#what is core to who they are and how much was environment? what changes and more importantly what stays the same?

[chocodile]

Amaranthine Magic System PART I: Remedial Magic For Beginners

Okay so… weird starting point, but do you remember these jerks from middle school math class? Function graphs! (I hated these things so much) The simplest possible function is a basic straight line, but by modifying the function, the graphed line can distort and take on all sorts of new shapes.

Magic is a lot like that.

The best way to describe spellcasting would be “filtering waves of energy”. Imagine a sine wave, oscillating up and down in a simple, predictable pattern. That is magical energy in its default state. It exists as background radiation throughout the whole world and permeates all living things… though some things conduct magic better or worse than others. (Magic has a lot in common with the electromagnetic spectrum in the real world)

What wizards do when they cast magic is that they amplify and tweak this ambient background energy in just the right way to contort it into a new form (lightning, a shockwave, fire, etc). The core nature of the energy doesn’t really change, but by exaggerating, filtering, and suppressing that oscillating wave in just the right amounts, in just the right places, in just the right order, it can be transformed into something very different than its base form. You could also think of it a bit like a musician playing a wind instrument, modulating the tone by covering and uncovering holes, or a puppetmaster pulling strings of a marionette—you need to deeply understand the physics at play and give each string just the right amount of slack and pull to make it do what you want.

The most common type of magical energy is magic in a neutral, passive state, just sort of existing passively as background radiation. Like the electromagnetic spectrum and gravity, it is deeply intertwined with how life evolved in this world, but also is so innate as to be largely unnoticeable. It is energy without a physical form. However, it can be harnessed and stored, given the right conduit. Under these circumstances it behaves similar to electricity.

Certain types of physical material are better at holding and manipulating magic than others. Substances that hold or amplify magic work because something about their physical molecular structure bends and filters the magic “waves” in a way that “traps” that energy inside of them, or amplifies the frequency of the waves. Nearly all crystalline structures and precious gems have some sort of magic-amplifying capability, with the best ones being highly prized and fetching crazy prices for large, pure specimens. Skilled Old Kingdom wizards could engineer such gemstones into Catalyst Stones, a special type of battery/amplifier that wizards could use to cast spells beyond their normal limits. Gemstones and crystals have been traditionally associated with wizards for this reason. However, they are far from the only material with a magical affinity—just one of the most easily recognizable.

…Additionally, other materials might have the opposite effect. Iron is well-known for its wizard-subduing properties. Simply being in a room with a large piece of iron makes a wizard feel ill and weakens their powers. Iron manacles and chains are commonly used to imprison criminal wizards. Not only do they aggressively drain magic from the air, matter, and flesh around them, they prevent the hand gestures that might allow a weakened mage to do any magical manipulation at all.

Magical energy is distributed throughout the world unevenly. Occasionally, the concentration of magic in an area is so high that the environment itself becomes effectively enchanted. A certain range of mountains might be rich in magical ores that have a subtle effect on how water in the region behaves, causing strangely shaped caves and ridges to form in the region. A woodland might be home to a large number of mushrooms that have adapted to make use of magic as a defense mechanism, causing the glen to disorient travelers who walk through it. Magic is infamous for distorting compass readings, too, forcing travelers to carry protective charms to keep their tools usable.

There are all sorts of weird subtle little things like that that can be caused by high concentrations of magic, and magically concentrated areas often have very unique biodiversity that evolved to make use of that specific environment. Discovering, exploring, studying, and documenting these regions is of great interest to many magical scholars (as well as the state interests sometimes backing them, of course).

Magic can do a lot of weird stuff in Amaranthine, but it isn’t as open-ended as most other types of fantasy magic. Things like turning oneself into a dragon are no more possible than they are in real life (unfortunately for some who may wish otherwise). You can get pretty creative with it, and there are surely techniques yet undiscovered that even Hyden doesn’t know about, but no matter how fancy your spellcasting gets, it’ll always just be “manipulating waves of energy”.

(Part II and Part III coming soon!)

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 6

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

(I can't believe I squeezed six entries out of this dang episode!!!)

agatha sees billy waking up and takes her usual moment to wipe all genuine emotion from her face and put on her mask. it's getting increasingly clear that this wretch of a woman is always wearing a mask and playing the larger-than-life uncaring witch she wishes she could be

not that she cares about you or anything.

billy does that thing children do. he doesn't say thank you or ask why she's crying, he asks about himself, his current troubles and fears, looking for guidance. that's the wonderful thing about a parent, they give a child a safe environment to grow and make mistakes and explore. A parent is, or should be, selfless. That billy feels safe doing this with agatha tells you he instinctively trusts her much more than he realizes.

agatha never lies to billy

and the way she's always drawn to teaching and explaining and guiding despite herself. deep, deep down agatha is a nurturing person who only ever got to nurture for a short time

I just realize agatha cannot actually say the name billy, can she? because of the sigil. so this is her going, I know it's still you kiddo, behind all that. I see some people arguing that agatha might actually think he's Nicky at first and personally I don't believe that's the case, the dialogue is muddy only to mislead the viewers before the big Wiccan reveal.

Two reasons agatha knew this was billy all along: she's had three centuries to sit with nicky's loss now. nicky is gone for good, no matter all her tricks and her pleading and her endless pit of sorrow, that is the one irrevocable fact that she will never be able to change. that is the cornerstone, the whole core of who agatha is today. she has lost nicky, she has committed unspeakable horrors to cope with that loss. she is afraid to die because nicky is on the other side and she cannot face him.

The second reason is that agatha loves billy for being billy, not just as a nicky stand-in. she was uniquely equipped to understand and empathize with wanda, and that's even truer for billy because he's a little boy and agatha's whole heart is wired and predisposed to reach out to him. she saw the miracle that was his birth, she saw first hand what chaos magic can do. this is a child flung out in the world carrying an immense power and no instructions on how to use it. he's capable of terrible things that could easily turn him into a monster and a pariah, and agatha is, besides wanda, the only person in the world who truly understands what that means. do you remember what happened to agatha at around the age billy is now? everything in her is demanding to guide and help. selfishly, because all that power would be hers to control. selfishly because he reminds her of herself and she wants to undo what her mother did to her. and selfishly because helping billy would in a way redeem what she did to nicky.

and also, selflessly. because she wants to help him grow and be successful and be happy.

billy created the Road to find tommy, sure. but what he's been doing on the Road is finding community. or rather, getting close to witchfolk to find out who he is in relationship to them, exploring the identity he was born with that he cannot express with his adoptive parents. he started with a lot of silly ideas on what witches should and shouldn't be and created trials that are, let's face it, rather stereotyped and demeaning. next trial is agatha and he is puzzling her out now, willing her to become the ideal witch and mentor he's looking for. he's doing it with the grace of an elephant in a china store, but that's just what being a kid is.

aaand the wall is all the way up and she runs away. but we made some progress there, didn't we?

oh to be a vampire and getting to bite patti lupone's neck

rio looks so engrossed and fascinated listening to lilia! rio just loves people, you know? she loves life in all its multifaceted forms, and that's not at odds with her job description at all. she is The Green Witch, she has embraced nature, which is to say life, so completely that all of it is important and precious to her. my headcanon is that as the original green witch she started ferrying souls because she deeply understood and accepted death as natural and organic and sought to help it along. it's funny, lilia is terrified of her but if asked, rio would have such a long list of things that make lilia special.

and that such a being would fell in love with agatha of all people?? god that is amazing. that is how you write a beautifully doomed epic love story. billions and billions of humans throughout history, and agatha is who caught her eye. and not because agatha is a serial killer mind you, that's just foreplay. it's because she is the most intense, the most interesting human Death ever came across. while others saw a damaged girl, rio saw poetry in her extraordinary complexity

and then, through agatha and nicky, rio experienced grief from a new point of view. Death, no longer impartial.

a wiser future Lilia pays another brief visit

and she's gone. her puzzled little face!

from being awkward and fearing her oddities to laughing with her about it. another step toward a deeper understanding, and acceptance, and love.

look at agatha's body language when she approaches. uncertain, arms crossed. these people have seen her without her mask now, openly weeping about billy

and then she puts her hands in her pockets and postures, ready to underplay things. pppft, crying? moi? you guys must have dreamed it.

alice with her big compassionate heart will never be able to think of agatha as cruel and distant again

agatha picks up rio's flower

rio looks at her

pretends she wasn't looking when agatha looks back

you could cut the damn tension with a knife

jen trying to include agatha??? man they did really see her cying fr

look how interested lilia is! I wish shows could just be 15 hours of women hanging out and chatting, no plot, just vibes

agatha glances at rio as if saying, you know exactly which scar this is. and rio chuckles because she remembers the story. THE INTIMACY BETWEEN THESE TWO. I'm going feral again.

what is this, camaraderie? community? perhaps even, dare I say it, friendship???

agatha doesn't know what to do with herself!

behold the textbook definition of 'awkward turtle'

oh rio's DETERMINED

'no you don't' 'yes I do' STOP IT YOU STUPID GAYS

agatha all casual like honey I've seen every inch of that body

just... the way they fell into a rhythm. the doMESTICITY.

lol jen's and alice's gaydars pinging at the same time. like somETHING FRUITY IS AFOOT. AND WE WOULD KNOW.

and fuck fuck fuck fuck I cannot believe I've run out of space again and I need to do a part 7

LOOK WHAT THESE LESBIANS ARE DOING TO ME (it'll be up in like an hour guys don't worry)

go to episode 4 part 7

[thefirstpaleontologist]

I love genderbend fics where the character is basically the same person personality wise (same morals and interests and such), but has slightly different skill sets and understandings of certain matters as a result of being socialised and treated differently by those around them.

I love "gender bending" characters but HATE HATE HATE designs where canon buff dudes are wispy little fairy ladies and canon tiny women are beefy ass male linebackers. If you're not in it for JACKED WOMEN and TWINKS then what's what's FUCKING point

[kelseytheballerina]

hot take but like, if you have to read guides and buy books and take a course on the type of personality you want to embody, I think it’s safe to say that it just isn’t you. you shouldn’t have to study for your personality or vibe or whatever. you shouldn’t have to listen to 10 hour manifestation audios while you sleep. if you’re not that person then you’re not that person.

a lot of you treat these things as if you’re an actor studying a role to perform and that can come in handy in certain cases, for example wanting to appear more relaxed or confident when you have a presentation coming up and you’re naturally meek. that’s different. or maybe there’s a part of you that already is there but you just want to allow yourself to pull it out more because you were taught to suppress it and you’re no longer in an environment that forces you to hide it and maybe you need help getting comfortable being free finally. that’s different. I’m talking about trying to stuff yourself into being a femme fetale sex bomb when you simply aren’t that kind of girl at your core. all the black dresses and heels in the world won’t make you as sexy as someone who naturally has that. doesn’t mean you can’t get closer, but you know.

I understand being drawn to certain types of women and wanting to emulate those traits and wishing that you could embody their energy, but studying these long guides and videos as if you’re taking a college class won’t do much more than make you feel like you’re putting on a performance and when you’re alone, you’ll be ready to metaphorically take off your wig, kick off your heels, and get into your pajamas bc it will be exhausting pretending to be someone you’re not for so long. even celebs you look up to who have molded themselves into a new woman we admire weren’t like that all the time because it was a performance. Marilyn had to turn that on like a switch. Beyonce has to get into Sasha Fierce mode and it takes a lot of effort.

if you are interested in adopting new personalities for whatever reason, I think maybe just keep in mind that the real you will always be there underneath and you will always be putting on airs. Marilyn was still Norma Jean under it all. Anna Nicole may have looked glamorous in her Guess ads but she was still Vickie Lynn under it all. I suppose there can be perks to playing a character, just maybe don’t get too wrapped up in it, remember that there are limitations to how much you can really change on a deep level, and maybe just learn to be okay with who you really are and make the most of that instead as it will ultimately be what you are most comfortable and natural at.

there’s a reason that after all the studying, you still aren’t her. it’s because you’re not like her and that’s okay

[ceratedfish24]

There are SO many negative nancys this season. Y’all need to cut it out. You’ve gotten so entitled.

“This was a bad wildcard” I don’t know how old you are, but I was in 3rd grade when I was taught how to give constructive criticism, and I was way younger when I learned that most people don’t like receiving unsolicited criticism. All of the players have loved the challenge of each of the wild cards. They have loved staying on their toes. If they genuinely hated it, they would have said something. Changes would be made. If it’s not interesting to you, then you can stay quiet and leave. You’ve gotten way too comfortable disrespecting people from behind a screen.

“The teams are unoriginal” Making sure that the players are having a good time is among the top priorities of this series. They are naturally going to link up with people they’re comfortable with. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you need to be put in a room with your best friends and some people you kind of know and be criticized when you gravitate towards your best friends. I don’t understand why you all are having such a problem with the concept of seeking comfort in a scary and unpredictable environment.

“Pearl shouldn’t be on a team with Cleo and Scott” well, she made her choice, didn’t she. That’s not up to you. She is an adult. She can choose who she hangs out with. Cleo and Pearl have not had significantly more of a rivalry than any other two players on the server. It seems like you’re just paying more attention to them because they’re women. Don’t try to take away from Pearl’s autonomy. Don’t try to conduct who she hangs out with. It’s really fucked up, what happened to Grian and Scar. Don’t let it happen again. Additionally, Pearl doesn’t care if you don’t think her character should be getting along with Cleo and Scott. The lore is made to fit the events of the server, and never the other way around. If you’re not creative enough to come up with a lore-reason for Pearl, Cleo, and Scott to be getting along, then I really don’t know how you’re still alive.

“Scott’s going to kill Pearl” why. Why would he do that. What record do you have of Scott betraying Pearl for no reason. The only reason he didn’t want to accept her as his ally in Double Life was because he just teamed with her in Last Life, and you all have proven just how much you’re gonna whine about a repetitive team. What history does Scott have of killing his own teammates. The biggest concern on that team is Impulse, who is notorious for holding grudges and betraying alliances. And yet your focus is on the catty two who are loyal to the core. Does that not sound like stereotyping to you? Do you even watch their perspectives? Cause you don’t act like you do.

It is a legitimate miracle that Grian is giving us another season. Be grateful, or we’re not getting another. You try coming up with balanced ideas that will last 6-8 episodes with ~15 people. See how many you come up with.

[sadokasochism]

For me, the most heartbreaking aspect of Ivan is that the poor clueless bastard didn't have the tools to express his affection in any way that didn't involve violence or manipulation, or weren't too inscrutable, quiet, or unseen to be picked up by Till.

I definitely interpret Ivan as autistic for several reasons, a big one being their Segyein teacher's notes about him:

It's just. Classic ND behaviour to me.

Not only does expressing emotion and communicating the way other kids do not come naturally to Ivan, but it's not as if he's been given a great example of coping with this from the Segyein.

Ivan managed to mask in a way that made him popular with other students, and got him in the good graces of their captors. He did everything expected of him to survive and thrive in this environment.

Then he meets Till, inscrutable and very different to the other kids, just like Ivan is. Except, Till doesn't mask. He doesn't change or try to endear himself to their captors, and he doesn't bend to anyone, no matter how much he is hurt and punished for it.

This is a new situation for Ivan, and he's never had anything to compare his feelings to. He also can't figure out how to communicate with Till, every interaction, no matter how well meaning, seems to end in failure.

I bring your attention to the cheer up comic, and how, again, autistic this interaction feels:

There could be many reasons why Ivan chose to say what he did, but to me it feels like ND bluntness not being received well. And that's fair! From Till's perspective Ivan is being a jerk for no good reason.

Instead of responding with glee towards Till laying him out (as we see from Ivan when they're a bit older), Ivan justs seems... really confused. Like he didn't expect that statement to upset Till that much, and he didn't expect Till to respond in the way he did. Everything was fine a second ago, what went wrong?

Then, Ivan uses the phrase he learned from Till in an attempt to self sooth. It might have been the first example of comfort after an injury/hurt he had ever seen, given how he defaults to it. And it was from Till trying to cheer up a flower.

This also shows some of Till's blindspots. He has grown up having to be vigilant, because violence and hurt have been a core part of his upbringing. This leads to anything he doesn't immediately, clearly understand being perceived as a threat or a slight, and so he reacts violently to Ivan's statement.

I'll also draw your attention to this comic where, as far as we know, Ivan is simply stating a true fact in a blunt manner:

In my interpretation, these types of interactions keep adding up, and Ivan is grasping at straws the whole time, trying to be closer to Till and failing every time.

Eventually, the only surefire way to get Till's attention is to piss him off, provoke him, manufacture scenarios to talk to him. I'm not excusing this behaviour, but I understand where Ivan could be coming from, from the perspective of both an emotionally immature/stunted child and/or an ND child.

Despite how much they fight and bicker, at every moment it really mattered, Ivan was there for Till. It was always Ivan coming to free him, to take off his collar or gag, and it was Ivan who led their escape.

Ivan couldn't leave Till behind when he went back for Mizi. Even with the confirmation that Till would choose Mizi over Ivan every time, Ivan couldn't leave him.

The miscommunication goes two ways though. It's insane to think that Till didn't care about Ivan at all. They were close as kids, and I doubt Till ever forgot about the escape he gave up.

We have the graduation messages, where Ivan is able to write something that could be reasonably interpreted as affectionate or fond towards Till.

Meanwhile, Till's message-

If we're being charitable with our interpretations, we can say this was Till's way of saying 'of course I remember you' and attempting to communicate that Ivan HAD left a lasting impact on him.

However, how could any reasonable person be expected to get THAT out of 'you stole my fucking pencil'? Ivan could have taken this one of two ways:

1) Omg he remembers me 🥰

2) he leans into his 'i will never be loved back' bias and thinks that Till really doesn't care about him at all

Who the hell knows what goes through that weird little brain of his. But given how Round 6 went, and what Ivan had to say in the confession comic, he obviously didn't think his impact was significant enough.

Then Alien Stage happens, and in Round 3 Ivan is FINALLY communicating his feelings in a way that is vulnerable and might even have a chance of being understood as love and yearning!

Till is unconscious through it until the very end.

Then in the next round, Mizi goes missing, and Till can't care about anything anymore.

Ivan finds him after the private performance, takes off his gag, and just holds him. Again, Till is unconscious for all of this.

Then, in Round 6, not only is Till distraught from the disappearance of Mizi, but he's given no time to process what the fuck is going on before Ivan is dead at his feet. Till might have finally had a chance to really understand where Ivan was coming from, how he really felt all this time, and Ivan DIES.

And still, Ivan's most transparent act of affection? It's delivered with violence. He's kissing a distraught Till who tries to push him away, and neither of them are happy. He puts his hands around Till's neck, not really hurting him, but it's enough to look convincing for the cameras, and it's enough for Till to go limp and wait for death. Ivan's final loving act is to give Till a soft look with blood pouring out of his mouth, that Till still does not see, and then let go before falling to the ground.

It's just a collection of failures. We see from Ivan that he truly loved Till, made a lot of selfless decisions for his sake, was filled with so much longing and affection, but he just couldn't get it across in a way that doesn't seem fucking deranged from an outsider's perspective. And when he DID manage to communicate his feelings more clearly, it was to a Till that was unconscious, or too distracted/dense/traumatised to see Ivan's actions as ones of love.

There's no guarantee that Till would have reciprocated even if Ivan had managed to communicate his feelings in a healthier way, but there was at least a CHANCE. At least Ivan could have gotten some closure, even if he was rejected.

Instead Ivan died thinking he was completely unloved by the person who he cared about more than anything else, and his last ditch effort to make Till understand was deeply flawed and uncomfortable.

If these kids had grown up any other way, maybe they could have had a chance. Unfortunately, the world they were in didn't equip them to not hurt eachother in their attempts to grow closer.

[sepublic]

We give Belos way too much credit for feeling bad about his dead brother and Grimwalkers because like. He’s a racist white guy who’s murdered a culture and damaged its land across centuries but only feels guilt for his white brother and clones. He doesn’t hallucinate any witch or demon in FtF. He never got close to any of them sure, but that’s because of his racism which just further proves the point.

What this means is that for all his ‘guilt’, Belos doesn’t think his actual motives and goals as a witch hunter are wrong, just that human (adjacent) white guys shouldn’t be hurt in the process, but if they need to be they will. There’s the external setup for Belos to maybe change because of that remorse, but the internal setup that he won’t because he doesn’t even consider what the actual crux of the issue was, that being who he killed Caleb for fraternizing with, who Caleb died to protect, who has been brutalized far more than the Grimwalkers ever have been.

I’d even argue that Philip wouldn’t have minded if Caleb moved to another Puritan colony to settle with a Christian white woman; It was not so much Caleb leaving him, so much as who Caleb left him for. People like to reduce Belos to codependency with Caleb, as if his witch hunting fantasies weren’t established before Evelyn’s arrival; Philip let those inform his takeaway that he could not follow where Caleb was going, ergo Caleb betrayed him, because even Belos’ baggage with Caleb is rooted in racism. Mind you, Belos is still killing the Grimwalkers because he doesn’t really regret it, he’ll keep doing it because abusers are paradoxical like that. The ghosts just reinforce what’s wrong with him, instead of suggesting otherwise.

I think those fics and fanart of Belos being ganged up on in the afterlife by the Grimwalkers are missing the point, to Belos it would validate his racism by saying the only people whose suffering mattered, who deserve revenge, are the white guys he wasn’t explicitly targeting. I think a good take on the Belos suffering in the afterlife trope would have him be attacked by all the witches and demons and palismen he brutalized, without a single Grimwalker nor Caleb in sight.

As you can imagine, this is another reason why Eda and co. killing Belos works; Because once again he’s focused on Luz, whose framing parallels Caleb’s ghost from FtF, and talking about how only humans matter and Belos deserves to be spared for being human. Only for the witches and demons who were the actual emotional core of the issue that Caleb died for (one of whom is the descendant of the child he saved, not that Caleb factors to her motives because it’s not about Caleb) to step in and reiterate, Nah their suffering and anger is just as important.

People set up Belos’ fratricide and murdered nephews as the worst thing he’s ever done because they also think the white boys’ suffering is more important but tbh? It pales in comparison to the irreversible damage he committed to the Boiling Isles’ environment, its culture and history, its thousands of people as a whole, etc. The Titan is dead and its arm displaced because of him, so many resources and species have been depleted. To quote Castlevania and what a black revenge-seeking anti hero was told before encountering real evil in the form of a white man who enslaves en masse, “There are worse things than betrayal.”

[lotus-tower]

it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.

children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.

schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.

there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.

i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.

they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.

there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.

i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.

imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.

[siren-nate]

The way I tend to characterize the Alan-created stick figures is that his mindset in the moment he made them defines who they are, even if their personalities and habits can change over their years of existence.

Victim was made solely to be tormented in an early 00s style violent stick figure animation. This means he views everything in terms of how much of a threat it is to him, and is singularly focused on taking revenge on his tormentor. If he's not the "victim", he's not really anything - he has no identity. He may or may not already know that Alan's a changed person who now treats his creations with kindness, but either way, it wouldn't stop him from seeking out revenge.

The Chosen One was made to be powerful, first and foremost, because the Animator wanted a challenge. That's why it's in his nature to rebel, to break the status quo, to disrupt. It doesn't mean he's evil, just that he tends to go against the grain of the current situation. At first it means he's seeking to break the Animator's control of the computer, then he says "screw destiny" by befriending the one made solely to destroy him, then they cause more chaos across the internet because it's in their nature. But the longer he stays in that, the more he thinks he needs to change, that this isn't right - because, again, he was never made to be evil, just powerful and disruptive.

That's why the Dark Lord is so fucked: he was made as a weapon. Just to destroy. His only reason for coming into existence was because the Animator needed the Chosen One dealt with. He doesn't reject the status quo, he follows it, no matter who's telling him what it is - first it's the Animator, then it's Chosen, his only friend. Whereas Chosen starts to have second thoughts, it's not in Dark's nature to do so - only to improve, to polish the violence and destruction to an absolute mirror sheen, all to impress the one person he cares about. When Chosen turns on him and the Animator is still his enemy, I think the only reason Dark is still causing destruction is because that's literally all he's ever done. It's all he knows. He can't imagine anything outside that because he has no experience with anything else.

And that's why, from a symbolic standpoint, the Second Coming is his greatest threat and the one to defeat him. She's his antithesis. Made years after everything with Chosen and Dark was over and done with, made just because the Animator was doing what he loved: creating. And unlike with Victim, she was probably intended to do more than suffer and die for black comedy.

Second's core ability is creating, no matter what environment she's in - she uses the pencil in the main series to effortlessly make living beings or tools, constantly crafts and comes up with ideas in the Minecraft series, and learns the rules of the universes around her to use them to her benefit in the Education series. Dark only knows destruction. Second only knows creation. Even after she seemingly wins in IV, she tosses the ray gun aside and starts making things now that she has free reign of the computer - she only seeks to destroy so long as there's a threat to herself or what she cares about.

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 5

masterlist // summary: the reader is depressed as fuck, going through it yall 😔 suguru finally decides to let her go because he could only take in so much without causing irreparable damage to his own mindset about monkeys. // warnings: angst, comfort (yeah geto sama became suguru for a moment), mentions of fucked up mental health.

hurts… hurts when you didn’t go to the invite suguru had for you, to walk with him in the gardens. its embarrassing whatever your condition is right now. forced to sit amongst everyone who loathes you & hates you for lunch. four days… four days are left now. last night had been bearable, you didn’t accept geto’s offer to join him in the gardens for a walk, and didn’t sleep out of the anxiety of him hurting you. hurts… his grip on your psyche hurts.

it seems detrimental to engage in a conversation amongst a group of people who clearly think they’re better than you. hate you just because you’re weak perhaps. before you realize, you’ve ended up gazing and glancing at the plate. tears flowing from your eyes and a weak sniffle escaping you.

mimiko & nanako glanced at the wounded deer they all have kept in their den. you. “she’s crying.” nanako pouts, you look so beautiful to her she wishes she could just be your friend honestly. though, she doesn’t have the guts to confront suguru about it. “sickening…” manami scoffs, looking at you. “stop crying and stop making the lunch unbearable, i can barely stand your monkey stench.”

monkey stench…

you wonder what that even means. suguru, is awfully quiet. he’s just observing you as you desperately try to wipe of your tears. “be grateful you’re given food at all. waste of space and fucking breaths.” manami snarls again, “or should i beat the shit out of you again just like when i did when you tried to slither out like a pest?”

so much hatred… these people held so much hatred it was eating you apart. scatching you, hollowing you to the very core. you don’t want to be hurt anymore. or maybe they better do a good job at it and hurt you enough so your heart stops.

“that’s fine,” suguru hums, “just focus on the lunch manami.” his words sound like an order. something no one can stand against. it was weird, how it somehow helped you feel the slightest of a shield against their sharp jaws.

you could barely finish the lunch, the food’s taste wasn’t the issue exactly. it was the environment. gently leaning the plate away with more than one-third of the food finished, you get up to leave. no one says anything to you. weird… these people feel weird.

another day passes, and suguru’s affect on you has lessened beyond imaginations. he just lets you be. you wonder why is there a change of heart like this. does he plan to kill you directly? why hasn’t he just hurt you like he usually does? neither have his lackeys. it’s eerie, how you sleep on the bed today, just like you did yesterday night & stare at a wall. the dark circles in your eyes have been daunting. you look like a sack of flesh forced to be alive. it’s unbearable. you wish it would stop. you wish your brain would stop it…

desperate- you gasp and get up and off the bed instantly. hands clutching at your scalp and tugging at your hair with a whimper as you scream cry. everything that’s happened to you so far reminds you of the hell you’re forced in. how geto suguru makes you feel, how you immediately wish this was just the biggest nightmare you’ve ever lived.

suguru… can’t sleep either. it’s weird. his mind is just not working how it should. that’s always been the problem with him. he’s always been someone who’s unfit to be a sorcerer. he cares so much. that’s why he couldn’t stand his comrades & his own friends dying because of filthy monkeys who create those very curses. then why is his heart being torn apart brutally at the sounds of you crying. why is he taking a walk right ‘outside’ your door. this makes no sense. why is he being partial to you? to check his resolve, he’s killed seven monkeys today. all those who should have been useful but weren’t. then there’s you, tearing him apart just with the sound of your sniffles. is it because you’re beautiful? no- that’s not it. it’s just because he doesn’t know where to place you in his self righteous scale of morals.

you need a breath of fresh air, and when you lurch forward to your bedroom door and open it, you’re left aghast when you see geto sama standing in front. you lean back a few steps. blinking rapidly to see him clearly with the foggy vision you hold due to your tears. “i- i- wasn’t - i wasn’t trying to run.” you babble, observing him. watching his feet, his face. “please believe me i wasn’t trying to run- i was just trying to have some fresh air.” you explained yourself, sobbing out at the bone chilling fear.

“please please please — “ you fall into your knees at his silence, face covered with both hands as you break down. “please don’t hurt m-“

suguru just looks at you, eyes softening, his own eyes glazed at your torment. his little monkey pet. “i believe you.” he hums, walking towards you and crouching. he doesn’t need to necessarily touch you. but he does anyway. holding the back of your head and forcing you to lean against his chest. soft pats on your head as you cry out. he is silent. saying anything seems insolent. he can’t really do anything but hope you quiet down with that. why is he even doing this… he doesn’t have time to think through it. it’s impossible.

no… you’re changing him. he can’t have you do that. you can’t change him. that’s impossible. he has a goal to meet. he has to erradicate all the monkeys in this world to make sure sorcerers can live freely. he can’t be sympathetic for a fucking monkey—

“i’ll let you go tomorrow.” he hums, and your eyes widened, what is he even saying? “your parents will give the money within three says, i can’t stand you crying out everyday like a bad omen in my own house.” he hums, watching your facial expressions change to one of pure shock. “you understand? now don’t make me change my decision by crying anymore.”

you desperately nodded, wiping your tears over and over and over like a traumatized child. it is heart breaking really… maybe when he’s without you, and away from you, he would get back the losing and faint sight of his goal.

the next morning, you wake up, groggy as ever. whatever happened last night seems like a fever dream. you don’t even have the energy to think it was reality. maybe geto was tired of you crying and screaming & wanted to shut you up temporarily. yeah, that’s what it seems like at the end of the day. you drag yourself to the bathroom, and take a shower. thoughts jumbled up in the brimming brain fog. you’re tired, your mind & body are unable to keep up with the rapid anxiety you have burning within you.

“good morning.” you blink when you hear geto’s voice while combing through your hair. “morning.” you respond, gazing at him through the mirror. “let’s go.” he raises a brow, watching you, scanning you. maybe you will smile…

maybe… he will see you smile for the first time ever. he’s spend a few hours yesterday night trying to imagine how pretty you would look when you’re smiling brightly. when your lips curl up… do you smile with your eyes? would they squint up? how would you look? he can’t wait but want to see you blossom like that. pathetic really.

“yeah.” there is no response apart from that. you’re dreading this. you don’t know if you would be able to survive when you’re out of here. the fear that’s been instilled inside you wouldn’t just go away like that. as heartbreaking as it is, your body has given up for now.

and that’s exactly what happens. everything passes in a haze. the echoes of multiple footsteps as you walk to the estate gate & sit in the car, eyes fixated at your nails and scratching them up throughout. you don’t register anything until you actually reach home. a faint beep sound is the only thing you hear and the faintest echoes of your parents crying and hugging you. your friends visiting you in the coming next few days and weeks. everything is nothing but a faint echo. you feel like you’re drifting apart, losing a sense of reality. you don’t remember how long it has been since you’ve been back. or if your parents gave suguru the money anyway, or if you are still dreaming about this whole thing and stuck in the geto estate. maybe you died when he carved the word “monkey” in your arm and these are the last bits of delusional memories your brain has in store for you before finally pulling you into slumber….

depressed, numb, and done for. you are done for.

[foone]

You know, It doesn't matter if you belive in God or Science or Both, trans people are natural and awesome.

God? Well, we humans are made in God's image. We're all a little figurine of the Creator, and we Create. We create ourselves, our environments, our situations... God made the world and Man gave names to all the animals. We catalog and explore and determine and change. We make the wine and the bread, God made the grapes and the wheat. Of course we make our genders just as much as we make houses and clothes and stories and names. There's a bit of the divine in all of us and it's the part of us that Creates and Loves.

And Science? Oh boy! We are tool-users of the highest order. Changing things is just what we do. We built the pyramids and the dog and the horse and the computer. We've built cities out of swamps and lakes and put flags on the moon. Changing things so they work better for us is just our very nature. We heal our broken bones and build glasses and hearing aids and wheelchairs, because fuck our limitations. We invented corn and the Amazon rainforest. Transformation is in our nature just as much as being bipedal and featherless. We see a world and a body and a mind that doesn't work for us, and we change it. We build roads and skyscrapers and prosthetics and drugs, and the resulting humanity is better. We spent thousands of years building our world and our knowledge of how to change it and we're very good at it by now.

My point is, it doesn't matter if you think we're a unique creation by an omnipotent creator or a hairless ape that evolved to be particularly good at being social tool-users who can cook and throw things, our nature is Creation and Transformation. Of course some humans would be transgender and non-binary and generally genderqueer: those things are just reflections of what it means to be human.

God gave Adam the first tongs so he could smith, and the ape knapped a stone into a point so a spear could be deadlier than just a rock. Transformation is the core of humanity. Of ourselves, our environments, our tools, our stories. There's never been a humanity that was unchanging and rigid: we're not made of stone. We're made of clay and wood and reeds. Endlessly shapeable and cuttable and weavable. We decide what shapes and purposes we are meant for.

[zo3mess]

From The Bottom (Of My Heart) | Part 2 to Bitter-sweet

Summary: Officers from other towns were reassigned to help the understaffed police force in Evergreen after the butterfly massacre. The good old game of cat and mouse begins with Vigilante continuing his shenanigans and one police officer determined to catch him. Except it is not entirely clear who is chasing whom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, thigh riding, foul language, forced proximity, reader has slight anger issues,  female reader, no Y/N, Minors do not interact

Word count: 4.2k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: This needed to continue, right? So here is another part. I’m currently writing another one, so this will be 3 part story. Did you guys know that writing smut for your favorite character is a great way to relax in between exams and panicking? Yeah, now you do, give it a shot. Anyway sorry for any grammar mistakes and stuff. Love ya <3

When you started working for the Evergreen police department, nobody warned you that there was not much work to do. Not the dynamic part, the one you were living for. Your coworkers were happy with the lack of risk, rather hiding behind stacks of paperwork and handling noise complaints and petty conflicts.

The working morale was benevolent at best. After one especially tedious shift at the precinct, you packed yourself up to go for a walk, to scout out the sleepy town. You longed for anything to put you back in motion.

After the whole fiasco with Vigilante you were unsure of your every move. Mind bent, soul crushed. The way you just gave yourself away, determination, ideals being snatched from you the second his bloody lips collided with yours in a dark alley.

Thankfully, soon enough you found yourself running after a car thief, poor guy did not see you coming from the shadows, while he was prying open the trunk of an expensive car. Hope started to spark again deep in your core. The pleasant burn of lungs as cold air filled them with every shallow breath, flashing lights blinding you, legs cramping. Oh you needed this after your slump.

What you did not need was a well-known person closing in behind you. His heavy footsteps gave him away. Vigilante…

“Who are we chasing?” He caught up to you with ease, his speed always surprised you, however that was the last thing you appreciated at the moment. This was your time to shine, not his.

“Where did you come from?” You asked him breathlessly and sprinted faster. For a car thief, that guy was goddamn fast. You couldn’t get distracted with Vigilante barging in your chase. But him being by your side rather than the one you were chasing was a pleasant surprise.

He didn’t give you an answer to your question, he much rather came up with a stupid idea. “Who catches him first gets to kill him!” The lively voice catches you off guard every time, talking about murdering people like it was nothing.

“Don’t you dare! I need him alive!” That pleasant surprise turned into an unpleasant one in a second.

“Run faster then, chicken!” He’s laughing. Of course he was laughing. How could he not. Everything was a game for him, no real stakes, no real consequences. Well… Game on Vigilante.

You kept running after your target for quite a while, feet began to trip over each other, vision getting blurry, not noticing the change of environment. The thief led you from the town center, aiming for abandoned buildings, construction site long lost and forgotten.

That was where you finally got an advantage, leaving Vigilante behind you while you both zigzagged through empty halls until you reached a massive room that made you wonder how is this structure still standing. Rubble, trash, graffiti, skeletons of dead birds covered the ground and there was a giant pit in the middle of the room.

The criminal ran right by the hole and you were close behind, just a few more seconds you would tackle him. Except Vigilante had other plans, his ego would not allow him to lose this. Once you catch the bad guy before him and the next you will think you can catch the infamous Vigilante.

No, he could not let you win. Somewhere deep inside he found an extra strength to side up with you. The plan was to just slightly shove you out of the way to earn leverage.

Unfortunately for you, he miscalculated the force he did it with. Weak knees buckled under you and your body toppled to the side.

Before you could fall to your doom into the abyss, you grabbed his arm in one last attempt to save yourself. And unfortunately for Vigilante, his legs did not support him either. With united screams, you both fell down the hole.

You landed with a loud huff and painful groan. Everything hurt as hell. This evening was going far worse than you anticipated. Was it in your fate to mess up anything you touched?

You heard Vigilante cry out next to you, lying like a starfish on the ground. It was all his fault you ended up at rock bottom. Metaphorically and literally. You got onto your feet with struggle and sharp pain jolted through your whole body.

“Are you alright? You hit your head pretty hard.” For a moment you were actually afraid for his well-being, even though you should hit him twice as hard for his sudden ambush.

“ ‘Tis but a scratch.” He got onto his feet quite quickly and brushed himself off. Dust, rubble and dry leaves that got carried inside by a strong wind stuck to his suit, drowning the bright white and blue stripes in grey.

“Great, you’re talking nonsense.” You shook your head and limped past him, analyzing your surroundings in the low light of the dawn. He just shot you a glance but did not say anything in defense of his Monty Python reference.

It seemed like an empty pool, with colorless tiles that barely stuck to the walls. Only water ever filling this tank were puddles of dirty rainwater and muck.

Edges were too high for you to reach, maybe if you ran up the wall, you would be able to get to the surface. However, the missing strength was undermining that perfect plan. Vigilante had the same thinking as you, except for the realization that the plan will ultimately fail. You just watched with a gleeful smile as he tried to jump up over and over again with no outcome.

“If you give me a leg up, I could help you out once I’m on the surface.” You threw the idea in the air like it was nothing, you really needed his help though.

“You’re out of your mind, you’ll call for backup and I won’t have a chance to run. You boost me up! I can pull you out.”

“I don’t trust you, you’re gonna leave me here.” You half expected he would defend himself against all the accusations. But tension sparked in the air and it made you realize that it was the truth. Your precinct would probably receive an anonymous phone call about a person stuck in a hole on a construction site. But how long would it take for him to report it?

You were sure you heard a loud crack when you fell. Wishfully a delusion, in reality, it was the walkie-talkie that broke thanks to the impact. And phone signal? Of course not. You let out another disappointed groan when you found out.

“If you don’t wanna help me, fine. But know that my coworkers will notice I’m gone and will look for me.”

“Doubt that,” He walked past you to the other side and sat down with his head thrown back against the wall “You’ll change your mind.”

He did not care at all. His suit shielded him perfectly from the cold wind that had been afflicting Evergreen for several days.

You walked all over, trying to catch some signal on your phone, looking around and trying to find a way to get out of this situation while a focused hawk followed your every move with a burning stare.

“Shit, officer, are you shivering?” His voice was full of fake concern, if only you were able to see his eyes you would see mocking puppy eyes to match his words. “I heard the justice is best served cold, I thought you cops would be used to lower temperatures.”

“And I’ve heard cold-blooded animals don’t mind cold. No wonder you’re fine.” You snapped back with an equally fake tone and looked away from him. You wrapped your hands around yourself, rubbing to keep yourself warm at least a little bit. He was right, goosebumps were rising on your skin.

“Hilarious! You should have been a comedian. Maybe that way you wouldn’t have fallen into a pit and taken me with you.” He pointed his finger at you accusingly. It made you stop in your tracks, eyes wide with unbelief. How dare he accuse for it.

“Maybe if you did not poke your nose into my business we wouldn’t be here at all!” You scoffed at him in return and rolled your eyes. Like it was your fault. If he did not shove you to make room for himself you would not have ended like this.

“Please, you looked desperate for help.” Your blood has already been boiling and this was a final blow. Spare metal pipe lying close to you was viewed as far too tempting. In a second you bent down and threw it at him. Vigilante dodged, even though the pipe was thrown far off, crashing against the wall a few inches away from his head.

“See? You can’t even aim!” His laugh drowned the frustrated noise you made in sheer freakout. You decided to follow his lead and slid down the wall on the floor. You were already freezing, the icy ground made you shiver even more, but your legs ached, you needed a rest.

You sighed with exhaustion and bent your knees to your chest, tucking your head down, eyes closing just for a second. Vigilante’s laugh was still ringing in your ears, at this point you were sure it was forced. You simply had to wait it out, someone from your work will eventually notice you’re gone and will look for you. At least that is what you hoped for.

You curled up into a tight ball, breathing heavily, trying to calm down strung nerves. You did not care how weak you might have looked at the moment. You needed comfort. You failed to catch a criminal, had an overall shitty day, fell into a pit on an abandoned construction site and were stuck with Vigilante laughing at you once again. A psychopath that broke into your home and fucked you dumb. A psychopath you swore to catch. Path to glory was not going according to plan at all.

You kept thinking about the best option to get out of there in case no one came in time, as well as contemplating the strange relationship you started with the guy in front of you. You could almost feel his burning gaze on your body, but were not brave enough to check what he was doing.

The crinkling of wrapper interrupted your train of thought. You opened one eye just in time to see Vigilante stuffing his mouth full of a chocolate bar while humming away some tune. He looked so childish. Sitting criss-cross applesauce, mask familiarly rolled up again, snacking and mouthing away text of some song that was stuck in his head.

He did not owe you anything, however part of you felt a bit betrayed he did not offer you a bite.

“Do you always carry around snacks?” You meekly asked, this time trying to sound friendly. Maybe a nice attitude was in place, considering you would be stuck together for some time. Plus if you were mean to him, you would never persuade him to boost you up and get you to the sweet, sweet freedom.

“Only when I plan to be lost in the middle of nowhere with a big meanie who throws pipes at me.” He looks up to you and finishes his chocolate bar with a single bite while you stared at him back and rolled his mask back down. “I mean… I bring some food with me sometimes. I get peckish during patrols, no biggie.”

In the end, you both realized that arguing would not help your whereabouts. You nodded to his answer and shivered again when the wind blew into your face with freezing intensity. What would you give for a mask like Vigilante right now, he was all warm and cozy inside his suit.

“Come here..” He stretched his hands towards you, the sudden change in atmosphere took you aback. “Have you heard about penguins?”

“I know they exist, yeah?” Your brows furrowed with confusion, basically like every time he opened his mouth. What was he babbling about this time?

“When it is too cold they cuddle and share body warmth,” His hands still hovering in the air, now making grabby hands at you. “You will freeze until someone finds us here. Unless you wanna help me get up?”

“No way.” Mind was set with the opinion he would just leave you once you helped him out of this hole, maybe his idea was the best option for warming up.

With sluggish steps you walked over to him. Vigilante focused on your scrunched eyebrows, a thing you absentmindedly made in sheer embarrassment, but decided to not comment on it. However, when he saw the uncertainty in your eyes, his hands reached out for yours to guide you down in his hold.

What was the probability of ending up tangled around Vigilante again? Pretty high appartenly. Was it you? Were you the reason you always get into situations like this? You’d much rather blame it on fate. Life has a weird sense of humor.

You straddled his middle and awkwardly hugged him back. Thankfully Vigilante did not mind you were shivering in his hold, moving around, trying to find a comfortable position. He simply held you close to his body.

“Can I ask you something?” Was that worry in his voice you could hear? You hummed in agreement instead of actually answering.

“Why are you after me? Other officers like- weren’t happy with what I was doing, but they never chased me when they saw me or anything. Why do you care?”

Damn good question. Maybe he deserved an explanation of why you were busting his nuts all the time.

“Since I was little I’ve dreamed about being a hero. But I’m no Superman, no Batman, I don’t have god-like powers or millions of dollars,” Cautious words spilled from your mouth. Who would have guessed you’d be telling your life’s story to Vigilante. “And I wanted to make a difference, to catch criminals. If I came to Gotham with zero experience with catching real villains I would be just another nobody.”

“I’m not a villain-“

“Neither a hero.” You interrupted him. So what was he? Not a villain, not a hero. He was someone flickering in the middle, in the little grey area. A nuisance messing with your idea of good and evil.

“So if you came to Gotham with me on your list…” He fell silent at the end and his hold on you loosened.

“I would be somebody.” Now that you said it out loud, to him, you realized how stupid it sounded. Like in elementary school, when you had to have the same toys as others to fit in. This time you had to have a good history of arrests.

You were able to feel his fingers stretch on your back, hear a long exhale, almost feel his heart beating. Maybe the truth hurt more than any of his ideas of why you kept meeting each other.

“You’re not nobody to me.”

Your heart sank. His words made you feel… comfort. The one you kept looking for the whole time. All your life your achievements have driven you forward, ambitions controlling your every move. And to be praised even when everything was crumbling under your hands?

No matter how his embrace loosened, you hugged him tighter in reaction to his sweet words. An unspoken ‘thank you’.

The air was thick with tension. Emotional. Physical. And for a while you just listened to shared breaths, dripping water echoing somewhere in the room, wind whistling around your ears. You kept moving around, trying to adjust to more comfortable position. It didn’t even pass your mind how you were affecting Vigilante under you, until you felt something pressing into the crest of your hip.

“Is that a gun or your dick?“

“You can guess,“ He giggled and pressed himself closer to you. “I’ll give you a hint, it’s fully loaded.”

“I’d rather not know.” ‘Vigilante, don’t get horny in the most inappropriate time’ challenge. Level impossible. You wondered how this guy managed to work so far, he just appeared at random places, did the most odd things, and got surprise boners at any given moment.

There was something that fascinated you about Vigilante. At first, it seemed he had some sort of routine, you soon found out that was not completely true. The more you were after him, studying him and now being given a chance to get him to know on an almost personal level, you realized he acted on impulse with little to no plan whatsoever. In case there were some sort of plans for his actions, they were sculpted on different frequencies your brain could not comprehend.

His dick throbbed in his pants with need. Every time you were close his brain threw logic out of the window. Magnetic attraction controlled his and your brain with such cruelty. He experimentally jutted his hips up. And again and again. Bulge rubbing against your core ever so lightly.

“Don’t-“

“Don’t what?” He immediately stilled and lifted his head. Unsure eyes stared at you through the bright red visor.

Don’t what…. Don’t do this? Don’t tempt me into giving myself to you? Don’t give another blow to my already shattering views? Don’t make me feel something I haven’t felt in eternity? Don’t make me feel alive…

“Don’t stop.”

You didn’t even notice how tense he had become when you stopped him with panic in your voice. But now, with your words of confirmation, he molded against your freezing frame with such natural grace it made you question your reality for a split second.

Two cold bodies moved in waves with each other, creating fire to not only get rid of the crawling cold but also to melt the ice-covered hearts.

His face was hidden in the crook of your neck and despite the mask, you were able to feel the hot breath he puffed out. And he felt the same sensation from you, quiet moans were silenced by his suit, but still, he felt the warmth of your lips.

You held each other in such a tight embrace you were afraid he would squeeze out your last breath. But did you mind it? No, not really. He kept bunching up your clothes in his hand with every little move. Scrunching and letting go, scrunching, letting go.

The silence of the night was getting interrupted by heavy breathing, whimpers, and shuffling of clothes. It wasn’t enough for Vigilante, his mind had a tendency to run off with quietness, even when he was in the middle of bucking up his hips against yours. So he chose what he always did. Talking.

“Fuck, it feels good,” Vigilante hissed out throught gritted teeth “I thought humping was for horny teens.”

“And for two idiots like us.” He was right, it felt too good to stop.

“Yeah, yeah”  he chuckled and drove himself to you faster. The friction in his pants became unbearable. “I bet you’re so fucking wet for me right now. Tell me, are your panties soaked?”

“Oh God, you’re gross.” His words made you smile nonetheless.

“You love it though. You love me,” Poor boy sounded so wrecked when his set pace stuttered “Tell me you love me.” Last pained whine before he stilled and came on the spot. Cock flaring and twitching in his pants, cum staining his boxers.

This time you had a chance to watch Vigilante ride out his orgasm, and even without seeing his face, it looked beautiful, it sounded beautiful.  You waited patiently for him to calm down and once he locked his tired eyes with yours he was able to enjoy the sweet smile you gave him.

“I hate you.” You could not resist the temptation to answer to his wish with another snarky remark.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” One of his hands left your waist and tucked a few stray hairs behind your ear, he was being sweet again, but his tone was downright sarcastic and mean “You sound like a broken record. Did you cum?”

“You can guess.” You answered with a mocking tone and rolled your eyes, yet another involuntary smile appeared.

His strong arms lifted your hips just enough to seat you on his thigh, straddling the big tense muscle. Hands enveloped your ass and a sigh left your lips when he started guiding you to grind on him. “Go on then, take what you need. At least you will warm up more.”

You exhaled and leaned your forehead on his padded shoulder. Face covered with cold sweat that formed with each roll of your hips, dust and debris smudged your skin. You were dirty, tired and overall worn out,  yet a weird sense of peace filled your insides.

Vigilante pressed your body close until there was no inch of space between, fingertips digging in the cloth of your jacket, masked face planted at the crown of your head. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

Barely audible praise and promises soon turned into soft buzzing in your ears and they kept you going despite the ache. The delicious feeling was neverending. You were already pretty close before, it did not take long to be tethering on the edge again.

Vigilante was enjoying every second of it, his pretty bratty girl riding his thigh with such fervor, gasping and whimpering for him. He wasn’t that dumb to say you’re ‘his’ out loud, you would swipe that idea off the table immediately.

But in his mind, you two were tangled to the point of no return. Even if you did arrest him and leave, you’d be forever his in those regretful memories. Your name would be on his lips to the end of times just like it is now. The only thing keeping you from floating away on the intense pleasure.

“Come on, cum for me.” A simple command that threw you over the edge. Your body seized in orgasmic bliss, twitching and shaking while Vigilante held you tightly.

A few minutes of calm down cleared your mind and you quickly realized the position you were in. If anyone came to save the missing officer, they would see you cuddling with the guy wanted for multiple counts of murder.

So you rolled away to sit next to him, shivering immediately when his hands left your body. He did not want to let go, you became his only want and only need. He would sit in the cold pit, in the middle of the night, with freezing wind blowing over his head, hungry, thirsty, sleepy, if it meant you would stay in his arms a bit longer.

“Shit.” You could not help but laugh, running your hand through messy hair and wiping away droplets of cold sweat.

“Hey uhm… ” After a few beats, Vigilante spoke up carefully “Are you okay?”

He was already staring at you when you turned your head to look at him, sitting on the ground like a rag doll, completely spent just like you. Your lips pressed into a thin line when you got up with weak legs. “I’m gonna help you up. But promise me you won’t leave me here.”

“I swear on my dead mother.” He jumped up to his feet and got closer to you in an instant under the promise of getting out of there.

“That’s dark, dude.” You brushed it off, but your head got into detective mode right away. He just carelessly threw you another piece of information about his real identity.

He just snorted in retaliation. After you decided on the best place to climb up, you allowed him to stand up on your connected hands and tried your best to lift his heavy build. With a struggle, but successfully after all, Vigilante climbed up over the edge. To keep his promise, he offered you his hand when you ran up the wall yourself and pulled you up.

“Anything else I can help you with?” You couldn’t care less about his smug question, saying like he just saved your life. Truth be told, this was a big point for him, maybe you hated him a bit less.

“You can walk me back to town, this place gives me creeps.” If luck was on your side, you would not see this half-collapsed building ever again.

That night you parted ways on weird terms. Awkward ‘goodnight’ and pat on the shoulder. Both of you were tired and quite frankly confused about the state of your entanglement. If you did not fall asleep the second your head hit your comfy pillow, you would be thinking about Vigilante for the rest of the night. Those caring touches and comforting affirmations, his over-the-top competitiveness, his dirty talk you wished you heard more of.

The next day, when you were leaving for work, you bumped into a surprise on your front lawn. The pleasant/unpleasant surprise was knocked out and tied car thief you were chasing the night before. His bruised face was pressed in the wet grass and a lousily scribbled note was lying next to him, reading ‘For my favorite enemy’.

Vigilante just upped the game.

[finniestoncrane]

BTAA!Scarecrow x GN!Reader, word count: 2k commission: jonathan experiences the joys of getting to be the victim for a change, and you are more than happy to oblige if it means getting to test out your theory that nothing can actually scare him 🎃🧡 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: roleplay, bondage, sensation play, impact play

It was a willing ‘kidnapping’. For all that Jonathan had studied film and screen, scrutinised and admired the various acting techniques of the horror star he loved so dearly, his acting skills were below par. But it hadn’t stopped him from insisting that there had to be a theme, a plot, to your change in the scheduled programming.

If he was going to relinquish his position as the father of fear, it was still going to be under his terms.

“You know, I always found myself tutting at those scream queens. Who falls over that often? Let alone when you’re being chased by a nightmare beyond your imagination…”

Jonathan’s eyes flitted to you quickly. Even now, there was still a predatory glare in them. That natural inclination towards control and dominance still lingering a little, despite the situation he, very willingly, found himself in. 

“... Now I understand. They wanted to be caught. To be the victim. It’s quite delicious, actually.”

His gaze fell to his wrists, bound to the chair he sat on, the soft, specialty rope equally tight around his ankles. He looked the perfect victim. Dishevelled, sweating, shirt on but unbuttoned exposing his soft stomach and chest, lightly peppered with greying hairs. Only his underwear covered the bottom half, giving you a glimpse of the obvious bulge at the front where his semi-erect cock stole the stage, twitching each time you came closer to him, fear and excitement ruling his reactions. 

“Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe it gets boring being the big, bad, villain. And maybe I needed a little subversion of expectations. Either way, this is a very interesting twist.”

The quieter you were, the more he spoke, filling in the silence with his rambling, a nervous trait, or perhaps just one that signified how impatient he was, how badly he wanted the real fun to begin. 

“I’m so used to every convention, every trope. But this? This is something new. This is how I felt when Pamela Voorhees was revealed to us. When we saw Norman in his mother’s dress and that terrible wig. When Kramer stood up from that bloody puddle in the middle of the bathroom floor. This is a genre defining moment.”

You lifted the satin scarf from the table where you had laid out your instruments slowly and carefully, allowing Jonathan a glimpse at what was to come, setting the scene, allowing the tension to build. His heartbeat was almost audible from where you stood in front of him, the steady thuds louder as you leaned in to him, tying the scarf around his head and adjusting it over his eyes until his vision was completely blacked out. 

“Ah, heightened senses? Or intentionally taking away an important one that allows for security in unfamiliar environments? Either way, I’ve got goosebumps!”

He was giddy, an almost childlike glee lilting in his words as he wiggled excitedly in the chair. Of course, the aim of the session was to please him, but you wanted to scare him too, and that still seemed like an impossible feat. 

Despite that, however, he still seemed enthusiastic about his lower position on the food chain. The moment his vision was rendered useless, his skin began to prickle with a warmth that started deep in his core, the slight twitch of his cock as he listened carefully for your movements was a dead giveaway of his obvious excitement.

“You know, this is often why horror movies are so dark, at least modern examples. Darkness is terrifying, what’s hidden there is left to our imagination. It’s a cheap and easy way to conjure terror without doing much.”

With your fingers hovering over them, dancing with delight, you tried to decide which of your tools to use first, eventually settling on the pinwheel. Something sour to begin, you could always soothe him afterwards if need be.

“Not that I think you’re looking for the easy way out, it’s more of an observation, a chance to educate you on- ooooh!”

Jonathan’s lecture was cut short, mostly of his own accord, as he felt the sharp points of the pinwheel begin to cross over his bare thighs in light tracks. You were careful to keep the pressure light as you pressed it towards the inner, softer areas, and back out again. 

“Actually, you could be a little rougher with the- ah, ah, ah…”

“Jonathan.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Be quiet. I’m not asking you. I am telling you. Keep your mouth closed from here on out…”

You lifted your free hand to his cheek, a smile curling up on the corner of your mouth as he flinched at first then settled into the caress.

“... or you’ll really suffer, ok?”

“Y-...”

He silenced himself, immediately obeying your instructions, and nodded his head, hair falling loose from the tidy parting and falling in front of the silk scarf. 

Pleased with his ability to take an order, you increased the pressure of the pinwheel as a treat, finding yourself far more excited than you imagined by the small dots it left in Jonathan’s skin. He hissed a little, but never uttered any of the safe words you had agreed on, and each time you ramped up the pain, testing his limit, reaching his threshold, his smile only grew wider in response. 

When you finally stopped, deciding to move on to the next implement of torture, as Jonathan had called them, you could feel him arching his back in an attempt to keep you near him, his wrists straining against the ropes until he sat back down in the seat and made an effort to be patient. 

As far as his preferences went, it was becoming clear that Jonathan wasn’t a soft person, and his lack of pain threshold had begun to intrigue you. So the next item you picked up was the riding crop. You’d felt the pleasure of it before on your own flesh, Jonathan’s fist clenched tight around the end as he brought it down against your rear. He’d smiled as you yelped, a cruel satisfaction in coaxing any kind of animalistic sound from you. You wondered if he’d like to know what sounds he might make.

With the end of the crop hovering just over his bare thigh, you swatted down quickly, not touching his skin, but letting the woosh of the cool air give him a hint at what was to come. And, as predicted, as hoped, Jonathan’s body twitched and he let out a quiet exclamation. 

“Oh… are you tricking your audience into believing that this is a thriller? Offering up suspense before the true horror follows? Is that the twist?”

Despite the smug tone he was trying to convey in his words, you could hear his voice trembling ever so slightly. There was worry behind it. Excited worry, but worry all the same. You wondered how soon you might be able to get terror out of him, if at all. 

It was all well and good keeping up the slow build. Easing him into what was to come for him. That was what he wanted, after all. You’d seen his eyes widen when the third act of a film opened up, the tense but manageable pace of the first hour giving way to a thundering and panic-inducing climax. That’s what he wanted for his body. To be ravaged, hunted, terrorised. You could see it now in the way his fingers scratched at the arms of the chair, how his stomach tensed as he let his imagination run wild. Anticipation built, and it would hopefully give way to the delicious adrenaline rush of fear. You wanted to give him that, a good scare. 

With a quick movement, snapping through the air, you brought the crop back down again, pulling it back with a creeping grin as you watched the red welts form almost immediately on his legs, almost magical in the way they were created from nothing but the impact. Knowing it would smart, you sat down on his lap, watching him wince as you put pressure on his newly bruised flesh. 

Closing in on him, listening to his breath hitch and quicken as you dove into his neck. With your tongue pressed out, you let it drag up the front of his throat, watching the veins and tendons pop as he tensed against the surprisingly gentle touch. It was what he needed, but not what he wanted. The contrast was sweet, but only for a moment. And then you were both back to needing the blood lust.

Your teeth sank into him, sharp and tight, a force he hadn’t expected, and his wince, the sharp mewl that followed it, only made you bite down harder. And as that surprise fell away, you offered him another, raising your hand and placing your fingertips to his throat, increasing the pressure little by little, watching his gasps become shallower, more strained. The more he choked, the more he struggled, the harder he seemed to get.

Below the blindfold his eyes were widening, pupils dark and sparkling with excitement. His mouth hung open in abject terror as what was left of the air in his lungs finally expired, and his life flashed before his eyes as he tried to refill them. You eased up, watching him take a deep, panicked breath, enough for him to be able to answer you, then you closed your fingers again, speaking quietly, so soft in comparison to how you were treating him. 

“Tell me you want me to hurt you, Jonathan.”

His choked response was filled with enthusiasm. 

“I do, I really do.”

You leaned in further, lips touching, teasing, the shell of his ear.

“Are you scared?”

There was a pause, long enough that you realised he was purposefully avoiding the question. You tensed your fingers against his throat once more, watching his fingers scratch against the chair. He might not actually be all that scared, but he knew what you wanted to hear. And with a conniving little smile at the corner of his mouth, he answered.

“Oh, I’m just absolutely terrified.”

It was dripping in sarcasm, the kind of disingenuous statement you’d heard him make to his victims when they pleaded for mercy and he was stringing them along. Infuriating, almost. Of course, you’d set out with the main goal of pleasing him, and you’d succeeded. But you both knew that what you really wanted, almost equally desiring it, was to have his heart racing, chest pounding, as he let fear find him. 

Beneath you, you could feel his cock throbbing, desperate for a release, the tension ramping up. Incomplete. No grand finale. No closing scene, not even a cliffhanger. 

The monster was always scarier when left to your own imagination. When nothing was given away.

Without a word, you stood up and away from him, listening to his whimpers as he gathered his breath. He waited, breath hitching, for the next act. But it wasn’t coming. Even as he spoke your name, a quiver on the third or fourth time he asked for you, you refused to let him know where you were. You’d kept your footsteps imperceptible as you made your way to the corner by the door, content to find a good spot to watch him lose his mind in sensory deprivation. 

There he was, tied in place, blind to the room and so blind to where you were hiding from him. He called your name once more. Never the safe word, he wasn’t about to admit defeat. But you could hear the desperation in his words. 

You were going to let him worry. He knew that, deep down, even despite his pleading. 

It wasn’t fair, to resort to jumpscares, to torment him. But it was the only thing that seemed to work. Deny him the pleasure, deny him the happy ending he wanted. 

And it was working. He could feel himself edging closer to the end, core tightening as he wondered when you would jump out at him from the darkness, like the monster he hoped you were.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

If I see one more post trashing on the Sonic movies just because they're not like the games and because of the human characters I'm going to explode and then punt the sun itself into their faces

GUUUYYYSSSSS. THERE'S THIS MAGIC THING CALLED A MULTIVERSE. THE SONIC MOVIES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THE GAMES, THEY ARE IN AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE UNIVERSE. YOU SHOULD NOT BE JUDGING THEM BASED ON HOW WELL THEY FOLLOW THE GAME CANON, BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT THE GAMES. THE MOVIES AND THE GAMES CAN COEXIST AS SEPARATE UNIVERSES OF THE SAME CHARACTERS LIVING THEIR LIVES IN DIFFERENT WAYS, MKAY??

Once you accept this I can almost guarantee you'll be a much happier fan. I can testify. 😘

Sonic Wachowski ≠ Game!Sonic. Because they grew up in different environments and around different people in different circumstances, and that changed the way they turned out. I believe that if Wachowski grew up the same way Game! did, he would've turned out like Game! did. I also believe that if Game! grew up the same way Wachowski did, he would've turned out like Wachowski did. The core of this character is the same. In both the movies and the games, he's the fastest thing alive, he LOVES running, he loves his friends, he loves chili dogs, he loves living, and he will fight for what he believes is right. 💙

Just take into account the different worlds, the different lives, the different influences, and the fact that the movies are not trying to imitate the games (I thought this was obvious from day 1?) and it'll be a lot more fun in this fandom for you. In fact, you'll find you're a lot happier when you're actually taking time to love and appreciate the things you're interested in rather than just nitpicking about everything. 👌😜

And if you don't like the movies, you can kindly leave them be as well as all those of us who DO enjoy the movies. If you only like the games, stick to the games. 💙

[metalomagnetic]

if you don’t mind my asking, i was wondering whether the dynamic between voldemort and harry in either must die is what you generally envision for the two of them as characters regardless of the circumstances — like v treating and considering harry just a prisoner, never getting truly attached, taking advantage of him with every opportunity, etc, while harry seems to genuinely care — or if this is just one facet of the possible relationships they could develop over time?

just curious, since your voldemort in iritb is so much different from harry’s voldemort, and i couldn’t quite make out whether it was a conscious choice for the different characters you decided to pair him with, or if you’re just exploring different facets of the same person (v).

I think I write the same Voldemort most everywhere, with only slight variations in his environment. For example, in Ouroboros he is raised by Voldemort, in other fic by Merope, in others he stays in Wool's; in some of my stories he is bisexual, in others gay; in some he's young, in others middle aged, in others very old. However, even if I alter his circumstances, I do try to keep some core traits of him that are the same across all my stories.

Now, Either must Die Voldemort is older than It runs in the blood one; he has lost 2 wars, and is defeated and a captive; he has a daughter. In It runs, he begins the story at the height of his power, where he feels invincible. He is 50 something as opposed to 80.

Because of this alone, he would be at different stages of his life, and in different mental places.

Yet I don't see them that different from each other- it's only his circumstances that change drastically.

That aside, we are looking at him through different POV characters. We have a terribly depressed, very lonely Harry who barely survived a war but lost almost everyone he cared for in the process only to find out their sacrifices were for nothing, because Voldemort still lives. We have a man isolated by his own hero status, and he further isolates himself, trapping himself in a house he hates. A good man, one that is willing to sacrifice himself for the world, to help any stranger, to do the right thing.

On the other, we have Sirius, a tormented young man, trying to find himself, struggling between two identities; a man that holds great privilege, involved in an active war, with friends or family on both sides. A man that is also willing to sacrifice himself, but only for those who he loves- the rest of the world can go to hell, though. Sirius' moral code is nowhere near as rigid as Harry's. All the mentors in his life had been horrible people (Orion, Arcturs) while Harry's mentor was Dumbledore. Fairly soon in the story, Sirius also gains the protection of the Blacks back- a shield Voldemort cannot easily break.

And I think that makes the very big difference in how the reader perceives Voldemort; he truly isn't *that* different, only Harry and Sirius perceive him completely differently.

EMD V is also in survival mood- his goal is to get out of captivity, he doesn't have the luxury to care about anything else.

It runs V has the war under control- he can take the time to indulge in other comforts- as EMD V did, during the first war, when he started his affair with Bellatrix.

Harry wants Voldemort to be better; he wants to 'fix' him. He always hopes there's more to V, deep down, and he cannot love V as he is.

Sirius falls in love with V precisely because he's a deranged, power hungry maniac.

Voldemort still manipulates them both, only he uses different methods, knowing what works best with each. Yet he responds differently to Harry and Sirius, because of how they treat him in kind.

It runs V also has Horcruxes, and his brains are a tad scrambled, while EMD V, has his shit together, mentally.

I think Voldemort will always respond better to a partner that doesn't try to make him a more decent person. I think Bella (or Sirius) are much better fits for him, because they aren't troubled by his non existent moral code.

Harry in EMD feels nauseous when he sees V slaughter the men who kidnapped Harry and Andromeda. Harry fees nauseous when he thinks V killed Slughorn.

Sirius is *awed* when he sees V commit mass murder against the aurors. He eats dinner with V even after he knows he just killed the Prewet brothers, men Sirius used to hang out with. He has sex with V after V killed a bunch of dark wizards in Norway.

Harry is giving in his relationships with everyone. He gives, and makes compromises.

Sirius is aggressive in his relationship with V.

That being said, I don't think any story with V and Harry would be like EMD. It truly depends on the circumstances. Harry starts the story in a position of power over Voldemort- he keeps Voldemort captive, keeps him from his magic and freedom. Harry is also the boy that destroyed him, so many times, since he was 1 year old. Simply because of that, V could never truly love Harry. And when he does gain power, he gains absolute power over Harry; that, too, prevents V from ever looking at Harry as a partner. Their dynamics have always been extreme.

You can see (if you read my other Voldemort/Harry fic) that in Prison Blues, Voldemort is much more receptive and appreciative of Harry, simply because of different circumstance.

With Sirius, he starts by being in a position of superiority, yet Sirius is never truly defenceless. But we can see V still has the instinct to make Sirius his prisoner. If V would have survived Halloween night, he would have taken Sirius captive, and that would have ruined all that was between them, on both ends.

Sorry if I rambled too much! I hope it answered your questions! I truly like to keep my characters more or less the same in all my story, but just explore how they'd behave in different circumstances.

[sysmedsaresexist]

To the anon asking about my username...

There's a bit of confusion here, I'm going to answer many of your questions but I may not post the ask itself, hopefully it'll make sense :)

When I started my blog I was heavily anti endo and I specifically posted bad pro/endo takes, debunking or just laughing. To this day, most of it is still pretty hilarious. I wasn't focused on cringe, but totally crazy, out there claims that made zero sense and were flat out wrong. Check out my tags #shit endos say, #shit singlets say, and my newest tag, #shit anti endos say, I hope you have a laugh at a couple of them.

In my pinned post, you'll see the thing that started it all. A pro endo saying that sysmeds are sexist.

I would also like to know how they came to that conclusion. I'm right there with you. Also like you, I still have many issues with the pro/endo community. I believe CDDs are trauma based disorders. I post research pretty much weekly about it (check out #debunk and #research). I think endogenic plurality and CDDs are completely different things.

And you know what, my pro endo friends support me. We're all learning. I'm kind with my opinion, I'm open to talking about it, we debate, we share resources, we change our views and adjust based on new info.

This blog corrects misinformation from both sides, now. Some of it is worse than others. Antis can and do spread just as much misinformation as pro/endos.

What I would encourage you to do is start with the multiple selves theory. It actually developed right alongside Freud's theories on hysteria (which included early versions of CDDs at the time), and if Freud hadn't been such a perv, it might actually be much more well-known. It's a nonpathological theory on consciousness and philosophy. People have been describing this phenomenon for a very long time, "endogenic" is just the newest term for it. Here's a couple examples.

2015 - at any given moment in time, one or another of our subselves is in control and determines how we think and act.

1987

2012 - this one has so many links to other people talking about this theory

2023 - These results suggest that the normative principles by which agents have adapted to complex changing environments may also explain why humans have long been described as consisting of “multiple selves.”

2020

2010

Like I said, though, you can find this stuff as far back as the 50s with ease, anything older might take a bit more digging, but it's not a small or new theory.

I think an overlap in language has created a lot of confusion, but it's really not out of the realm of possibility for people to be more in tune with these parts of themselves. It's been documented for over a century outside of psychology, in other areas of research-- anthropology, philosophy.

I'm going to be honest, I don't think a single one of the headmate sale blogs are real. I think they're antis trying to start shit. Like maybe one out of every ten is actually someone misguided behind the screen.

Even CDD systems still incorrectly believe in core theory, endogenics picked it up from us and don't know any better. System resets aren't real, but there are real experiences that can FEEL like a reset-- try being patient and educating people. Ignore the others, because some people just can't be helped, and you're better off spending your time spreading good, accurate posts than arguing with people who don't want to learn anything.

I forget what I was saying.

Anyways, I'm a pro endo sysmed.

I hope you'll stick around and see what's going on.