen, but I decided to go with the song that has single-handedly (single-notedly?) brought me out of a mental slump more times than I can count: "00:00 (Zero O'Clock)" by BTS.

Today's fic is also my first continuation within this challenge! Picking up a few years from where "a gentle wildness" left off, we encounter a Zelda who is struggling immensely with her workload and life as Queen of Hyrule, and the lover who is there to comfort her.

growing in the dark

Game: Twilight Princess, post-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 1912

Keywords: angst, hurt/comfort, breakthrough, fluff

“Do you think it will be different?” Her voice was a raspy, choked croak. Hardly recognizable. “Not at first.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she accepted it with only a slight pang of pain. “It will take time for the changes you want to take place. But this day will be over. You won’t need to live this moment again.”

Read the fic on Ao3, or under the cut!

Night fell over Zelda’s office in a spectrum of indigo. Twilight melted into gloaming; gloaming subsided to moonrise. Her eyes stung from squinting at the papers, even when she sparked Din’s Fire at her right index finger to light the trio of candles at the head of her desk. There was a pounding in her head like hoofbeats towards the breach. 

It was just such a mess. Her desk was only the visual representation of her affairs: papers scattered; ink splotched on important documents that she had to redo, else she risk derision; stacks of correspondence higher than two of her handspans. She had vowed that morning that she wouldn’t leave her desk until she got through all of the grant requests and legislation proposals at least, but here she was, the hand on her wall clock approaching midnight, and she had gotten through less than three-quarters of it. A trend, of late, no matter how she tried to fight it.

‘A whole three-quarters!’ Link might have said, had he been there to see it. Her partner always was a glass-half-full sort of person, and doubly so when encouraging her. She denied the allegations of being a pessimist—and wouldn’t I have reason to be, given how my life has gone so far?—but tonight…

No, it was just the late hour. She was just tired. This night didn’t mark a trend towards unhappiness in her manner any more than any other night did. She was sure of it. 

She dipped her quill into the ink pot, only for her fatigue-trembling fingers to nearly knock the squat ceramic over. Swearing, she threw the quill to the floor in an attempt to avoid ink droplets raining down on the second copy she’d made that night of the granary permissions form. Raven splotches bloomed over the simple rug. 

That’s it. Her work may not have finished, but she needed to be done. She needed to take a break for the night, to let sleep revitalize her aching head and shaking frame and sluggish mind. She stood abruptly, pushing back her chair and sending the desk rattling. At that, she swore again, but with rather more defeat in her tone than before.

Her office wasn’t far from her suite. It was a purposeful choice, when she’d first taken the weight of the crown. Her life was to be spent in service to the people, after all; she needed to be closest to the place where the majority of her work was truly carried out. (The distance from the throne room that this additionally provided was certainly not at all intentional, of course.) When fully awake and refreshed, she could stride down the three hallways in merely three minutes. 

Tonight, she only reached the doorway to her sanctuary after five stumbling minutes, one hand bracing her against the cold stone wall.

“Your Majesty! Are you quite well?”

The night on duty was…Fledge, she thought, although the name came more slowly to her than she would have liked. 

“I am, Sir Fledge. Merely tired.” She attempted a weak smile that even to her felt more like a grimace, and tacked on, “Thank you for your concern.”

“I hope your sleep is restful!” Under the half-mask of the knight’s helmet, she thought she saw him bite his lip. “And…it’s Pipit, Your Majesty.”

Oh, fires of Din, had she truly mistaken one of the guards she encountered every day?

Oblivious to her internal self-degradation, Sir Pipit had begun to panic. “I don’t mean to accuse you, Your Majesty! Only, you told me when I began my tenure as a personal guard that I should correct you were you to mistake me for someone else. I thought that might extend to now, but of course I may have been mista—“

“Sir Pipit, I appreciate the correction greatly, and I apologize for my blunder,” Zelda said wearily. “There is no need to fear my wrath. You have done nothing to earn it.” And there is no need for it to weigh more heavily on you than anyone else’s, regardless. 

“Understood, Your Majesty.” He granted her a tentative wisp of a smile. “I bid you a good night, then.”

“A good night to you as well, Sir Pipit.”

Zelda turned the doorknob, barely noticing Pipit’s salute in her peripheral vision as she fumbled her way into her suite. 

Her shoes came off at the door, on the woven-reed rug Link had received from Uli as a gift the last time they’d gone on holiday to Ordon. Link’s were there as well, although haphazardly, with one muddy brown boot sitting up straight and the other flopped on its side like a dying fish. Craving nothing more than her partner’s casual warmth, she crossed the sitting room into their bedroom as swiftly as she was able, without tripping over her own leaden feet. 

Link was asleep, but she could tell immediately that it hadn’t been intentional. Besides the candle burning low on his bedside table, he lay over the bedclothes rather than beneath them, and had a book still held open against his chest. Tired eyes squinched in an irrepressible smile, Zelda gently lifted it from his loosely clenched hands, and placed it next to the candle—although not so close that any wayward wax would drip on it. 

She could hear him begin to stir as she removed her day dress and pulled a clean chemise over her head, the fabric of her nightclothes and the sheets he rested upon rustling in tandem. 

“You were up late,” his voice murmured from behind. Zelda stopped, but didn’t turn. “Did you finish everything you wanted to?”

Her shoulders collapsed, and her chin drooped down toward her cotton-covered chest. “...No. I failed to do so.”

“Zelda.”

The warm weight of his hand rested upon the flat of her shoulder blade, fingers curling lightly up and over. Her lip quivered, but she did not permit the moisture in her eyes to fall.

“You didn’t fail, my love. You got, mm, thousands of papers further in than you were before. Every bit counts.”

She burbled a laugh. “Hundreds, maybe. But…” 

She turned to face him, burying her face in the soft, worn fabric of his sleep shirt. One blink dampened it beneath her cheeks. 

“Every day lately has…” Her breath caught. “I was thinking earlier that tonight wasn’t an omen of unhappiness more than any other night. And I was right, but…in the opposite direction, I believe. I…” She took a shuddering breath. “I find myself desperately unhappy lately. I feel as though I am a horse leaping endless hurdles, without an end to the road in sight. My heart crumples under the strain of this endless pushing.”

Wordlessly, Link’s lips came to rest on the crown of her head. The soft pressure gave her the strength to speak on.

“I can’t help but think that…I’m not suited for this role. I can’t handle all the work that comes directly to me. Even with a council, it’s not enough. My eyes must be on every document; my ears must hear every citizen and leader’s concern…it’s exhausting, Link!” She pushed back from his chest with a sudden burst, wildly seeking the solace of his eyes. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. And I–I’ve failed my people, I’ve failed my pare—”

“Zelda, Zelda, no!” Hands came up to cup her face. “You haven’t failed anyone. You haven’t.”

Her breaths, which had been coming so quickly and sharply, broke into a sob.

“It’s my fault. Why couldn’t I just stay as happy as I was when I was crowned? When you and I first fell in love? How could I let myself fall so far? To care for this kingdom is my born duty!”

“You can’t expect yourself to stay at the same heights of happiness forever,” Link murmured. “It’s unfair to you. Especially under such a heavy burden.” He took a breath. “You are at fault for the mistakes you make, but—” Seeing her mouth open in shocked hurt, he pressed a finger to her lips. “—but, sweetheart, no one can be suited for a role like yours. Not alone.”

Tears coursed down her face. “I–I. You…you’re right.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You…you’re right. I…”

“Yes?”

“I want…”

“What is it you want, Zelda?”

Her name. “I want to—I want to be just Zelda. I don’t want to be Queen anymore.”

Though the words were loosed from her own lips, Zelda was the one who flinched on their release, at the simultaneous gut punch and weight lifted from her shoulders at the confession. 

“I want more than a council for me to consult, but ultimately rule over unilaterally. I want more than a single mind’s attention on half of the documents that directly impact the people of Hyrule. I want representatives from the provinces to be able to speak for themselves, rather than necessarily speaking to me. I want—I want fewer papers on my desk, dammit!

“I don’t want to be Queen. I want something different, for myself and for Hyrule.”

She chanced a look into her lover’s eyes. They glowed brighter than the candlelight, and twice as warm.

“I’m so proud of you, Zelda.”

She crumbled.

Her knees gave out at the same time as another sob—this time, of relief—tore from her chest, and Link let out a sharp breath as he caught her against his chest. He stumbled backwards to the bed and sat her down like a child, as tears streamed down her face with such velocity that she couldn’t see, no matter how she wiped at her eyes. Wails echoed against the stone walls of their bedroom, and the slap of shame she felt at her wanton noisiness only made her louder.

She wasn’t sure how long she cried, curled against Link’s increasingly damp torso, wiping tears and mucus on his shirt and her hands and chemise. The only thing to tell time by was the glide of his comforting hand up and down her back, and even that felt random. Still, the flow began to slow, so gradually she only noticed it when she realized her breaths were no longer shuddering out of her chest like windows in a pane.

“Do you think it will be different?” Her voice was a raspy, choked croak. Hardly recognizable.

“Not at first.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she accepted it with only a slight pang of pain. “It will take time for the changes you want to take place. But this day will be over. You won’t need to live this moment again.”

Cool, blue relief. 

Taking control of her body for the first time in what could have been minutes or hours, Zelda scooted back on the mattress to assume her normal place on the left side of the bed. She gently guided Link down beside her. He followed gladly, only pausing in his pursuit to blow out the candle. 

In the dark, his arms found her waist and wrapped around her. Close. Warm. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, thrumming against her own chest, coaxing her own to meet its rhythm. 

“Link?” she whispered, after a few moments in the sanctimonious dark. 

“Mm?”

“Do you…think I’ll be happy again? Someday?”

His embrace tightened, and she sighed lightly and snuggled closer to his warm bulk as his lips found the place where her neck and shoulder joined. 

“Yes, my love. You will be happy.”

[rhapsoddity]

If you could rank your vigilante sheriff au characters strongest to weakest for heros and for villains how would they go? ( Maybe not all the characters because I know u have a lot but like the main ones)

I love this au so much, you don't often get to see an au with this much thought put into it.

off the top of my head uuuh

Heroes

Hotguy, Cuteguy, Stratos, Pyrolisk, Sanctuary

Villains

Styx, Worlock, Kraken, Spectrum, Hephaestus

see you'd think i put a lotta thought into this au but I genuinely tell you this is just faking it till I make it, I don't have a CLUE about half my worldbuilding dvsgfhvghsdf I look at au's like DDVAU and am in awe how they actually think about shit lol

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Ok before I say anything else BRUH I took the quiz you reposted and guess who I got….also mf sae…..bro??? Wavelengthed too hard but STAY STRONG NO CONVERTING

EVIL YUKI SHSHSHSJ actually know dw all the shit and slander yuki has to go through now is just setting him up to become rough and tumble yuki so he can get the development he deserves it’s all part of the plot!!! STOP ITS SO EMO but ig its better than one of them being left behind by the other shevdhshsh (or you let mc live and then we can be with Karasu instead/j) I’ll never be get over how interesting hollyhock mc is though (the whole belonging/ownership/love dynamic is SO unique I love it sm) on the complete opposite side of the spectrum we have otoya being done TOO MUCH justice LMAOOO it’s ok the story and plot slap so he can have a pass

DADFAILURE LOSERS I LOVE IT HAHAHA esp while yuki has his life (pretty much) together truly the embodiment of tabieitaken shenanigans also KING OF KALOS GOES SO HARD??? Mm yes we love yuki supremacy (also the ref to his emperor of 1-on-1 title ugh so peak)

That’s actually insane I feel you though because I’m also scared shitless of getting mobbed by insane parts of fandoms (partially why I’ve never really used tumblr to do anything before besides lurk and also why I am NOT subjecting myself to being one of those regular translators on twitter or tiktok or whatnot I’m not about to get people attacking me in the comments for wild shit shshshsb) BUT I agree lowk….i mean tullireo isn’t going to be rubbed in our faces in the story anyways (I assume) since we’ll be too busy burying Barou’s corpse (I’m screaminf) but THSTS SO REAL “I make money so my wife can breed pokemon and keep them all for herself instead and I’ll build them a whole pokemon pasture/sanctuary” (that would be me as a pokemon breeder fr) bro it was just meant to be the team vibes…it’s giving elegant but strong

LMAO chigiri and Reo forced platonic close proximity chigiri is just THE bestie whether it’s gossip or wingman duties he’s got it all but I’m crying otoya tweaking because he’s like “NOOOOOOOOOOO MY OTP” and Karasu patting him like “idk what you’re on about but hate to break it to you but I don’t think Tullia doesn’t likes you that way”

Wait I know the exact vibe you’re going for it’s giving “drops random lore/information and disappears for three months” LMAOOO fr that older mentor who comes gives hints and guidance kinda like a walk through tutorial guide in a game where they’re like “oh yeah you should go here” only to never be heard from again LFMOAOAAOAOAO GANDALF REAL but that kinda puts a bit of distance in his dynamic I feel? So yes TULLIREO WE ALL CHANT guess I gotta side with otoya this time tullireo OTP LOWK DO IT it’s just the vibes too yk…they just match….guys…..

LMAO my first thought was fr “that scrawny ass kid with a bug net on route 2” imagine they don’t even battle the boy is so scared of ghost type aeguslash that he just runs (I see that typo but I’m not fixing it because it’ll get autocorrected into something unrecognizable and I’m channeling my inner Nagi and being lazy)

LMFAOO reader fr like “where tf did my genes go…” THE PARENTAL LORE GOES CRAZY LMAOAO imagine their kids going to school and yk how elementary school kids usually get those assignments that’s like “what do my parents do?” Etc? Yeah their daughter has to fill out that and her drawing is reader on top of a pile of dead team z grunts carrying nagi or maybe they’re just holding hands but nagi def has to be shown asleep taking a nap and uncle Barou flying in the sky as an angel and readers giant ass red gyarados in the back looming over it all and like a crying Mr. Mikage on the floor

LMAO Reo exclusively using luxury balls so true lowk the premier balls kinda fit Barou’s aesthetic too maybe he splurges on them generally to keep everything consistent and neat looking LOL bro my luck was ass with quick balls actually I think I’ve only ever caught my donphan (as phanpy) with one LMAOA

Pause I see the abamasnow vision (it’s intimidating but imagine it’s as dumb as him LMAOA openly walking up to fire types) arcanine accidentally burning tf out of it is so funny they would SO bully him for that for the rest of his life

Aiku getting what he deserves!! He has his happy ending though he’s just gotta finish up his community service first LOLL ok but him actively very involved with sae and Barou because he deals with them on a more regular level because they’re on the same team and he’s like “I can’t deal with their bitchlessness anymore PLEASE get a girl I’ll even help you but you need STRESS RELIEF. NOW.” LMFAOO wait I’m very excited to see aiku put in his place LMFAOO

When the familial relationship steals the spotlight from the romantic one>>>> LAMSOA /hj perhaps this can be a character study in the future…I’m crying their relationship is so sweet though ugh

EYES WIDE OPEN OMGOMG NEW GRAPHICS!!! No I lowk love the clean look too it fits the vibe fr!! Guys yk it’s serious when the graphics ready…pokemon au here we come!!!!!!!

- Karasu anon

LMAOOO IT’S BECAUSE WE’RE THE SAME PERSON FR no but i think it’s so funny we’re both NOT itoshi lovers which is pretty rare i feel and yet we’re the ones who ended up getting sae himself 😭 the universe wants to convert us to itoshism but we MUST stay strong

HELP YOU’RE SO RIGHT this is just the development he requires…rough and tumble yuki’s bad past is actually a bad past LIFE where he led to the death and despair of all of his current friends (that’s lowkey a crazy fic premise like the whole hollyhock gang reincarnated but only yukimiya gets his past memories back so he has to live with the knowledge that he once betrayed everyone he now loves 😰) agreed at least it’s not one living/the other dying!! LMAOO no because hollyhock reader x karasu is such a normal dynamic tbh free hollyhock karasu from her he does not have the insanity to match her freak 😭 it really is like i said HAHA with a normal reader and author karasu would be endgame but (un)fortunately for him reader is fucked up and i’m an angst lover so he does not get that privilege 🙂‍↕️ also yeah every time otoya does some dumbass shit in the manga/anime i’m like okay YOU are the one who’s starring in hollyhock?? YOU are the bloodthirsty ninja who dies because he loves someone that much??? he would actually be so hype to know that that’s how he’s viewed though…we’ve talked about bllk otoya meeting hollyhock otoya but imagine PURSUIT otoya meeting hollyhock otoya he probably bursts into tears because at least he’s living his cool ninja life SOMEWHERE

YUKIMIYA SUPREMACY ALWAYSSS i had sm fun coming up with everyone’s little nicknames (barou’s being the “never-champion” because he never actually got to challenge mr mikage vs reader’s being the “reluctant champion” because she never even wanted to be champion in the first place…did somebody say #siblinggoals 😜⁉️) and the king of kalos just rolls off of the tongue sooo well especially because his mentor is chris PRINCE like come on now!! pls pokémon au tabiektaken are basically the epitome of their miraverse dynamic like it’s how i would write them if i were in charge of the manga HAHAHA they’re so funny together

PLSS i respect you sm for that because it’s such a double edged sword like on the one hand i love making my silly posts and having my followers and mutuals react but on the other i’m always afraid a post will break containment and reach the wrong audiences because some people are BRUTAL 😭 but if you do ever decide to become tumblr active trust i will defend you from any hate 🤫🫡 can’t say the same for twitter because i don’t have an account nor tik tok because people on there are a different brand of terrifying but i can tussle w some tumblr trolls if needed!!

yeah i def think tullireo will have that togetullia from pi vibe!! like there’s very obviously something going on and it’s mentioned now and again but reader’s relationship with nagi / search for barou are much more forefront so it’s not at all the main focus!! with such an expansive story though it’s so important imo to have more relationships than just the main pairing otherwise things fall flat and/or the main pairing can almost feel out of place?? like why are y’all falling in love when NO ONE else is 😭⁉️

otoya bawling over the loss of his otp meanwhile karasu’s like “there there buddy it’ll be okay plenty of other girls out there anyways what’s an otp 🙂❔” HAHAH he’s the dad with 0 clue of modern slang or anything also wait this reminds me of a specific exchange nagi and reader have during the aegislash arc where nagi’s like “wait i think we’ve been isekai’d” and reader’s like “how do you know what that is” and nagi’s just like “oh reo loves reading villainess isekai manhwa on his pokétch before bed every night” and reader’s like “huh okay” and it’s never mentioned again LMAOOO

yeahhh that’s exactly isagi’s vibe!! along with aiku’s a bit but isagi’s more mature aiku is like the problematic version of that trope 😭 isagi’s the voice reader hears in her head when she tries to ride her bike inside ykwim…agreed it really does differentiate him from the main cast a bit too much for a romantic relationship between him and tullia to make sense!! especially given he’s meant to be barou’s contemporary and barou’s looked up to as The Big Brother of the story isagi kind of ends up giving off that vibe too 😩 now REO on the other hand…otoya and chigiri cooking fr i lowkey love the juxtaposition too where tullia is super motivated and has a dream she wants to accomplish of her own merits whereas reo has everything handed to him but he’s only doing things because his family expects him to?? idk could lead to some fun interactions…plus the first nagi and reader battle (where her houndour uses pursuit on his growlithe) only even happens because she wants to battle for experience but tullia’s already challenged reo so nagi’s her only option ☝🏻 so if you think about it that kind of foreshadows tullireo…maybe my mind already knew what needed to be done FJSKSKA just like i only noticed the arcanine/houndoom parallels AFTER the fact

that kid is so cocky too imagine he throws out his fucking rattata or metapod and he’s like “beat this 😜” because nobody else on route one has been able to yet and then nagiy/n’s daughter’s just like “ok 👍” and out comes aegislash…wait lowkey ykw would be cute is if the bug catcher just becomes her traveling companion after that because of how strong “her” aegislash is (i bet after their daughter has enough pokémon of her own reader’s like ok give aegislash back now and train your own team up) like he’s like “woah if i stick with you i’ll definitely become more powerful” and ofc nagi’s daughter is as nonchalant as he is so she doesn’t gaf but then they end up falling in love or smth and having that black cat introvert girl x golden retriever extrovert boy dynamic FJDNFJSKJS omg now we’ll have to come up with nagiy/n GRANDCHILDREN lore (unrelated but the thought of nagi as a grandfather is so cursed)

I’M CRYING AT THE IMAGE OF BAROU IN HEAVEN he’s definitely one of those baby angels with the trumpets and little white wings but it’s just barou’s head and massive hair pasted onto it 😭 and gyarados is just drawn with a massive grin on its face meanwhile mr mikage is just face down on the ground LMAOAOAO and nagi is holding hands with y/n who’s like 🙂 meanwhile nagi is just drawn to be 😴 imagine the teacher’s like why is your father asleep and their daughter’s like “he sleeps a lot 😄” so the teacher is concerned for the child’s welfare?? and that afternoon she pulls up to the nagi household and knocks on the door determined to confront “mr and mrs nagi” about how nagi’s always sleeping and if their daughter is being cared for properly but when they open the door the teacher’s like WHAT THE FUCK because it’s y/n l/n and SEISHIRO nagi not just two randoms standing there 😰 safe to say she runs away real quick…i feel like their son being the older of the two is a lot more like barou somehow?? which is crazy because neither nagi nor reader are anything like him but he just takes after his uncle sm…i kinda picture him looking like season 1 kiyora actually in the sense that he has a very barou-esque coloring but more of nagi’s hair texture 🤔 lowkey he probably acts like wicked game kiyora too like always getting into fights (in this case pokémon battles) and whatnot but also pretty chill (he got the reuniclus because it’s a former nagi team member so it’s much calmer and holds him back whereas aegislash would def egg him on HAHAHA)

okay wait now i’m stealing that for reader’s phanpy…it’s her second pokémon/the first she ever catches so imagine she just panics and throws a ball at it and karasu’s like bro that’s not going to work lmao but it was actually a quick ball she took from his stash because she didn’t have any of her own so it DOES work HAHAHA ofc karasu’s like what the hell because he always tries to use quick balls and they never work for him despite being really effective when yayoi and apparently reader use them (maybe he catches gible in one though?? and that’s why he doesn’t even need to battle it and is able to capture it while otoya and reader are arguing)

i def had to think about zantetsu for a second but him having an absolute idiot of an abomasnow just fits him so so well lowkey the aesthetics are matched too?? imagine he can mega evolve it eventually HAHAHAH you just see dumbass zantetsu with this enormous mega abomasnow and you’re like wait am i cooked?? but then one fire type move and it’s out for the count 😭 pls it’s especially funny because reo actually doesn’t have any fire types so he has to actively work to beat abomasnow meanwhile arcanine BREATHES and it’s gone 😩 zantetsu lucky fr that nagi doesn’t gaf abt battling him…wait lowkey yk what would be fun is just a mini arc of like ovas/spinoff chapters?? showing what characters other than reader are up to…maybe one focuses on manshine trio and the reo vs zantetsu rivalry, another shows a day in the life of isagi and gives a bit more characterization to the other elite four candidates (kunigami kaiser bachira) as well as the elite four themselves, another is like aiku’s field journal of him getting bullied by pokémon, another is yukimiya’s contest training, another is hiori like settling a dispute amongst some safari zone pokémon (or even amongst his team to show the dynamics we talked abt earlier), and maybe even a tabieita one to show what they’re up to when the girls aren’t around 🤔

oaeu aiku is lowkey so entertaining to write though i can’t even lie he has some HILARIOUS lines i just started the barou version and there’s sm lorenzo slander i’m crying…people can’t even get mad because they’re not MY thoughts they’re aiku’s!!! that’s why i was able to get away w sae slander hehehe 🤫🤫🤫 anyways we finally had the dream team of aryu sendou niko and aiku show up as well as the aiku + niko duo getting some screen time so it’s been fun 🤩

no because lowkey a character study of noel noa’s rise to fame through the eyes of someone who’s known him from the start could lowkey be insane if only i didn’t have like ten requests, oaeu, pursuit, and my upcoming 1k event to worry about 😩 not to mention peregrine and hollyhock KFJDJSJS rip to them fr

YAYYYY I LOVED THE GRAPHICS the grey matching nagi’s character color…houndoom being the only splash of color and really standing out…the super neat font (serving barou realness tbh) idk i just really like it it’s def not the same vibe as the oaeu one for example but that one def gives “this is a silly cute crack fic” whereas this one you can tell you’ll need to lock in a bit to read if that makes sense

ALSO DID YOU SEE THE NEW TRAILER it’s looking like we’re getting s1 animation again but honestly it’s whatever s1 was liveable plus they always do my man nagi (mostly) right so i’m chilling…they made otoya’s face and chin SUPER pointy in that one screencap i reblogged but otherwise idm it too much!! KARASU LOOKS SO CUTE I’M SO GLAD HE’S FINALLY GOTTEN SCENES i really like his hair actually it looks sm softer and fluid in the anime style vs the manga!! at the end of the day at least we didn’t get yona of the dawn-ed like maybe the anime isn’t perfect but at least it exists ykwim?? although given how well the manga sells i’m surprised they don’t put more effort into the anime…anyways 🤷🏻‍♀️

[mariettebonneville]

─𝟎𝟑 【𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠】 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢

Once the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in shades of twilight, two souls found themselves intertwined in a destiny they could have never predicted.

Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira, known for her boundless compassion and flowing pink hair, housed a life within her—a life fathered by none other than Douma, the Upper Rank Two demon whose defining characteristic, aside from his deceptive angelic visage, was his obsessive affection for her.

Douma had always been eccentric, his affection for Mitsuri transcending the bounds of the natural order that divided demons and demon slayers.

He met every rejection, every rebuke with a smile, the chilling steadfastness of a man who could not grasp the full spectrum of human sentiment.

❝I will protect you and our child, no matter what,❞ Douma whispered into the serene night, a menacing softness in his voice. The sentiment could have been tender, if not for the possessiveness that laced each syllable.

Mitsuri, despite her strength, felt a shiver run through her. She had not anticipated the turn her life had taken, tangled with a being she was supposed to destroy. Yet, here she was, carrying a demon's child.

❝Douma... this child... it must know love, pure and true, not obsession,❞ Mitsuri responded, her firm tone belying the trepidation that gripped her heart. ❝It must see the light of humanity, not the shadow of possession.❞

Douma smiled, a chilling expression that held a twisted adoration. "Mitsuri, my love for you and our child is boundless. I will eradicate any threat, silence any danger, extinguish any opposition. For you, and for our future."

In the secrecy of the night, Mitsuri touched her belly and whispered to the life inside, hoping against hope that her warmth could protect her child from the coldness of Douma's twisted love. But Douma, ever observant, caught the gesture and knelt before her, his cold hand resting gently over hers.

❝Our child will be born into a world where it will need for nothing, fear nothing,❞ he cooed, his eyes gleaming with a fervor that made even the moonlight seem cold. ❝I will create a paradise for you, my beloved.❞

Mitsuri looked into Douma's eyes, finding there a labyrinth with no exit—a daunting realization that their fates were entwined in ways she couldn't have foreseen. Still, with the unwavering spirit of a Hashira, she made a silent vow.

'Even in this suffocating embrace, I'll teach this child about love,' she thought. 'A love that empowers, that frees, that protects without destroying freedom. And maybe, just maybe, it will understand what its father could not.'

And so, in a world torn by demons and darkness, a child of light and shadow was to be born.

As the seasons changed and Mitsuri's time drew near, their sanctuary became a fortress against both human and demon threats.

Douma began to see the world not as his chessboard but as a place fraught with hazards he had once been blind to.

His feelings for Mitsuri, dangerously obsessive at first, had tempered into a desperate need to safeguard the family he never envisioned he could have.

And when the time came, beneath the soft light of a crescent moon, Mitsuri brought their child into the world—a daughter with eyes that held all the colors of the dawn sky.

As she wailed her first breath, the conflicts that awaited them seemed to pause. In that moment, there was only this small, perfect blend of two vastly different lives.

Douma, holding his daughter, felt the final walls around his heart crumble to dust.

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

— in which Vlad Dracula savours the sweetness of a hostage’s life, yet cannot escape the bitterness of his captivity.

word count: 1,705 words

warnings: explicit and implicit mentions of violence; alcohol use

a/n: And we are back with some Vlad Dracula shenanigans! 🎉 A combination of various things (a visit to Türkiye, more research about the Ottoman Empire, and reading Mehmed II’s biography) made me abandon the previously worked-on WIPs to jump back in time a little and craft Vlad’s formative years a bit more. I was initially working on a large piece, but the piece would be large large, so I have decided to divide it into four shorter works. This is the firstborn of the cycle, and I hope you will enjoy it as much as the pain allows. Thank you for stopping by and reading! ❤️️

➨ also available on AO3

May 1443, Laskaris Palace, Nymphaion, western Anatolia, the Ottoman Sultanate

Sitting with his legs crossed upon the rich Anatolian rugs nearly feels like dining amidst the embrace of an open meadow. He can almost envision it — resting in the tall grass beneath the shadow of a chestnut tree and indulging in the creamy delight of fresh sheep cheese, a generous gift from a Wallachian shepherd. The riotous crimson hue shatters his pastoral illusion. His fingers dance upon the fabric, tracing the intricate patterns that are woven into it. Each thread reintroduces him to a culture worlds apart from his own. Getting accustomed to the daily peculiarities of his new life has been a gradual process, one that seemed frightening at first and required a certain degree of caution.

Or so he persuades himself to believe. In the recesses of his mind, he is acutely aware that the reality looks different. He has quickly begun to speak their words, think their thoughts, and dine as they do.

Vlad grasps the still-warm white bread, feeling its heat seep into his skin, then tears the soft, yielding dough into two halves. He sweeps the plate with a smaller piece, immersing the bread in the thick, savoury sauce of honey and sumac. Each bite becomes a small instant of bliss that transports him to a place of simple satisfaction. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches for the ground ginger mixed with honey, now solidified and cut into sticky cubes, and tosses one into his mouth. The sweetness of the honey melts away on his tongue and reveals the comforting heat of ginger that lingers in his throat like a slow-burning ember.

He realises that the memory of pork meat has not crossed his mind for several months.

The table before them is laden with an array of delicious meals, set upon silver and copper plates adorned with intricate oriental patterns. Whatever they desire lies before them, within arm’s reach — mouth-watering spiced meats, roasted pigeons and chicken, vegetables prepared in every imaginable way, the freshest fruits, and sweet delicacies in a spectrum of vibrant colours. Olive oil rests before them in jars, shimmering like liquid gold. If their thirst calls for quenching, they can reach for cups brimming with şerbet, a nectar of hibiscus or pomegranate.

He watches Radu’s small hands reach for the cup, gently drawing it closer so that not a single drop of the sweet liquid spills. Even the most insignificant movement of his younger brother does not escape his vigilant gaze. He observes how Radu’s wide blue eyes remain fixed in trepidation on their Greek teacher seated across them. Vlad’s focus then shifts to the wooden stick beside the teacher, a silent reminder of the punishment that follows every act of disobedience. A mere glance at the piece of wood sends a searing jolt through the soles of his feet. He shifts instinctively, tugging his slippered feet beneath him to seek a fragile sanctuary of his own flesh.

The Ottoman etiquette does not favour conversation at the table, yet Thomas Katavolinos dares to break the tradition. He extends a plate with figs, offering them to Radu with a graceful gesture. “Here, young man. Take some.”

Radu feels an overwhelming fullness, as if he might burst from the sheer abundance within him. With a weary shake of his head, he declines. “Thank you, efendi. I am full.”

Katavolinos smiles, bites into a fig, and returns the plate to the table. The room is swallowed by silence once more.

This is an element of the new life Vlad considers nearly impossible to embrace. He finds it insufferable solely for having it be forced upon him, so stifling and alien compared to the lively, ever-flowing discussions over meals he is familiar with from home. The guests at his father’s court have always been most welcome to sit around the massive table in the dining hall and converse enthusiastically over plates heaped with slabs of roasted pig, the crust glistening in the glow of the hearth. It has been a customary sight ever since he can remember, even before those earliest days in Târgovişte. He also recalls the nights when he would tiptoe down the stairs to spy on Dracul laughing heartily with the few dregătorii he held dear as friends. Goblets filled with wine would sit between them, and the discussions of state affairs would soon give way to nostalgic tales of their shared past when the Voivode’s fate was anything but evident.

Another memory engulfs him, a more intimate one. The Drăculești siblings gathered around their father seated at the head of the table, watching him dig into his meal after a long day besieged by duties. His authoritative voice, softened in those moments by paternal warmth, inquired into each child’s daily progress every evening that he spent at home. And you, Vlad? How are your studies of Chrysostom advancing?

He swallows the painful lump in his throat, burying the memories deep within the recesses of his mind. He fixes his gaze on Radu, tethering his focus to his brother instead. He must remain alert, and this watchfulness anchors him, bestows a sense of purpose upon him. To protect as he has sworn to do preserves his grasp on sanity.

A servant walks in through the grand doorway, pausing beside Katavolinos while cradling a large metal jug. The Byzantian waves his hand adorned with heavy rings, and the young man bows, pouring a crimson liquid into a cup. Katavolinos drinks greedily from it, and Vlad instantly recognises the rich, fruity aroma of the red wine imported from Greece.

Their teacher is yet to embrace the faith of their masters but extols the virtues of the civilised Ottomans into the young brothers nonetheless, urging them to find inspiration in their refined customs. The contrast between these and the so-called Frankish savages is stark, a chasm that the Greek mentor never fails to emphasise. Just last week, they were subjected to an elaborate monologue on the purity of abstinence from spirits. To witness him guzzle the wine with such ravenous intensity that the liquid trickles into his dark beard fills Vlad with a visceral repulsion at the hypocrisy of this man.

The words spill from his lips instinctively, a sudden revelation born from weeks of meticulous studies of the Qur’an under the ever-watchful eye of Mullah Sinan. “They ask you about wine and gambling. Say, ‘In them is great sin and yet, some benefit for people. But their sin is greater than their benefit.’”

Radu’s hand strikes his thigh, but it is too late. The words have already escaped, their energy released into the air, thickening the palpable tension around them.

“I see that you have immersed yourself in your studies with great devotion,” Katavolinos draws the cup from his lips, pausing just enough to speak.

Vlad lowers his eyes, and the expression on his face reveals nothing but unblemished humility. “I always aim to please you, efendi.”

Few pupils have ever earned Katavolinos’ affection. This obstinate Wallachian, however, is one he does not like at all. He despises his brazen demeanour, despises the outbursts of temper that only few punishments can quell. He could order him to a day without food or painful beating, yet the brat would always find a way to rebel — still, he can endure it, he has grown to recognise the patterns of his misbehaviour. What Thomas finds intolerable is the sharp sarcasm that he hones with age, the mockery cloaked in innocence yet cutting deep. It demands immense self-restraint to resist the urge to seize the youth by his shoulders and beat the very soul from his being.

“Despite the advice against intoxication,” Katavolinos’ voice increases in intensity, “even our generous hosts occasionally indulge in this delight. It is not defiance against the proclamations of their faith, rather, it represents a blend of purity and pleasure. One aspect cannot exist without the other. After all, one cannot fully appreciate what is righteous without experiencing what is pleasurable.”

“I know. Mullah Sinan explained the ayah in a similar manner.” When Katavolinos is lulled into the false comfort of thinking the conversation has ended, the young hostage adds, “I am merely confused. I remember your firm cautions against alcohol.”

“What I caution you against as younglings does not apply to me as a grown man. Besides, we aim to cultivate in you qualities superior to our own.”

“Vlad,” Radu’s desperate whine begs him to stop when he sees the blaze in the Greek’s eyes that urges his brother to choose his next words wisely.

“And you were right. Alcohol is a poison for the mind. The greater the consumption, the more it weakens the intellect.”

“Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“I would not dare, efendi. But if you observe any similarities in your own behaviour…”

All that follows happens in a whirlwind of motion, so swift and fierce that not even Vlad could foresee it. The wooden stick that rested idly on the floor just a moment before now finds itself in Katavolinos’ grip. The Byzantian, no longer lounging upon the silk cushions, rises to his full height and towers over him. Vlad feels the heavy rings pressing into his skull as their teacher seizes a fistful of his hair and wrenches his head to the side. He is cast to his knees, feeling the soft slippers slip from his feet, exposing the soles to his prisoner.

The pain radiating through his feet is sharp and all-consuming, causing white flecks to dance behind his tightly shut eyes. Radu’s cries are deafening, yet they come muffled to his ears, dulled by the agony that subdues his senses. All else fades away. There is only him and the searing achiness that consumes him. When he is left alone and kneeling on the Anatolian rugs, the sharp stabs of pain give way to a deep, resonant throbbing. Each attempt to rise is met with betrayal by his own body, dragging him back to his knees.

The whimpers that invade his ears irritate him. He is almost ready to lash out at the pitiful sound. Only then does he realise the sounds emanate from his own constricted throat.

We know that the Drăculești brothers’ studies were adjusted to a similar curriculum they would be exposed to back home, especially in the studies of the Eastern Orthodox faith, rhetorics, languages, their own history and etiquette, etc. This was important to the Ottomans as they needed the possible pretenders to be prepared for their future duties in their countries. However, the boys received a dual education, studying as per Ottoman customs alongside the sultan’s sons or sons of Ottoman elites, as hostages often ended up working in the Ottoman administration. The brothers were never made to convert to Islam (because of the possibility that they might secure the Wallachian throne one day), and any references I make to their rigorous studies of the Islamic religion are my creative choice. I believe there could be a high possibility that they were taught at least the basics to understand better the sociocultural references and environment they lived in.

We do not know anything about their European teachers, only that they were most likely former Byzantine elites. Thomas Katavolinos (a Greek secretary of Mehmed II) is indeed a figure that appears in Vlad’s later life, but to deepen the plot and make it more dramatic when the time comes, I have decided to tie him into the brothers’ life much sooner. Therefore, his role as their tutor is fiction only. This is also an idea partially borrowed from the second season of Rise of Empires: Ottoman where Vlad calls both Hamza Bey and Katavolinos his teachers — it is a detail that has a lot of potential and can leave a great impact on the plot. You shall see when I get to it. ;)

Even though many people are familiar with the popular version that Vlad was tortured all the time and even imprisoned in a fortress while staying with the Ottomans, his stay there was far less horrible than this. He and Radu were treated with the dignity that was expected to be given to them as children of a foreign ruler, and so neither of them could be treated as a criminal. However, because we know Vlad was a strong-willed and rebellious hostage, he probably underwent some kind of physical punishment for his misbehaviour. Bastinado was, unfortunately, one of the most common disciplinary punishments of the era.

Despite the Islamic teachings against alcohol consumption, the Turks are a bit of an anomaly in the Muslim world (even though only around 20% of Turks drink alcohol regularly). It was no different during the Ottoman era. From historical sources, we know that Murad II did indulge in spirits — the information about his death varies, but one version states that he died stricken by apoplexy after a drinking bout. We also have historical information about Mehmed II’s own indulgence, one even resulting in a violent encounter with Vlad’s brother Radu.

Also, here is a useful little dictionary to help you understand some of the mentioned things! Sharbat (or şerbet) is a sweet drink prepared from fruit or flower petals, usually served chilled. It can be served in concentrated form and eaten with a spoon or diluted with water to create the drink. Efendi is a Turkish title of respect or courtesy, meaning sir, lord or master. In the Ottoman era, it was most commonly used to address a person with a higher form of education. In the context of this fic, the brothers use it as a title of respect towards their teacher. Mullah is an honorific title for Muslim clergy and is also used for a person who has higher education in Islamic theology and sharia law. They would educate the sons of the Ottoman elite in religion. Ayah is the name for a verse in the Qur’an.