#you can completely malform ‘canon’

[rotteneldritchhorror]

I feel like at this point fnaf lore should be treated like homestucks canon is treated

You can basically pick and choose which parts you want to believe (as long as it’s still vaguely based on the basics of canon (eg; william afton is a serial child murderer, CC is the bite at 83, etc)) and if you hate a specific part of canon (like apparently the new book reveal that william used a fear gas in fnaf 4????? And is just evil for evils sake) then you can just kinda ignore it, even if it’s technically canon or implied to be canon

Like people will fully ignore certain parts of Homestuck canon and most people (other than Homestuck purists) will just kinda be chill with it

I mean that’s kinda how I’ve been treating fnaf lol- I’m just here for funsies, so let me ignore the annoying shit that makes other people’s theorising hell or that forces unsatisfying story beats

[j0kers-light]

Hey Chaos! I have a headcanon idea, I think you do accept those and what you have are the closed oneshots??? Correct me if I'm wrong and feel completely free to ignore this ask

How do you feel about Joker x Mermaid! reader, maybe before he was the Joker, being Jack, or maybe his previous form, a malformed and strange mix of the man he was before and the one he will become in the future, a tormented soul who in the middle of the war he is fighting, trying to find a meaning to his life, hears a sweet song that draws him to the sea

It is then that she sees Reader, a mermaid wounded by some bullet, bomb, debris that has fallen into the sea, and she sees the goodness in him, and for a second he believes that he can be good, but upon seeing the monster hiding behind that man's eyes, Reader decides to leave forever.

What do you think about writing something like this?? Maybe headcanons pre during and post relationship (without hinting much at J's past, we love our mysterious King!)

Thank you!!🩷

His Lighthouse: Surface Level (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Surface Level - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi my sweet anon!!

Now I thought I was gonna let this be a head canon.... then I got to typing and here we are. It turned into a oneshot! Your idea got my brain a flowing and I was unable to stop. I had TOO much fun with this one and it shows. Thank you so much for your patience and I do hope you enjoy. 🥰🥰

As always, if you wish to be apart of the His Lighthouse official taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

P.S. if anyone is interested in the first siren call you sing listen to this 👇🏾for inspiration.

Captain said not to wander the beach late at night. Several men were already declared missing for not heeding the warnings. 

The local elders of the island also warned the men not to invoke her wrath. Their foreign chants sounded like rubbish to Jack’s ears yet he felt something strange befall him after one of the women flicked seawater infused with tropical herbs on his face. He was then forced to drink something putrid all to strengthen his bond with the sea.  

They wanted to ‘protect the Americans’ and held a ceremony to bless the squadron when another solider was declared missing.  

In short, Jack was ready to leave this hell hole. The endless sea and squawking seagulls were driving him insane. Jack longed to be deployed in active duty, in the heat of battle; not keeping the peace with the natives who were blissfully unaware of the raging war surrounding them.  

None of their rituals and charms mattered and that was the mindset that led him to sneak out his barracks with a pack of cigs and a bottle of rum.  

No one would notice him gone. He was not well liked within his squadron, a loose cannon ready to blow, they described him. The others were content being stationed in the civilian zone. Not Jack. His fingers itched for war but for now he was stuck here.  

He kicked off his boots the second he arrived at the white sandy beach.  

It was beautiful out with the moon high in the sky. It casted a glow on everything and highlighted Jack lighting a cigarette. He blew the smoke into the night sky without a care.  

He didn’t care about anything as he took swigs from his bottle. Was this all he was good for? Getting drunk night after night guarding an island? 

There were times that Jack thought of drowning himself at sea just to get away from the absolute nothingness this place brought.  

His friends back home were lucky. Hal was stationed right on the front lines and Ethan had already died fighting for his country. It just wasn’t fair they got to prove themselves whereas Jack was stuck on some military base in the middle of nowhere.  

The island was so remote, half of the occupants didn’t speak English, and almost all of the children had never seen ‘Americans” before. It was ridiculous and don’t get him started on the local folklore.  

If he had to hear one more prayer to their make-believe deity, he would puke.  

“Stay away from the sea when Y/n calls!” A translated omen was told. “She preys on tormented souls, like you brave men! Do not fall to her song!” 

No one gave proof that she existed except for tales and fables and constant headaches with all this mythical nonsense.  

Did they really believe a woman, half fish, half goddess could lure men out to sea with just her voice? It sounded straight out of a children’s bedtime story.  

Jack rolled his eyes every time an elder pleaded with him as he prepped for a nighttime patrol. If this was a siren who drowned men in the sea, why were they purifying him with seawater?  

Yeah, he would be real careful while out on duty.  

He had a better chance of being shot than lured to sea by some fish. The night dragged on as Jack downed his bottle and pondered life while overlooking the ocean.  

It was still as beautiful as it been the first night he arrived several months ago. The waves were foamy, crashing onto the dark rocks lining the shore. All was quiet and before long, Jack’s eyelids started to fall.  

Until he heard something.  

It was the saddest melody he ever heard.  

Without thinking, he turned course and shuffled over to the more treacherous stretch of the island. Here jagged rocks outlined the shoreline for half a mile. The water was colder and darker, holding the secrets the locals so desperately tried to ward away.  

Funny how they worshipped and feared the sea. Or rather what lurked within.  

Jack had no conscious thought as the waves tickled his calves, inciting him to wade in deeper. He couldn’t feel the numbing cold, yet he felt the anguish and helplessness being sung so beautifully.  

The call echoed loudly over the waves until it stopped like a record scratch. It was enough to snap Jack out of his fog and realize he was standing waist deep in the ocean. 

“The f__k?” he wasn’t that drunk. How did he get in the water? 

Jack was preparing to return to shore when he heard a splash followed by a strangled moan. His instincts demanded he investigate.  

He fought the tides to reach a denser cluster of boulders. He froze when he peeked behind them.  

The Legends did not do you justice. Jack had never seen anything as gorgeous as you.  

You looked every bit a goddess until he made eye contact with you. Your eyes were milky white with no pupils and to make matters worse, a row of pointed teeth was baring at him in a show of aggression.  

You were beauty and the beast, yet he wasn’t afraid.  

His eyes were drawn to the big gaping wound on your hip—or where your hip should’ve been if you were human. A mermaid tail took the place of human legs. Regardless of your anatomy, you were wounded given how you weakly clung to the jagged rocks.  

Jack slowly crouched down to inspect you further when you flicked your tail, dousing him with a powerful spray of water.  

He almost went under if he didn’t grab ahold of your tail. You yelped in pain and tried to shake the male off, but he was strong.  

He swallowed seawater in the struggle as you threatened to bash his head against the rocks. Jack fought back and pulled himself up on a flat boulder to catch his breath. “I’m tryna to help ya and ya try n’ drown me?!”  

He pointed at your abdomen. “That. Me. Help. Do you under-stand?” He acted out each word like did with the locals.  

You eyed this man warily. He was not the human you wished to lure tonight.  

You needed food to help heal yourself after swimming too close to naval ships fighting each other. Humans and their pointless wars. One of their weapons exploded too close and sent shrapnel flying into your tail.  

You couldn’t move your hips to propel yourself through the water— although you tried. The searing pain made it impossible to return home and you were already afar off to begin with.  

The island you were stranded on was inhabited by mortals who worshipped you and your ancestors, so you tried to call a believer for aid. 

None came and you were growing weaker by the minute. A wave pushed you more inland and subsequently, beached you on a low tide. The shallow pool was knee deep for a human but useless for your means of survival. It was a glorified kiddie pool and soon to be grave.  

The last human you expecting to hear your sweet song was this man. You could sense the turmoil and darkness lurking in his soul. How could he help you when he needed help himself? 

You did not wish to be bothered with him, but he was the only mortal who heard your cry for help.  

The pain was getting worse, and it took everything in you to sing at all. You lived for centuries; you refused to be bested by a torpedo and low tide.  

Jack was getting impatient awaiting a response. He assumed you didn’t understand English (he was surrounded by idiots these days), but you shocked him when you reached out and touched his arm.  

Like a bolt of lightning, he felt your words. ‘Yes mortal, I understand.’ 

Your fingers slipped away, and Jack saw how they left a tribal like marking on his pale skin. “What the.... What did you do?”  

He rubbed at the f/c lines and dots in panic. He glanced up when he heard a series of sharp clicks. Were you laughing?  

Apparently, he was wrong.  

You sacrificed your position in the shallow water to reach out and touch him and now you were too weak to submerge your gills again. He was hearing you choke.  

How did he come to that conclusion; he didn’t want to know.  

Jack acted fast and shoved your head underwater. He was expecting bubbles, a normal human reaction, but you were anything but. 

You gladly opened your mouth and sucked in precious water you needed to survive. It made for quite the provocative sight, although Jack wasn’t complaining. You were very easy on the eyes and currently nude by human standards.  

His eyes wandered down your chest where an octopus was attached. Its tentacles wrapped around you like a shawl and (for the time being) it covered your modesty. He knew he was drunk, but it still blew his mind.  

‘You are staring.’ 

Jack was startled back to the present when your pseudo voice scratched his brain. It was an odd sensation; one he was getting used to.  

“Well, you’re a f__king mermaid, yeah I’m gonna stare.” He backed off when you resurfaced with a pained grimace.  

Your skin was still touching his so you spoke again, ‘Mermaid?’ 

“Ah yeah, its uh.. what we call your kind I guess.” Jack’s hands naturally moved towards your injury to access the damage.  

It was oozing a gelatinous black substance, and it didn’t look good even by his standards. “I don’t know how to treat this. Ya know, since you ain’t human.” He added.  

You rolled your vacant eyes and looked at the stars. Jack noticed your gills moving at the base of your neck and at the tiny seashells that seemed to be embedded into your skin. You looked every bit a mermaid, straight out of a storybook.  

It still wasn’t clicking in his mind that you were real. 

You tapped his skin. ‘Just north of here there is a deeper alcove. Take me there.’ You telepathically said.  

“What?” Jack sputtered. How did you expect him to transport a wounded mermaid up the beach? His facial expression gave away to his thoughts.  

You squeezed his wrist, ‘You are capable.’ 

“And you look heavy!” He scoffed. Although he did drills like lifting heavy loads of gear, you were a mythical creature. You sent him tumbling with a mere flick of your tail and that was you wounded. He gave you a once over. How was he gonna go about this? 

The same odd clicks you made earlier escaped your throat but in a lower decibel. Jack panicked still not knowing what it meant. “What’s wrong.” 

‘Hurts.’ you closed your eyes and sighed. He had nothing to lose helping you, so he quickly made up his mind. It beat drinking the night away.  

“You said north, right? In some cave or whatever? Take a deep breath... err gulp? Whatever you do to survive.” He waited until you took on more water before picking you up bridal style.  

You weren’t prepared and wrapped your arms around his neck, ever mindful of your talon like nails. He lifted you with ease.  

Yves, your pet octopus moved a few tentacles to cover your wound as Jack navigated through the low tide in a northerly direction. He honestly didn’t know how to get to the cove you mentioned.  

He just let his feet guide him until he saw a small gap in the rock formation that looked right. Your people carved it out over a millennia ago and the humans that settled here declared it hallowed ground ever since.  

The healing water in the alcove would speed up your recovery but not fast enough. You just needed enough strength to swim home. You did not like dwelling above surface level for prolonged periods of time.  

You only emerged to hunt the sailors disrespecting your waters and to lure nonbelievers to their death.  

Interacting with a human for this long was a rarity that you did not prefer. Though this man in particular wasn’t so bad. He smelled faintly of your favorite kelp. 

You lulled in and out of consciousness as Jack struggled to carry you to the cove. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but you were heavy. Your tail made moving difficult as you couldn’t help flicking it, offsetting his balance as he walked.  

It was beautiful, you were too. Simply indescribable.  

From your dark skin tone to your curly hair tangled with seashells and fine gold thread, Jack now believed the locals when they declared you a goddess.  

A string of fresh pearls hung from the crown of your head that framed your face. He assumed you were royalty, given that a rare blue diamond hung from the knot of pearls at the center of your forehead. How it stayed fastened had to be magic.  

He had an urge to steal it if not for the two crabs clipping your hair out of your face weren’t watching him attentively.  

Precious jewels, octopus, and crabs weren’t your only abnormal accessory.  

More sea life seemed to cling to you, as if it were an honor to adorn your body. Jack tried to not freak out when he noticed the scales of your tail move as if they were alive themselves. He could even see barnacles growing at the joints of your elbows and lower tail. 

Everything about you was fascinating.  

He finally made it to the cove with you in tow. He took one step inside and shivered sensing something in the air. 

“I’m getting tired of this magic s__t.” Jack grumbled.  

He grunted as he lowered you into the water that glowed with bioluminescence fish. You chirped as you sank down, at last, fully submerged. Your hands played with the plankton coming to your aid until you noticed Jack awkwardly standing at the mouth of the cove.  

His fatigues were soaked through, and you admired him more closely now that the moon poured through the carved ceiling above. He was a model solider, all muscles and fine stature. His redeeming qualities however were surface level. Only you could see the darkness in his heart.  

And yet, you sensed a glimmer of light in him too. There was still hope for this mortal. For now. 

You curled a finger beckoning him closer. 

Now he understood the elders' warnings. With just a finger, you had him stepping into the sea. This alcove was deeper than the public beach back yonder. Jack couldn’t see the bottom and that made him wary. Was it wise to swim in a bottomless grotto with a mythical monster? 

No, nevertheless, he knew you wouldn’t drown him. You still needed him. You visibly struggled to stay afloat and Joker swam out to help you. It felt silly helping a fish to swim; it was the least he could do. 

Speaking of, he was at a loss here. Jack hesitated before asking. “What now?”  

You huffed as you floated on your back. A swarm of plankton hovered over your wound, but they wouldn’t be enough. At this rate, your recovery would take ages.  

Jack swam nearby, his hand darting out when you tipped your head back. He kept forgetting that was normal for you. You weren’t drowning. Neither you nor Jack seemed to mind that his fingers played with your hair. He loved the curly texture of it and how it defied the laws of physics. It felt dry to the touch despite being soaking wet.  

He kept the required physical contact needed to speak to him so you allowed it.  

‘Can you fish?’ you asked him. You were starving.  

Jack thought back to the many fishing trips his father dragged him along on when he was younger. ‘Bonding time with his old man.’ What good that did. He hated the man he was forced to call father.  

But you didn’t want to hear a pointless core memory of his, you wanted an answer. Jack nodded, “Yeah. I don’t got a line though.”  

Oh. You forgot humans hunted differently. He required equipment it seemed. You pouted, sounding like a rattlesnake hissing. ‘Useless.’  

Before Jack could protest, you gestured for him to cover his ears. He slapped his wet hands over them and waited.  

You used the last of your energy to lure a fish into the cove. Jack heard bits and pieces of your melody (his human ears weren’t able to pick up most of the notes) although he did feel a pull. Something primal in his brain ordered him to follow and he kicked his legs until he was practically glued to your side.  

Perhaps that was the reason you urged him to cover his ears. He was falling victim to your call. A shame he was already where he wanted to be.  

Screw patrols. He didn’t care if his Captain discharged him for abandoning his post. Swimming with an ancient mermaid was the most entertainment Jack had in months even if all this swimming was giving him a workout.  

You gave him the all clear to remove his hands. Jack did while watching a swordfish answer your call. 

It swam from the dark waters below and circled the two of you. Much to his horror, you plucked it from the water and proceeded to consume it raw.  

It was morbid and secretly hot to witness you in your element. You ate your fill with a flare of elegance and spat out the bones.  

He was captivated. You licked your lips clean once you were finished and checked under your nails for any debris. Some things were still human in nature. Your milky eyes grew heavy as sleep threatened to take hold. Jack noticed you slowly sinking into the water and got your attention by tugging your hair.  

“Someone’s sleepy. Will the big bad fish be alright on her own?” He had to get out of this cold water and return to base. He was losing feeling in his fingers.  

A violin sounding chord signaled your yawn. Your hand cupped Jack’s cheek affectionately to speak. 

‘Fret not, I will remain here. You need to get out the water.’ Yves pointed towards a forgotten trail leading out of the grotto with a slimy tentacle. ‘That leads to land.’ 

At least now he wouldn’t be left stumbling through the dark.  

Sneaking back while soaking wet was gonna be tough. His sergeant was gonna killl him should he found out. Even with all his responsibility, Jack hesitated to leave you here alone. “I’ll uhh check on ya tomorrow?  

‘Go.’ You urged. You swatted the water, creating a sizable wave to carry him back to shore. Jack stumbled to his feet after spending so much time in the water. By the time he looked back, the ocean was still, and you were nowhere in sight.  

Jack hoped he didn’t dream last night up.  

No one noticed him gone and he managed to creep back into his bunk (freshly changed of course) before morning call. The next day was done in the same monotonous schedule he kept for months now.  

Roll call, patrols, mess hall, guard change, and repeat. He begrudgingly did it all, bidding his time until the sun set. He made full usage of his breaks to visit the market in town and stock up on supplies. On his list was a first-aid kit, wool blankets, and lots of fresh fish. The fish monger raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry.  

The soldiers that invaded ahem.. protected the island were a curious lot. Jack was no different. He was planning to spend the evening with a mermaid. Jack tipped his helmet before leaving.  

If he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the old man croak over after catching a glimpse of the mark you left on Jack’s arm.  

He stashed his purchases in the pathway near the hidden grotto before dressing down into something more lightweight. His fatigues were practical but not ideal for prolonged periods in the cove’s mineral based water.  

He was teeming with excitement to see you. Would you be feeling better? Would you like the fish he brought? Would you be happy to see him?  

“Get a hold of yourself, she’s just a fish. A big, ancient, gorgeous, deadly fish...” Jack uttered to himself as he made the dangerous trek down to the cove.  

The setting sun guided him well until he ducked into the natural cave. Inside, it was dimly lit by the walls blocking the sun until he entered the main alcove where supernatural light flourished. 

Jack didn’t know what to expect. What if something happened last night while you slept? Could someone have found you during your moment of weakness? Did you up and leave?  

A thousand questions swirled inside his head as he walked to the water’s edge.  

It was calm, too calm—now that he knew about the dangers it contained. He saw the way you ate that swordfish last night. You were confident in your strength and there was an air of ancient wisdom that shrouding you. You been around for a while. The things you had seen in your lifetime... 

“Uh hello? Y/n?” Jack called out only to snort to himself.  

The human was calling the siren. He kicked the water to create ripples, hoping that would work. Just how deep was the pool? A deep sea fish swam here so rather deep. He dipped his legs in and popped open a bottle of rum as he waited.  

He forgot that you were injured, that probably delayed your trip to the surface. He nibbled on the bread and cheese he bought from the market. He wondered how long you would stay here until you were healed. Not like he cared or anything—he just enjoyed having something to do.  

That is, if you were coming back anytime soon. “This blows.” Jack sighed.  

He shivered at a sudden cold breeze and turned to fetch the wool blanket from his bag. While his back was turned, your head rose from the water.  

You sensed his presence when he created ripples in the water but struggled to surface with your limited energy. The swordfish you caught last night helped fight against your hunger, however; you were still ravenous. You tried swimming into deeper waters to call for help but you became exhausted fairly quickly.  

This wound had you stuck in your ancestral grotto. Which was fine if this man helped you recover.  

You watched him take out a long piece of textile to wrap himself with. He must be cold, you thought curiously. He locked eyes with you and jumped back.  

“Gahh! F__k!” How long had you been watching him in silence? You really were a predator. 

All he could see was your face from the nose up. The water was calm around you, not a ripple to be found. “You scared me.” Jack panted.  

You didn’t move and he idly kicked his feet back and forth in the water. Talk about a 180 from your mood yesterday, you just stared at him. “I uh brought you fish.” He took out the packages the fish monger wrapped for him.  

That got you to come forward, yet he was quick to notice your movements were sluggish. You didn’t glide through the water like last night. Something was wrong.  

“Hey... you okay? Oh! Ohh uhh..” Jack froze when you flopped your head onto his lap. He didn’t move (as if he could, you were heavy) as your hand squeezed his calf muscles.  

Even your voice felt off. ‘Thank you.’ You preferred your fish alive, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. You appreciated the thought. You glanced up into green eyes, clicking lowly in distress. 

“I know that sound. What’s wrong, ya don’t too good. Here.” Jack unpacked a whole mackerel, (your favorite) and held it to your lips. The implication was not lost on you.  

‘Feeding a monster? Aren’t you a brave solider?’ you mocked.  

Jack didn’t let your words affect him, “Open wide.” He watched your vacant eyes roll before you unhinged your jaw, slowing off the razor-sharp teeth and an unnaturally colored tongue. He slowly lowered the fish into your mouth and let go when your teeth grazed his palm.  

He couldn’t believe he was in some secret grotto feeding a mythical being. It would make for a wild bar conversation.  

It definitely wasn’t what he signed up for when he enlisted. You plucked the spine from your mouth with a sigh. ‘Do you have any more?’ You asked.  

Jack took pity seeing your sad eyes. He knew that look too well. You were weak from hunger. “Y-Yeah.. I uh bought a lot for ya.”  

And that’s how he spent the next half hour, hand feeding you in between bites of his own bread and cheese spread.  

His twisted mind saw it as a date. Yeah, a date with a gigantic fish. Jack huffed, jolting your head resting in his lap. You whined, voicing your displeasure.  

“Sorry uhh.” It was then Jack realized he didn’t know your name.  

The locals called you Y/n sure, but you did not know the term mermaid until yesterday. He found himself wondering what your actual name was. 

‘What ails you?’ You spoke after seeing a faraway look take over his features. He fed you well and now you were content resting your head on his lap. He was warm unlike the harsh coldness of the sea. You… kinda liked it.  

“I had a moment, I guess. I uhh.. I don’t know your name.” He confessed. It donned on you that you didn’t know his either.  

You tried avoiding the question with one of your own. ‘What do other humans call you?’ 

“Oh, now ya wanna know my name?” Jack laughed. All this time the two of you had yet to exchange formalities.  

He felt so embarrassed. His mama raised him better! You were a lady and deserved some respect. Jack straightened up while clearing his throat.  

“Private Jack White reportin’ for duty.” He fake saluted and laughed at your confused head tilt. He’d explain later. “The locals call you Y/n, the revered sea deity, but what should I call ya oh great one?” 

You rose to grab Jack’s face and pull him down so you could rub your nose with his. You spoke your given name into his head and watched him try out the pronunciation. 

“Did I say that right?” Jack teased.  

‘No. Humans do not have enough vocal cords. You are unable to replicate the vowels.’  

Another thing that separated you from him. Now he was told his speech was too primitive. “Whatever, it sounds hot in my head. Y/n it is then.”  

He assumed rubbing noses was your people's version of a kiss, so he repeated the gesture back. He chuckled when you jerked back with a shrill like chirp. Your tail flicked up from the water, hitting him with ice cold droplets. “So cute..” he mumbled.  

Although the temperature drop was his signal to go. “It's getting late. You gonna be alright by yourself again?”  

You refused to touch him to speak after he caressed your nose.  

“Aww, did I make the Great Y/n all flustered?” He dodged you trying to claw at his ankles. “I think sooo. Get some rest, Y/n.” 

You regained enough energy to send him off with a farewell melody. He was still humming the tune to himself when he reached his barracks.  

Jack cherished the days he spent visiting you in the alcove.  

Some of his fellow soldiers poked fun at his sudden change in mood. “Oh, Jack caught the eye of a local!” They weren’t wrong.  

He was more friendlier on base all thanks to you. He looked forward to the nights spent with you; feeding you fish, sharing stories, and slowly but surely getting to know one another.  

It was inspiring to remember how you had originally feared Jack when he found you beached in the low tide. Now you practically dragged him under to be near him.  

“Easy, Y/n. Don’t drown me!” He let you pull him into the dark water to nuzzle his nose in greeting. He still didn’t know what the gesture meant but it made you happy.  

He loved hearing the purring sound of your delight. He did anything he could to hear it.  

He promised to spot your attempt to swim outside the grotto tonight. The line of rocks was an obstacle he could help you overcome. Your wound was steadily healing with the plethora of fatty fish Jack provided along with the kind plankton who blessed you. Neither of you wanted you to fully heal.  

The moment you were healthy meant you would leave, and Jack was growing rather fond of you. He unfortunately did not know how you felt about him.  

He would be a fool to believe you actually enjoyed a human’s company. He was prey, not a companion. You had Yves for that and Jack envied the sentient octopus that clung to your bosom.  

He tried to shake off his feelings to no avail.  

You were otherworldly in terms of beauty and keenly aware of your charms. Even if the match was virtually impossible, he liked where things were going with you. He would cherish each day he had left.  

“Good job, now... come here.” Jack said to urge you back.  

This was your fourth time swimming laps from the ocean entrance of the alcove back to his arms. He could tell you were pushing yourself, judging by your hooded eyelids and agitated tail swishes.  

It was exercise to promote core strength back to your tail.  

You made it back to Jack and collided with him due to your exhaustion. He fell onto shore with you in his arms. “H-Hey, Y/n, you good?”  

The massive blue diamond on your forehead swayed as you nodded. Jack was speechless watching a beam of moonlight overhead highlight your beauty. Your lips parted and he was reminded how close the two of you were when it brushed his lower lip.  

This was wrong. You weren’t even human! but that didn’t stop Jack. He audibly swallowed as the moment drew tense.  

“F__k it.” He shortened the distance and captured your lips with his. You bristled at the contact until Jack tangled a hand in your hair and guided you through the motions.  

He rolled you over so the incoming wave could rehydrate your gills. He on the other hand needed air and pulled away with a smile. “Even better than I imagined.” Jack said listlessly.  

‘What.. what was that?’ You asked him. You brought a finger up to inspect your lips. They were tingling.  

“I ah.. that was a kiss. Kinda like how you rub my nose. That’s um.. it’s the equivalent of that for humans.” He explained.  

‘I don’t understand. You respect me enough to kiss me?’ 

“Wait what?” Jack was confused now. “What does,” he leaned down to nuzzle his nose with yours, “this mean?” 

‘You value or you respect me greatly. It is the highest form of gratitude for my kind.’ You confessed. Your eyes shifted away as your ears turned red.  

Oh. Not what he was expecting but still rather important. You were showing your gratitude, and he thought… 

Jack brushed a curl away from your face, “So… does your kind kiss like we just did?” 

He burst out laughing at you covering your face. Jack could tell you wanted to slip underwater in embarrassment. He wouldn’t let you.  

He pried your hands away so he could see you. “Cmon Y/n!” 

You were about to show him when a loud alarm sounded over the island. You growled and without hesitation, dragged you and Jack into the safety of the ocean. He quickly broke the surface to breathe.  

“Y/n! F__k, warn me next time! S__t, we might be under attack.” He tried to swim away to leave, but your nails dug into his wrist. “Y/n let go.”  

Then the first canon echoed off in the distance. You cried out, gaining Jack’s attention. He never seen you look so terrified.  

He snatched you up into his arms, tucking your head into his chest. “They won’t hurt you again. I promise.” He leaned back just enough to kiss you softly. “Stay outta sight, I’ll be back.”  

‘Jack…’  

If gunfire was heard this far away, you could only imagine the reality of it on land. You didn’t want him to go.  

“I’ll be back. Yeah?” He caressed your face as he drifted closer to the shore. You still didn’t let go so he got desperate.  

He locked eyes with Yves on your shoulder. “Take care of my girl.” He glanced at you again, “I’ll be back Y/n.” He wrestled himself out of your arms and swam to the grotto shore.  

There was little time to grab his things. Gunfire meant contact with the enemy. He needed to find a weapon and report to his sergeant for orders. 

Yet Jack hesitated.  

He looked back towards the ocean and saw your head poking out. You were centuries old but terrified of man and their weapons. It made him sick to his stomach.  

He didn’t know if mermaids could cry although you looked close to tears.  

Jack groaned as he took off his dog tags and wrapped them around your neck. You were about to ask him what it was when he stole your train of thought with a passionate kiss.  

It felt like a goodbye.  

Jack pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “Wait for me, hm?” 

You nodded once and watched him disappear up the trail. The small glimmer of light you saw in Jack faded away as he left. You knew he wouldn’t return but you still blindly waited.  

You waited all night for the fighting to cease. You waited till the morning after when more ships arrived and departed in droves. You waited even as the waters changed warmth with the new season. You waited and waited and waited until it was obvious.  

Jack was gone.  

Years passed and he was a changed man.  

He’d seen enough war and the pointlessness it created to rebel from authority. It changed him and not for the better. You would not be pleased with the hatred festering in his heart, not like he cared.  

He didn’t care about anything.  

He saw the world with new eyes— he wasn’t the restless private stuck on an island anymore. Oh, but he missed those days terribly. His wrist itched every full moon, reminding him of a time he felt free. 

Free to be himself and to be understood by another. You were the only person who willingly listened to his ramblings. You didn’t interrupt or belittle his opinions, you let him speak freely and encouraged him to be open minded. He looked back on those months fondly.  

But that was the past. Now he wanted to destroy the future.  

“Ay Boss. Boss..? Yo J!” Frost had enough and yelled out to Joker.  

He almost didn’t respond. Joker. He went by The Joker now not..  

“There’s nothing here, Joker and it’s getting dark soon.” Frost kicked a nearby rock into the water. “We’re ready to leave when you are.” 

Joker nodded and returned his gaze out to the sea.  

He felt stupid coming all the way here after so many years away. The military base was now a museum, and the locals had been completely overrun by tourism from the growing resort industry nearby.  

Things were vastly different, but your grotto remained untouched.  

It was still tucked away on the northern shoreline with jagged rocks making it impossible to boat to. Mankind could not reach you and Joker preferred it that way.  

Years later, he still slipped a bit descending down the hidden trail. Was it always so dangerous or did love motivate him forward? He lost that feeling ages ago so a few scrapped knees and hands was the price to pay.  

What did he expect to find? You patiently waiting in the water, flicking your tail in anticipation? He hated himself for believing that you would.  

Frost was right. There was nothing here.  

He had to stop dwelling on the past. Promises were made to be broken. Joker had moved on and deep down, he hoped that you did the same.  

He sighed as he stood up to leave (for good this time) when he heard something. He froze, thinking he was finally losing his mind but no. It was faint, but it was heard loudly in his heart.  

Jack heard your call.  

[ryttu3k]

this might be a silly question, but do we know what sascha's zulo form looks like? and if we dont, do you have any head cannons?

The 'canon' answer is that all Zulo forms are completely identical and Sascha's is no different, as described in the original Players' Guide to the Sabbat:

"This power enables the vampire to assume the form of a real monster. In one turn, the vampire's entire body transforms into a seven to eight-foot-tall creature with grotesque features. The vampire has clawlike, seven-fingered hands, a row of bony spines protruding from her vertebrae, a horribly deformed head, huge muscles and thick blackish -gray skin covered with a slick, black, oily residue. Oddly enough, all vampires using this power take this form, though each has slight variations."

Still held true as late as the V20 corebook, although it no longer emphasises that they're all identical. More specifically, so does the Revised corebook! The Clan Novel Saga, specifically the individual story written by Lucien Soulban, is Revised-era, and is the only story where we get a specific description of Sascha's Zulo form:

This is one of the very few things V5 actually did right for the Tzimisce, in that Zulo form is no longer identical to everyone:

"With a mastery of the body so complete that it surpasses natural limitations, the vampire can take on a truly monstrous form, complete with vicious claws, protruding fangs, ridged features, and corded muscles. Although its exact traits can vary between occasions, the form often has an individual, specific appearance that manifests every time this power is used, a vision of the user’s Beast made flesh. Some look like hellishly malformed animals, some look demonic or atavistic, and some defy any sense of worldly familiarity. Many incorporate the traits of other vampires in nature, such as leeches, bats, ticks, and mosquitoes, magnified to grotesque proportions."

The fact that it's an amalgam between Protean 4 and Dominate 2 is still a stupid-ass decision. Ha ha yeah you can change yourself because you're ~dominating your body~ oh get fucked. If you had to make Vicissitude an amalgam, at least make it something that makes sense, like Auspex! Also it now costs drastically higher, it had always been Vicissitude 4 and now you need two extra levels? Man c'mon.

Anyway.

A lot of fandom has embraced that, or, potentially, the V5 Companion writers looked at how basically every Tzimisce fan went "yeah no fuck that" and designed their own Zulo form. There are some amazingly, wonderfully creative designs out there, and I firmly believe that in a clan like the Tzimisce, Zulo forms would be individualistic and incredible to see. And Sascha has Vicissitude 7 and Style 6, as if they're going to be constrained to some basic-ass variation everyone has ;)

For my own interpretation, I hc that they have wings with razor-sharp black feathers made of chitin, to really tie into that Angel of Caine imagery. They're not quite designed to fly with, they don't use Chiropteran Marauder form, but they can glide a bit and, more importantly, intimidate ;D I see the main body of their Zulo form as catlike, like this sleek black panther, with razor-sharp claws, spikes down the length of their spine, and a sword-like blade on the end of their tail, and alarmingly intelligent and human-like eyes that look really disconcerting in a panther-like face.

But that's just 'my' Sascha - there are probably a ton of incredible designs out there!

[nerdy-the-artist]

Maytroid 2024 is here!

I am so excited to get to work on these new prompts. Last year, my entries for each day were fairly sloppy, and I was new to the series, so I was lacking a fair bit of information. Now, I’m armed with more knowledge and am eager to use it.

For those who haven’t seen what I did for Maytroid last year, what I’m going to be doing instead of art is something more writing focused. These little text entries are mostly styled after the scans from the Metroid Prime series. Matter of fact, this new set of prompts actually lends itself much better than last year’s, as I have a lot more leeway to play to my own strengths than last year (I still don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with Gorea). These are all canon to my own Metroid AU currently, though as things change in development, these may become out of date. They will give the vibe my stories are going for, but these shouldn’t be held to as the absolute canon for them. I’ll be posting these week by week, around 7 at a time, starting today.

Day 1: Ridley

Transcript of Security Footage

Several individuals in this footage cannot be identified at this time. They shall be identified as Pirate 1, Pirate 2, and Pirate Major.

Ridley: What I want to know… is why he is not in custody.

Pirate Major: I gave them their orders, they knew he was to be brought in alive, and instead they killed him.

Pirate 1: You told us to take care of him! We thought you meant an execution, not milk and cookies!

Pirate Major: Insolent Wretch! You say such things about your orders in front of our Commander?! You know how we handle that sort of insubordination!

Pirate 2: Cool it, we’re already in hot water.

Pirate 1: We’re in hot water because of the life of some winy little nobody that begged for his life with money he didn’t even have.

Ridley: While your insolence is… aggravating… I am willing to forgive this misstep.

Pirate Major: What?

Ridley: He was an insignificant pawn. We can always find another. As I was saying, I am willing to forgive this on one condition. Did he die in pain?

Pirate 2: Yes. He did suffer before he died.

Ridley: What methods or torture did you employ?

Pirate 1: Waterboarding. Works wonders on humans. I always liked how they sound when they cough and gasp for air.

Ridley:Mmmmm… was blood shed before his end?

Pirate 2: Yeah. My partner here has… quite the way with knives.

Ridley: Do tell.

Pirate 1: Slashed his wrists. Those arteries gush lots of blood from humans. And we started pulling teeth when he lied.

Ridley: Delicious. You have escaped capital punishment, but you will still be serving as guards for the Metroid containment units. For further forgiveness, you will need to be more creative with your implements. I find Revine’s death, by your account, to be quite dull. Your are dismissed, unless you wish to enlighten me further.

Day 2: Fiery

Scan of Pipe System in Norfair

“These pipes appear be delivering superheated magma into the Norfair region. Given the proximity to Ridley’s personal quarters, likely explanations include terraforming the area for Ridley’s own comfortability, additional protective measures, or the intentional destruction of Chozo artifacts not deemed useful. The latter is most likely, as the immediate area was once a Chozo burial tomb. It is now completely submerged in magma, disintegrating much of the artifacts within.”

Day 3: Winged

Scan of SA-X Mutations

“This X-Parasite copy has suffered some form of destabilization of its copying abilities. Abnormalities include a malformed, beak like structure around the mouth, several atrophied fingers, several hypertrophied fingers, small patches of feathers, and an extraneous structure protruding from its back resembling a Chozo wing bereft of feathers. These unusual deformities could be the result of DNA infusions during childhood complicating the process of anatomical replication within X-Parasite offspring. This individual seems to suffer great stress from its predicament, but it is unsafe to assume that its combat functionality is greatly hampered. Adaptation is this species’s main trait.”

Day 4: Pirate

Scan of Space Pirate Elite

“Subject is a member of an unknown species known only from individuals working within Ridley’s special operations group, The Revenants. This group acts as Ridley’s personal enforcers and assassins, fanatically worshipping their commander as a literal God of Death. They wield melee weapons personalized to their unique fighting styles. Each weapon is charged with electricity, giving them an additional ranged attack capability. They have operated since before the Galactic Federation, making a name for themselves in fighting Chozo warriors. Their endurance, agility, and strength cannot be overstated, in spite of their gaunt appearance.”

Day 5: Mecha

Scan of automaton codenamed Mecha Ridley

“Subject is a battle ready drone, seemingly created by Ridley’s fanatical special forces, the Revenants. Mecha Ridley is heavily weaponized, as there could be no altar to the God of Death without the ability to take a life. Weapons include flamethrowers, guided munition launchers, and superheated claws. Mecha Ridley’s armor is highly durable, but greatly hampers mobility compared to its inspiration. Additionally, as a cult idol of worship, advanced artificial intelligence was not prioritized during production. Mecha Ridley displays average combat intellect for a war drone. Recommend staying moving and outsmarting the automaton.”

Day 6: Fang

Scan of Rundas’s Necklace

“Rundas appears to have begun collecting Metroid Fangs as trophies since last he was approached. Assuming one fang was taken from each Metroid he has eliminated, he has defeated 15 Metroids in the two months since he was last seen. Unfortunately, his ego has grown with his kill count.”

Day 7: Cunning

Scan of Abandoned Home

“Old Bird and Grey Voice’s abandoned home has been left mostly in tact, minus the usual signs of neglect. However, there appear to be a plethora of traps lain around the home. Various grapple snares have been detected, alongside explosive charges, beam emitters, and microphones. Much of these systems appear to be inert, and once reported directly to Mother Brain. It is clear she anticipated you might return here before confronting her. Given her destruction, several trap systems remain completely dormant. Still, any approach must be made with great caution.”

[tidesfate]

Some more thoughts for Moras Main non-tes verse (aka The Outer God of Knowledge until i have a better name)

Much in line with the general backstory I have for it now, it was the original blueprint of creation crafted by the original Gods of the universe. It did get into a testing phase before being decidely 'imperfect'. It was then taken apart, stripped of pieces that would be used in creation, and then left as ideas and concepts undesired to rot in the void. Its sentience was an accident that was unforeseen and could not be killed once it was truly 'born', for it had begun to stick its tendrils within times before, during, and after it.

Its initial nature was neutral, and purely curious there is a chance its original domain was Curiosity itself before gaining that of knowledge, fate, and memory through its original area. Its goals were as simple as gaining more information. The entity was provided no guidance and simply left to its own device; finding through this how much easier it was to gain through manipulation. How much more knowledge could be gained through breaking something and then putting it back together, only to repeat. The entertainment it could gain through trickery. Respect through recognition of the mind, and fear of intellect.

Mora does feel an absence; that built of the pieces that were torn of it, those of which it is unaware of. Consumption of knowledge and memory fills this hunger momentarily before it returns- and it becomes more jaded as it runs out of new things to gain. (unlike TES verse, the universe is a lot more vast however and this widely opens up how much it has or has not gained).

Apocrypha is a realm between reality, and spans through the cracks between nearly all of it. What it is is more than likely the remnants of the original design, much like Mora. The husks of the former universe, which Mora inhabits and rules and has made its own. Its appearance currently has no difference from that in TES, other than maybe the areas where more modern tech is present. It is a plane of alien architecture, curling and spiraling bookshelves, oceans of ink, landscapes of unknown flora and fauna, and a roiling sky of green miasma pocketed with voids of tendrils and eyes.

Still something akin to a hive-mind, like I have it in canon. Where it can be in multiple places at once, think different things, or even disconnect pieces of itself. This is important for later bullet.

Mora cannot leave Apocrypha. It can send pieces of itself like feelers into reality, but much like a fish out of water these will wither if kept out for too long. Too long of course can be anywhere from a day to a thousand years dependent on how thin the walls between reality and its own realm are; some areas the two touch much closer, and those spots you may find more anomalous properties within reality.

Mora can work around this issue to an extent through the means of vessels. It can use living beings from reality, from true creation, and put a chunk of itself within. This acts as a protective barrier to its matter, though the vessel will begin to malform and distort the longer Mora is within it / the more of its power is used within it. Once the final chunks of creations make is eaten away from the vessel, the time begins to tick upon the piece of Mora. Mora also does tend to thin or completely snip its connection to these piece of itself to avoid withering the vessel and therefore that piece of itself too fast, but does put what it has gained at risk of having to regather the knowledge and memories and all that makes it up from that piece back should it completely disappear.

More will be added as I think about it cause I am rotating this verse in my head

[cowchickenbeefpork]

tbh Charlie being like that concept wise is completely fine, especially for a dark comedy, but if you want the characters to become better people, she has to change her mindset. In a world where people get raped or enslaved or become victims of genocide, Charlie’s worldview is unable to help that at all since it’s completely black and white. She doesn’t even really have opinions on redemption besides oh well people can change. Her view of a good person or bad person is never expiclitly said, just implied by how she tries to redeem them. And the redeeming sessions we do see are fucking shit. Why would making a guy who tried to bomb your hotel twice roleplay a scenario which lesson is drugs and sex before marriage are bad solve him? How does this make your drug addict sex worker patient get better! Sure it’s funny as a concept from how absurd it is, but you have to address how fucked up that is. Hazbin hotel doesn’t do that.

Hazbin hotel is terrified of conflict, which ends up ruining anything it could say about bigotry since that means it has to seriously address the sins of its main cast! The kind of conflict in Hazbin hotel is so fucking complex, whether that be recovery or rape or addiction or enslavement or genocide, and since the show doesn’t know how to give deep into that complexity, it simplifies it in every fucking side, making it look nothing like it does in real life, which cause it to say almost nothing about these topics other than it’s kinda bad. Once you see how terrified of conflict Hazbin hotel is as a show and how it always goes for the easy and lazy route in writing, you notice it everywhere. It’s even in the fucking dialogue.

the show wants so badly to critique Christianity, to critique how these people who have no clue what people they oppress and demonize actually go through, but it can’t criticize Charlie for shit, ruining the entire point it’s trying to make. Why? Because viziepop is emotionally too attached to the concept she’s had of Charlie for years, so much that she can’t change the story to reflect how privileged and bigoted Charlie is and either have Charlie change or get worse because she never changed since it would be changing her special little girl. She’s too attached to the idea she’s had of Charlie, so much that it hurts her own story. From her inability to kill her darlings, her whole story loses it entire point. Hazbin hotel ends up becoming a malformed barely readable essay of a show when it comes to its themes, a rough first draft which needs a beta reader and at least three more drafts to get to what viziepop wants it to feel like. I do think somewhere in viziepop she recognizes what Charlie does is bad, but since she doesn’t know how to write her getting better at helping others, she simply just has it all happen off screen while Charlie acts the exact same. She can’t truly admit how bigoted Charlie is, because Charlie is like a friend to her, she’s not utilizing Charlie as a fictional character she made to make a point fully because she treats Charlie like a family member who’s just a bit unwoke because they don’t know any better.

but then again, what else can you expect from a show which made a lot of gay people be in hell and made its heaven canonically homophobic and then never commited to the reason why a lot of gay people are in hell is from bigotry?

Charlie is Vivziepop’s idea of what a “kind” person is. The princess is a selfish, condescending, and incompetent brat who fails to help people. She always thinks about how her actions affect her and nobody else. Charlie refuses to listen to criticism and firmly believes she's always "correct.”

However, no one ever calls out the Princess of Hell on her flaws and actions because we're expected to see her as a "nice" person like the rest of the cast does. We keep hearing that she’s “good” despite her behavior proving otherwise.

Charlie is an insufferable womanchild, and characters praise her for improving Hell despite her doing the bare minimum to change anything.

[bogleech]

I think some of you have no idea what the Slimer craze was like in the 80′s or even that there was one. He was absolutely everywhere. His face could sell anything. The Ghostbusters cartoon started out serious and had Slimer as just a minor sidekick but kids loved him so much that the network kept mandating more and more Slimer until eventually it evolved into just the Slimer show, literally its final incarnation was only called “Slimer!” and it was the ghostbusters who were a (now goofier) background presence.

And it’s hilarious because he is objectively such a horrible horrible thing. Yes children love horror and monsters and all but Slimer’s marketing completely REMOVED him from all that. He was not sold to us little 80′s kids as something edgy-gross, he was pushed as something cutesy and wholesome and treated in those later cartoons like he was a child.

I just think that’s really funny both in and out of his canon. A man died, and his soul degenerated into a malformed oozing blob motivated by pure hunger. He barely remembers how to be human and can barely communicate. Everybody thinks this is very funny and they love him, the end.

[starfleet-jelly]

Some Vulcan Headcanons

They have like no base in canon just things I thought about Vulcans most of them don’t have evidence either. Most of my Vulcan fanfics will probably be based off these headcanons, I’ll be adding and editing this post whenever I feel differently or think of new things~ 💕

* Vulcans can outrun humans with speed, however humans can outrun Vulcans by distance.

* Vulcans are better climbers

* Vulcans have death grips. Once they have you, it’s gonna be difficult to get away.

* They have slightly longer fingers, better for climbing!

* Vulcans can’t jump as high as a human can, however, it isn’t by much, a couple inches at most.

* Vulcans eat a lot more than they are shown. Even though they have slow metabolisms they have dense muscles that need lots of protein, luckily there are lots of high protein grains and vegetables on Vulcan.

* Ancient Vulcans were cave dwellers. The caves provided protections of predators and kept them cooler in the extreme heat of Vulcan.

* Due to the fact that the seas are small and in few numbers on Vulcan, most Vulcans cannot swim, however, in coastal towns, more of them have the knowledge on how to swim, but it seems most Vulcans still prefer to not to go for a dip. There is always the odd duck who loves to swim though.

* Before sonic showers, Vulcan use small bucks of water with a rag, or more commonly sand to bathe with

* Because of their muscles and flexibility, Vulcans don’t take a lot of fall damage, even a Vulcan child could fall from the a height that would easily kill a human and walk away with minor injuries

* Vulcan have very strong leg bones and muscles because of the slightly higher gravity than Earth

* Vulcans in the north prefer spicier food while people in the south prefer food with little, if any, spice. Humans to try the food are often stuck with something that seems boring to them, or just downright painful from the spice

* Because of their telepathic abilities, Vulcan babies need a lot of skin contact in their first few months after birth. It is not uncommon for a Vulcan mother or father to carry their infant child to their bare chest, even in public, usually tucked into their robes

* Because Vulcans are touch telepaths children get a sense of calm from their parents when they are in contact but also form familiar bonds, lack of touch can lead to malformation and damage to new neural networks in the infants brain

* Vulcan toddlers are volatile, they have yet to master their emotions and tend to throw fits over many things. Skin contact, such as hugging, holding and cuddling, from their parents usually calms them down. It’s common for children from ages 0-5 to sleep in their parent’s bed as they need near constant contact. During this time Vulcan parents begin to tech meditative practices such as hymns and monturas. As Vulcan children grow older, parents will begin to slowly step away from skin contact in exchange for led meditations

* On Vulcan, it is common practice for one of the parents to stay home and raise the child or children, however, if one of the parent die, close family such as grandparents or aunts and uncles will also help take care of the child or children.

* Young Vulcan children (5-12) do not completely suppress their emotions, they do however learn not to express them. Bullying, fighting, and rebellious behavior is not uncommon for this age group.

* For older Vulcan children (between 13-25) who have difficulty controlling their emotions, even with led meditations, the child is usually sent to a monastery for education.

* Vulcans aren’t fully mature until after the age of 30.

* Vulcans usually don’t experience Pon Farr until after the age of 30, usually between 30-35, but there has been some outliers. Some Vulcans can go through Pon Farr as early as 26 and as old as 40, but this is uncommon and usually means there is a health problem.

* Both male and female Vulcans go through Pon Farr.

* I don’t care what anyone tells me, Vulcans do and will have sex outside of Pon Farr.

* Vulcan ear shape is hereditary. The more curved ears you see on Spock, Sarek, Taurik are less common than the flat ears you see on T’Pol and Tuvok

* Vulcans with light colored eyes tend to have bad vision and worsens with age. They tend to spend more time inside because the sun can be unbearable at times. But Vulcans with light colored eyes can see in the dark better than Vulcans with dark colored eyes. Light colored eyes was a mutation that only accrued after urbanization of Vulcan.

* Vulcans are cold to the touch, like someone who has been outside without a coat in winter. Because they’re naturally cooler Vulcans don’t need to sweat to keep cool. If ancient Vulcans got too hot they could move into caves to cool down.

* Young Vulcans (under the age of 10) and old Vulcans (over the age of 130) have a difficult time keeping warm. On modern Vulcan it is fixed with indoor heating and cooling.

* Vulcan has many hot springs, most of which are underground, and are popular. However most tourists, such a humans, cannot use them as most are too hot.

* Vulcans have two different types of robes. Robes they wear during the day that keep them cool, and robes for night to keep them warm.

* The silk that Vulcans robes are made of are actually from a plant. The plant produces a silk like substance that is sticky to prevent animals from eating it. It’s very strong and ancient Vulcans scrapped the silk from the plants and ate them. Modern day Vulcans grow these plants near the seas in the north and far south near the pole.

* Other Vulcan clothing is made from wool from an animal that is similar to sheep and alpaca. Their wool is usually use to make evening wear. The wool also used in the making of blankets, pillows, and rugs

* The soles of Vulcans shoes are usually made from a hard woody root, which were better for walking on rock. Vulcan shoes can also be made from a type grass that is common on Vulcan, which are better for walking in sand. Shoes for military are made from rubber.

* The reason why Vulcans in tos have all kind of different hair styles is because at that time period Vulcan youth wanted to rebel against common standers, it’s also why T’Pring did not wear a traditional Vulcan wedding dress.

* It’s common for Vulcan women to cover their hair, whether it be long or short. Not only does it keep their hair clean from sand but it also protects their head from the sun.

* There is actually a wide variety of fashion on Vulcan, differing types of robes, dresses, and suits. Most common colors are usually neutrals but silvers, blues, purples, and greens are common in the south while golds, reds, oranges, and yellows are more common in the north.

* The common Vulcan bowlcut, humans call it, is more common in the government and military of Vulcan. The short hair is easy to maintain and keep care of. Many Vulcan citizens has varying hairstyles and most depend on what region they live in. It is not uncommon for Vulcan men and women to have long hair, especially if they do not work in manual labor.

* Most Vulcan men shave their faces. There are many reasons for it, such as, it’s cleaner, easier to maintain, keeps them cooler, and it looks more professional.

* When it comes to body hair, it is 50/50 on who shaves. The area around the reproductive organs are usually maintained but not shaved, as for legs, arms, and under arms, some areas it is more common to save than others. Young Vulcan men usually shave their chest, but as they get older is more uncommon.

* Vulcan women have on occasion worn makeup. Buying makeup on Vulcan is uncommon, many women on Vulcan grow plants that can be use for make up such as flowers that can be ground for lipstick or a crushed leaf for rouge. These plants usually have other uses such as medical or as food.

* Sehlats are not the only pets Vulcans keep. They also keep small rodents and occasionally a ferret like animal too.

* Vulcan pet names are usually old Vulcan names no one uses anymore or names of monsters or animals from ancient Vulcan literature.

* Sehlats aren’t fed meat, but instead high protein grain and vegetables and eggs. Sehlats are naturally omnivores but the need for meat was bred out of thousands of years.

[absurdumsid]

I loooove the idea of Horror being freaked out by Dust and Killer because they are the same person driven to the very VERY edge of their patience but have turned out vastly different !!

I've made a tiny little essay comparing Murder Time Trio sepcifically because of this (thank you so much I've been meaning to do this for so long)

Fair warning everything i write here is my personal interpretation of canon and i sprinkle in some of my own headcanons. It will include spoilers mainly for Horrortale but also Dusttale and Something New.

tl;dr: Horror runs away from the consequences of his actions and justifies them by comparing it to Dust and Killer- who have their friends and family's dust on their hands. He is aware that they are the same person as him, driven to different lengths, but is scared of the fact that they are proof he can kill the monsters in his underground by himself. It almost resembles hypocrisy because he already has dust on his hands. The blood from the humans he feeds the monsters of Snowdin are just vibrant enough to hide the ash.

They're all insane in their own way. To me, they've all got an intimate relationship with denial and vengeance. But Killer and Dust's entire identities center on murder as a twisting road to freedom. Horror is almost the complete opposite, he is the one who takes away freedom. This results in a dynamic between people who have nothing left but the dust on their hands and a person who chooses to shovel the dust from the ground and throw it into your eyes (out of spite !!)

Some comparisons you could make between Horror and Dust/Killer involve visible injury, different kill counts, and of course, circumstances.

But let's start with circumstances. Both Dust and Killer are from repeated genocide timelines. Their difference is in their volition. Dust chooses to kill the monsters, Killer is forced by the player.

Dust's "injury" manifests in Phantom Papyrus, who haunts him in every timeline and reset. He lingers beside him, taunting and guilting him. A constant reminder of his sins. I also want to point out how his eyes show he has let go of Justice and only has single-minded devotion left to push him through killing everyone to stop a single child. He has nothing and nobody left but this one goal- his purpose.

Killer's "injury" shows through his tears, which floods out of him as if he is grieving, because his body can't take the Determination, because he was never made to be a murderer. His malformed soul puts on display the fact that he's been abused, deformed, and has suffered through irreversible damage. Even after murdering the very person who turned him into Killer, he has not achieved the control he wants. He has nothing left but killing, he can do nothing but embrace the fact that this is all he will be.

Horror's "injury" is very simple- the giant hole on his skull, an injury that shows he was meant to be a sacrifice. And his missing eye, replaced by one he stole from another monster.

Unlike the other two, Horror comes from an AU that survives a Neutral Run where Undyne becomes queen. But the Underground, because of the CORE malfunctioning, begins to struggle to survive under the new rule. Sans and many monsters try to fix the CORE, but monsters still continue to die. Horror, unlike Dust and Killer, watches his loved ones die not by the hand of the player, but by the force of the very thing meant to keep them alive.

In desperation, Alphys proposes they use Sans' magic to reactivate the CORE, which Undyne refuses, because she can't just sacrifice her friend. Not after everything he's done for them. But when Sans proposes they dismantle the CORE from the outside in to find out how they can power it, which could and will take ages, Undyne sacrifices him to save many for the price of one life.

Sana, betrayed and used, loses his Patience and seeks vengeance. Despite being shown what it means to be the saviour of the Underground, what it means to be a sacrifice- he destroys the CORE and all of the monsters' hopes with it.

Additionally, faced with a famine, he creates a new pseudo-rule in Snowdin. He enforces a law that ensures no human can get through the icy woods alive, he makes sure that no human soul can arrive at Undyne's doorstep and essentially traps the monters in the Underground out of vengeance, out of spite.

Horror doesn't have the same amount of kills as Dust or Killer, but he is the same amount, if not more, messed up as the both of them. Because Horror watches the monsters struggle, murder, and go insane under rules of his own making, under a tragedy of his design. He even starves himself in the middle of a famine, not to free food for others but to preserve his principles.

He doesn't kill, but he might as well be the fallen angel that will "free the underground." Unlike Dust who takes action because his family is killed, he doesn't do anything unless he is wronged. Unlike Killer who was forced to murder, Horror willingly took vengeance by the throat even if it meant everyone went down with him.

Horror would look at Dust and Killer, clock them as murderers, and be disgusted by the fact that they've dusted their hands because the player killed the people they love. Because Horror still has Grillby, the monsters that hang around, and more importantly, he still has Papyrus.

Horror would look at them and think his actions are still justifiable, because he hasn't sullied his hands with the dust of his fellow monsters yet. At least, not directly.

Horror would look at them in fear of his potential to become like Dust and Killer, because he's simply denying the truth- that he has already taken many monsters' lives in his act of vengeance.

tl;dr 2: Horror is just as bad as Dust and Killer. He's afraid of his potential to be like them, but he already is.

Okay the art is scrappy but BEAR WITH ME i have stuff to say.

Don't you ever think, like, Horror gets kinda terrified at the idea of being around Dust and Killer? I mean, sure, they're all messed up in the heads, they've all killed, Horror's no exception and he's got the bloodstains on his shirt to lay proof of it.

But I feel like being around versions of yourself that have killed your own brother or, you know, THE ENTIRE UNDERGROUND would be deeply unsettling. Even more so, Dust and Killer aren't from AUs where the universe itself is fundamentally different, no. They all come from the same kind of universe, all three of them are the same old 'Sans the Skeleton'. or at least they used to be until, y'know. Only difference is what the player/Frisk had done in these timelines.

Would that not freak him out? Would he actively avoid being around Dust and Killer, wouldn't he hate it?? And unlike Dust and Killer he has his own world to return to, even if it's royally screwed over, he still has Papyrus. I don't think he'd be as attached to the whole idea of the 'Bad Sanses' as the other two are, which could bring questions on how Nightmare feels about all of it.

I dunno maybe I'm just thinking this over too much. Just food for thought, I guess.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Dsmp disability/neurodivergence hcs pog

(Obviously all to do with the characters, not the content creators!)

To start with, the characters with disabled/neurodivergent actors have the same disabilities/neurodivergences- George is colourblind, Tubbo is dyslexic, Wilbur is probably autistic, Dream, Techno, Eret, and Karl have ADHD, ect (in case I forgot anyone lol.)

Callahan is entirely mute due to unknown causes. While all of the original eight and a couple more people on the server know sign language, he primarily communicates with writing in the server's group chat.

Ponk is missing three of her limbs- both of her legs entirely and her arm up to the elbow. He has redstone and gold prosthetics in similar colours to his mask.

Fundy's developed some pretty bad anxiety ever since the Final Control Room.

JSchlatt suffered severe substance abuse issues, along with atrophying muscles.

Eret's cloudy white eyes, while mostly stemming from their descendance from ghosts, does leave them with very light sensitive and slightly blurry eyes. That’s another reason he wears sunglasses, apart from hiding his eyes, to reduce the pain of sunlight.

Jack Manifold lost his tail during his second canon death making it very hard for him to balance (I draw him as a wolf hybrid btw before you wonder). After coming back as a hellhound his firey tails do a bit to help but he’s also left with constant minor chronic pain, along with feeling constantly freezing cold despite feeling fever-warm to the touch.

Along with the obvious amnesia, dying in the explosion in El Rapids left Karl partially deaf, which he talks even louder than before to try and compensate.

HBomb has addiction issues with alcohol.

Ever since his revival with the totem, Technoblade's had frequent headaches and hypersensitivity to touches to his head.

Along with his severe allergies to water and amnesia, Ranboo is autistic (mostly because I like him and I WILL self project onto all my faves bby).

Those behind the cut- an extra warning for fairly graphic descriptions of torture, abuse, injury, and death!

Due to Quackity’s torture, Dream is missing an arm above the elbow. He’s also had most of his claws/teeth removed or damaged, making it very hard for him to move or eat. He’s partially blind, due to having an eye ripped out, and is partially deaf due to having an ear torn off in addition to many, many blows to the head.

Tommy's autistic and ADHD (shut up let me project on this character). He’s also got PTSD and depression. His first death in the Final Control Room permanently crippled his leg, requiring him to wear a leg brace, and his second death having an arrow through his skull left him with frequent migraines. The Glasgow Grin I always draw him with after Exile makes it hard for him to eat or speak, and he very frequently pops off the stitches- he carries a needle and thread with him at all times to help with this. It’s also part of the reason he’s so fond of gapples- their healing properties numb the pain when they touch his mouth. After his revival, he’s hyper mobile- with his limbs that were broken in his death bending at weird angles- and has severe chronic pain due to his injuries never healing (meaning he’s got really bad bruises and cuts over all his body). His wings are atrophied and have been from “birth”, being malformed under the heavy feathers and not even enough to glide with.

Tubbo's got burn scars primarily covering his arms and half his face- he raised his arms to block the first firework but the blast almost completely destroyed his arms and the second blast hit the side of his face directly- but cover basically his entire body. They never healed over properly and get damaged or infected very easily. One of his eyes was so badly damaged in the blast it’s completely blind and clouded over. One of his horns was also destroyed to the base, and its incredibly painful when touched. Tubbo's also developed some issues with substance abuse- mostly alcoholism, though at a MUCH lighter level than Schlatt. He’s also obviously got PTSD and anxiety, ect.

Wilbur Soot always struggled with depression and paranoid tendencies, which worsened as the series went on along with the trauma from the Final Control Room. His wings were damaged by his second canon death, leaving one of them so badly damaged he can no longer glide with them. He developed substance abuse issues, mostly with smoking but also vaping and alcohol. One of his arms was destroyed by the blast of L'Manburg, and this carried over to Ghostbur (with Revivebur, its where his arm bleeds and where I draw his mechanical arm). Ghostbur had severe amnesia, in addition.

Quackity is partially blind in one of his eyes, where Techno drove a pickaxe through. It’s clouded over but he can see out of it a bit. The side of his mouth on the same side is paralysed in its position too, due to again having a pickaxe brutally shoved through it. He also has some substance abuse issues- he did found the cartel, after all!

Philza is autistic (am I making the whole sbi family autistic because I’m autistic and I like them? Yes and you can’t stop me). Obviously the explosion damaged his wings- absolutely tottering them, making them unable to fly or even glide along with making every touch to them very painful, though he still refuses to get them amputated even if it’d probably be the wiser decision- it also damaged the side of his face and his destroyed his eye closest to the blast, revealing that under his skin is just a void of stars.

[sallymew4]

hiii here are some doodlessss ignore the minor grammar mistake on that one bit lol

i finally drew Lefty so im gonna dump some headcanons here [along with some Pippit and Wolfie headcanons hehe]

ok so Lefty is afro-czech, in its 20s probs, genderqueer, and uses it/its pronouns. it shows its love and feelings through flowers because its really knowledgeable on em, and uses asl because of apraxia causing its muteness. also i believe in vegan Lefty that is so real

Pippit is albino chinese [like Puppet cuz of the copy thing], demigender, cupioromantic, and uses they/them pronouns, has parkinson's disease and sialorrhea. the malformation of their eyes, however, is completely from their father's [FT. Freddy] meddling. also, im unsure what the exact name is but they use the canes that attach to your wrist to help support you !! also also, i headcanon them as like 17 because their arc is kinda teen angst and stuff lol

Lefty sibling adopts Pippit because it can relate to them a lot but Pippit has no clue lol

Wolfie [tw for gore, in relation to the image, maybe ?? its not very realistic though so idk] is brazilian with vitiligo, nonbinary [ok with terms like 'son' though, canonically 16 im pretty sure, and uses he/him pronouns. he used magic for his top surgery cuz i think the idea is neat. also autism and adhd mwahaha

also technically Wolfie and Pippit are step-siblings given they are both FT. Freddy's 'children'. split by timelines, how sad

sorry for not drawing Wolfie's wings btw i was not in the mood :¬(

[novantinuum]

Shattering Atlas (a corrupted!Steven one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depression and body horror)

Words: 4.2K~

Summary: A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much.

Folks, here it is! I’m finally finished. AO3 link to be posted in the reblogs.

Disclaimer: This is absolutely far darker and more drastic than I believe canon would EVER tread if this theory had the faintest chance of being anywhere close to the truth, but sometimes you just feel like being super angsty for angst's sake, y'feel? It was an interesting writing experiment nonetheless. Not gonna lie, this is kinda a vent piece. Please do heed those tags. This delves into some difficult territory both mentally and otherwise, as it's written entirely from Steven's POV.

_____

Steven knows he’s messed-up.

It’s not something he tries to advertise to all the sweet, innocent people who somehow after all this time still choose to stand by his side, but he can’t lie to himself. Spending a significant chunk of your childhood actively doubting your own personhood shatters you in ways no amount of unconditional love can ever hope to mend. And sure, he’s not his mom. He knows that. Been there, had the mental breakdown, seen it, done it. The proof’s in his gem half. He knows. But as much as everyone in his life coddles him, gently tries to reassure him while he tirelessly works day and night to realign the foundation of an entire ancient civilization...

“You’re almost an adult now, isn’t that exciting?”

“Don’t worry about the future, the futures I see for you are as limitless as they are bright.”

“Take a break if you need to, ‘kay? You totally deserve one, little man.”

“Y’know, Schtu-ball, the wonderful thing about adulthood is that you can choose to fly wherever the wind takes you!”

...it’s clear none of that matters anyways. Because it’s not true, not for him. Because beyond his identity as a Crystal Gem, beyond that bottomless desire for belonging he’s been chasing all his life, ever since the fateful moment early in his childhood in which he finally realized— small, pudgy hands clutching at the oversized hand-me-down shirt right over the pink hand-me-down gem in his belly— that he isn’t like anyone else and never will be, the truth is that he genuinely doesn’t know what he wants. Who he is.

Everyone else does.

Connie has plans. Hopes, dreams. A future. She’s already thinking about college, and aims on double majoring in political science and environmental science. (A combination only she’s daring enough to pursue, but if anyone’s got the drive to succeed in that it’s her.) Dad’s still manager for Sadie Killer and the Suspects, and they’re going strong. Amethyst has been playing tour guide to all her fellow Prime sisters lately, galavanting with them all around planet Earth. Garnet is currently on the search for terrified cross-fusion Gems still in hiding across the galaxy. Pearl, Bismuth, and a number of the boardies have spearheaded a campaign to help slowly teach and integrate the humans of the Zoo into modern day society. Lapis and Peridot recently built another barn in the outskirts of Little Homeworld, and are enjoying each other’s company.

But him? When all is said and done, as the restructured Gem society stabilizes and soon no one will need him for anything anymore, when Gems and humans alike stop knocking on his metaphoric door with handfuls of their problems for him to drop everything and solve, he has nothing left. He’s no one. No future, no clue. He’s been drained empty.

He’s just drifting through life with the parking break on, continuously waiting— his nerves jittering at every quiet moment— for the next big crisis to crash into his universe and drop feed him even the tinniest shard of purpose.

After all, what is one to do when they’ve spent their entire life training to save the world, but the world has already been saved?

_____

He can’t recall exactly when his current predicament began anymore.

Time’s been hard to keep track of as of late— the days and weeks blending together in an incomprehensible fashion— and yet simultaneously, he might as well have lived a lifetime in the span of the blink of an eye. That being said, he’s pretty sure his most recent gem troubles didn’t truly kick into gear until after the incident with the, erm... cactus monstrosities.

He genuinely didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he didn’t. He only wanted to help... to heal. To try and repair but a shred of the damage Homeworld wrought on this innocent world. It worked when Earth was poisoned, so it should work in the Kindergartens too, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

His stomach churns as he catches a glimpse of a silly photo of Peridot and himself hanging on the wall by the stairs. A static monument to his shame. Lapis is (still, days later— or is it weeks?) taking care of her gemstone at this very moment, sure, but remembering what happened before that... holding Peridot’s cracked gem in his quivering hands, biting back cries of hopelessness as he ran to the nearest warp pad, escaping from the malformed, hurting creatures born of his own magic... it‘s the kind of horror that he’s sure will linger in his dreams for a long time yet.

It’s like he’s broken. Like his powers just aren’t coming as naturally to him anymore. It’s not quite like that time with the rejuvenator. There’s no sickly glow flickering in and out of existence. No external force acting upon it. No, it’s deeper than that. It’s not a gem sourced problem, it’s him. He’s just... wrong. He’ll try to use his healing ability and it’ll backfire, he’ll summon his bubbles and shields but they’re noticeably less durable, he’ll birth life from his very soul and it’ll grow bitter and corrupt, every bit a mirror of his present mental state. He’ll jump up high in the sky to burn out years of repressed stress in semi-peace and before he can actually do so gravity will grab ahold of him like he’s a petulant, disobedient child and drag him back to the shore. It makes him want to scream, to grind his fingers into the sand so hard his knuckles go white as he sobs out every last one of his stupid, meaningless frustrations, but instead his house is always swarming with people, and his bedroom has no real door, (and he’s too embarrassed to ask for one), and in sum he can never find enough time alone to freely be his genuine messed-up self. It’s fine, though. He doubts he’s capable of crying at this point anyways.

“Dude, you okay?” Amethyst asks with brows furrowed in concern, snapping him back to reality.

His GameStation controller rests precariously in his loose grasp, entirely forgotten in the previous moment. The game they’re playing is paused. He must have blanked out again, and completely ruined their co-op fight. He lets out a shaky breath as he tightens his fingers around the plastic grips, digging into them as if they’re his sole handle on reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says swiftly, plastering a smile on his face with the ease of someone who’s been growing adept at this endless charade for months and months. “Didn’t sleep too well last night. Muscle cramps from training, y’know?”

He watches her closely, catalogues every minute shift in her features. Her eyes narrow so slightly that anyone else might’ve missed it. But he doesn’t. He’s observant. He’s gotta be. It’s the only way he’s kept going for this long, the only way he can ensure no one else knows. They don’t need any more worry. Regardless, Amethyst’s lack of subtlety betrays her, because it’s clear she’s searching his expression and body language right back. His chest pounds. Hastily, he holds up the controller, feeling his face go pale under her scrutiny.

Geeze, how pathetic.

No matter how hard he tries to mask it, he‘s already falling apart.

“So... we gonna play another round, or?” Right as he says this, his stomach chooses to let out an inopportune gurgle. He bites at the insides of his cheeks, inwardly cursing at the bad timing.

It’s thankfully enough to divert Amethyst’s attention from... other matters, though.

“Yo. Ste-man. Your stomach’s straight up monologuing. Have you even eaten today?”

He dimly considers this as he tries not to focus on how empty and faint his body currently feels, mind turning to fuzz. “Uhh...”

She frowns, and promptly pulls herself to her feet. “Yeah, so I’m gonna take that as a no. I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Gonna get us some cheese!” she declares bombastically, putting on a mock announcer voice.

He watches her leave his room, prancing downstairs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A faint huff of sheer relief passes through his nostrils. Absentmindedly, his thumbs jiggle the controller’s joystick, unable to strike the earlier image of Amethyst— concern engulfing her usually carefree self— from his mind. He really should be more careful about what he says. How he acts.

He honestly couldn’t live with himself if he slipped up and became yet another emotionally taxing problem for them to deal with. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl... all his family, his friends. They deserve peace. They deserve to be satisfied, they deserve their happily ever after. They certainly don’t deserve him, self-destructing all over the bright and shining future they’d won.

Or nearly shattering them.

Putting them in needless danger, danger that’s all his fault, because he’s broken.

His throat grows tight, airway constricted, images of black beady eyes, razor sharp fangs, and malformed limbs invading his thoughts, clawing away at insecurities long scabbed over until they ooze a bitter red. Peridot’s shrill yelp as she’s overtaken in an instant. That dreadful, immediately recognizable sound, a cracking Gem, seared onto his heart for the rest of time.

He... he can’t deny it anymore. His magic’s gone toxic. He’s toxic, bringing suffering and decay where once he brought healing. All his Gem powers are fading, maybe forever. And with them fading, he’ll soon be of no use to anyone, and when they realize why they faded they won’t want him around anyways, and y’know, it’s probably for the better they’ll have a concrete reason to finally push him away. He’s not stupid. He’s always known what an emotionally taxing strain he’s been on everyone, ever since the day Mom died for him to be born.

Steven grips the controller so hard that his fingers grow numb, mind stewing in the dark fantasies of what he’d like to do with himself when he’s left behind for good.

And then... his heart leaps in his throat as he dimly hears Amethyst begin to whisper to the others (they’re back? They’re back?? When did they return, why didn’t you notice them, how could you just miss—) downstairs.

“Y’guys,” he hears her say frantically, under her breath, “I think we really gotta talk with Steven. Something’s seriously wrong, and he won’t tell me what.”

“What, you mean to say he’s in danger? Garnet, do you see anything?”

“Hmm. I don’t foresee any external threats to Steven’s safety in the near future, but...”

“Amethyst, he’s clearly still upset about Peridot. And once she reforms in a few days, when she’s ready, he’ll be fine! Trust me.“

“No, trust me, I genuinely think this is more than just Peridot! It’s getting me super worried. He hasn’t been eating like he should, y’guys. I don’t think he’s showered in days. Sometimes it’s like he’s... I dunno, like, he isn’t even fully present. And y’know, thinking about it now? It’s been like this for a while. Since before all the cactus stuff.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not sure how we could—“

“We need to call Greg over,” Garnet interrupts Pearl, a new, thinly veiled panic rising in her voice. “Right now.”

His eyes stretch open wide.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no... Not here, not now, not— please, not now!

His breath hastens, his body outright shaking now. He curls tight into himself, the game controller dropping from his slackened fingers onto the floor as he clutches his knees to his chest. Sweat beads in droplets on his forehead. He outright yanks at his hair.

Amethyst, she can’t just waltz downstairs and!—

I don’t want to—

Peridot, getting cracked, I- it’s all my fault and she didn’t—

I- all of this- I’m so useless, careless, l- I’m losing my mind, what’s even wrong- why are you panicking!- I don’t—

T-they can’t know, they can’t know, they CAN’T—

He can’t fully bite back his cries as his gem flares burning hot, a rush of pure, unadulterated agony spiking through his hard light veins in an indescribably eternal split-second, the very experience of hypocrisy. Every single muscle in his body seizes. His ears ring, filled with a cacophonous clamor of sound that slashes through his mind with the deadly force of a long blade. Crippling. Debilitating. All-consuming. Hell. This is hell. Because then his head is pounding, and his limbs are all weak and shaky, and for a moment he’s bathed in a faint wash of pink, the glow enveloping him like his own corona of sickness as he succumbs to the pain he’s sequestered inside, bitterly festering for all these years.

Hell eventually recedes, both its note and its physical touch, but the dark clouds looming over his mind do not. Slowly, he loosens his grip on his curls, trying desperately to bring balance to his breathing. His ears are still ringing. His head is still cotton. Questions abound. For instance: what on Earth was that?? Stars, is something else wrong with his gem now, too? Thoroughly disorientated, he yanks up the hem of his shirt.

“Steven?!” Pearl calls frantically from downstairs, right as his trembling fingers gently trace the exposed facets of his gem. “Are you okay up there?”

He squints, features compressing in his sheer confusion. Visually, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. No imperfections, no flickering light, nothing. So then what’s—

“Hey, Steven? Yo?? You, uh- maybe wanna come eat downstairs, or?”

A shudder runs clear through his form, starting from his gem and coursing outwards to the furthest extremities. He grits his teeth as he rides through the stabbing discomfort, clutching at his stomach. It’s like he’s about to vomit. Sure, so maybe he was really hungry before, and maybe that has a little to do with what he’s experiencing now, but... this... still doesn’t feel right. Spots swim in his vision as he glances down again.

And that’s when he sees it, slowly creeping across the skin of his bare forearm as clear as day.

It’s a patch of dull, pinkish hide. Not human skin, hide. He runs his index finger along its perimeter, all of reality screeching to a halt as his brain performs somersaults in a desperate last-ditch attempt to contextualize the information his eyes are sending him right now.

“What?” he whispers in disbelief, (even though he has a few terrifying theories), frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

“I’m checking on him,” Garnet says, just loud enough that he knows for certain she intends him to hear. Solid footsteps creep across the floorboards, advancing towards the foot of the stairs.

It’s frankly impressive how fast a single stimulus can turn panic to outright paranoia.

He almost trips over himself diving to retrieve his jacket off the floor, forcing his arms through the sleeves faster than any of the Gems could ever summon their weapons. Hide it. Hide it away. They can’t see you, they can’t know you’re corru- NO! Stop.

Bathroom. He needs to get to the bathroom.

His bare feet solidly connect with the floor, toes curling inwards as he shudders again. A pulsing ache settles into the bones of his skull. Then a prickle at his neck. Reflexively, he slaps his hand against the affected locale. There’s another spot steadily growing there.

Alone, NOW.

The whole world’s spinning as he turns on his heels and flies across the length of his bedroom— sprinting past the TV, shoving past Garnet, who’s already halfway up the open stairwell, and leaping clear over the couch from midway down the last set of steps. (Everyone’s shouting in blind panic as he enters their sight. Fear. Needless, unwanted worry. Calling his name, calling for peace, but his ears are still ringing and their voices are overlapping and he can’t distinguish any of it.) When he reaches the bathroom his hand grips the knob so hard that the metal almost crumples under his force, and he swings himself through the doorway, slams it shut, and turns the lock with pink-splotched fingers faster than any one of the Gems can move to stop him.

For a split moment, things are okay. He’s alone. Moreover, he’s safe.

(But are you really?)

His head is pounding again, the pulsing at his temples soon coalescing into a constant inescapable misery. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he lets his forehead lull against the door. Flexes his knuckles, imagines the splotches disappearing from sight as easily as eye bags under makeup. He tries to calm his breathing in the meditative way Garnet once showed him. In for four counts... and out. In... and out. Come on, just ride it out, Universe. You’re a Gem- a diamond, for cripe’s sake! Control it. Conceal. Move on.

“Steven?!” Amethyst calls from outside. “Please talk to us, what’s goin’ on?”

"Whatever it is, you don't have to be alone!" Pearl adds. He doesn't even have to see her face to know that she's crying.

A renewed burst of panic spikes through his veins at this realization.

“Stop worrying about me, I’m fine!” he bites back on impulse.

“No, you’re NOT!” Amethyst hollers, and then... after a thoughtful pause, her tone softening: “I- I know you’re not.”

He stares down at his hands, brows threading together, watching as the patch of hide continues to inch across his skin. The genuine concern interlaced in every syllable of her speech is enough to make his gut churn with guilt.

“Steven, I... stars, I know you probably overheard me talking to everyone jus’ a second ago, and I know I probably betrayed every scrap of trust we ever had ‘coz of that, and I wanna say I’m sorry, but I can’t just stand aside and watch you treat yourself like garbage. Please, the door’s jammed. Let us in. We just wanna help!”

His lip quivers, despite himself. “I don’t need any help!” he insists, stubbornly pushing past the crack in his voice. “I’m just—“

He’s interrupted by a rush of crippling agony radiating upwards from his gem once more, the ache at either side of his head intensifying into three points. Hands rush to the site on automatic. Fingers grasping, searching. Discovering.

There’s something growing at his temples, he realizes with a rush of horror. Something hard, faceted. Disturbingly cold to the touch.

There’s no way to bite back his screams as the growths fully protrude, none at all, even with his mouth clamped shut, and even though he can’t see them he can sense their weight as they wind upwards and back, up and out of his curls, and he’s shaking, oh stars is he shaking, chest heaving up and down so hard he’s not sure he’ll ever be free of these awful tremors ever again, and— A hoarse sob forces its way to the surface as a third growth crowns his forehead. Trembling fingers scrape down the length of the door as he collapses to his knees, nails sharpening into gnarled talons as they sink further and further into the wood, carving through it like butter. He clenches his jaw back together so hard that with any greater pressure he might shatter his own teeth.

Still quite woozy under the threat of hyperventilation, he slowly turns his head. Extricates those dreadful claws from the door. Dares himself to look. Forcing himself back up to his feet, he gazes deep into the depths of the mirror. And as the creature trapped on the other side stares back through sickeningly pink irises— blotches of color steadily creeping up their jawline and across their cheek, inching to meet the base of those glistening crystalline horns— all known reality shatters into smithereens.

Not me, not me, not me, is the mantra he chants to himself like a prayer, stubbornly clinging to any vestige of normalcy as if this is all but a vivid nightmare he can stir awake from.

(As if deep down, a tiny, beaten-down part of himself still wants to believe he deserves a future too.)

But the darkness reflected in that mirror is following his every jerky, erratic movement as all the despair and guilt and self-hatred festering within continues to consume him like a matchstick to fire.

Not real. It’s not real! I don’t need help. I don’t need the Gems, they don’t need to know, I’m fine, I’m FINE, this isn’t corru - NO, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT! YOU CAN’T—

They’re yelling outside. Arguing, probably. (And true to form, Pearl‘s cries are the shrillest.) But he can’t be certain of anything anymore while smothered under the fog’s thickening surface, with the rest of the world relegated to mere static and stimuli. Not a word, not a clue. No way to know if it’s an argument about him or with him.

And in his mind their distress stands as yet another sign. Just another slice of proof that they truly are at their happiest without him, that his continued existence only serves as a complication. He can’t deny it anymore. He can’t lie, can’t tiptoe around the inevitable truth; like this, he’s nothing but a liability. A ticking time bomb, set to shatter everything and everyone in his path. Shaking like a leaf, he unfurls his fists, watching as the dull pink hide overtakes the last clear patches of flesh upon his misshapen, monstrous fingers.

They’re better off without you.

The passing seconds cease to exist as he convulses again, this time centralized at the base of the spinal column. He doubles over, leans into the pain. Rides it through vertebrae by vertebrae, raking his claws deep into the wood floor as a fifth limb emerges from where the spine left off, steadily lengthening— fortifying itself with jagged crystalline spikes as it grows ever longer. Its weight is entirely foreign, yet it shifts upon his slightest command. Panic overruling all logic once more, he thrashes about, the tail swinging across the bathroom counter like a whip. His toothbrush, comb, and other various toiletries he hasn't made use of in days clatter to the floor, abandoned.

R u n.

The thought rampages through his shattered soul like an avalanche. Yanks him by the horns. Consumes his mind and body like a trance. He has to escape from here, from the house, the Gems, has to run quick, before it’s too late and you can’t do anything more but wordlessly scream.

He doesn’t stop to question this impulse. Doesn’t stop to peer at that poor tortured creature in the mirror again. For a moment his claws struggle to grasp the crumpled door knob, fumbling in failure’s wake.

When he finally forces the door open, the whole world holds its breath.

Pearl’s eyes blow wide upon the no-doubt horrifying sight. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Steven?!”

Even Amethyst reacts in an adverse manner, stepping back towards the support of the wall. “Holy...” she breathes, face paling.

And just knowing he’s out here now, every gnarled, nightmarish feature exposed in front of his family like a raw nerve, makes his blotchy, spot-covered skin crawl.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’m FINE!” he hollers as he sprints to the warp pad, barbed tail whipping wildly behind him. Pearl yelps in alarm as she only barely dodges its mace-like swing. Unable to hold back his sobs anymore, he collapses to his knees on the hard crystal. Coils his tail around himself by sheer instinct. Hides his face away behind arms. Hot tears spill from his eyes, vision blurring and sharpening in rhythm to the unbearable ache pounding in his head. “I’m fine,” he whispers pathetically, voice catching.

He can practically feel the vibrations through the floor as someone approaches. It’s Garnet. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it can only be her. His breath hastens against his better wishes. Can’t stop, won’t stop, can’t stop... The vision of the temple door begins to pirouette in dizzy circles around him as he arches his back, and with a sharp gasp feels something tear its way through his shirt and jacket right above his spine, all jagged and spiked and— NO! He grinds his jaw together, shrinking further into himself. Not real. It’s not real, not real, not—

“Steven,” she says in a measured tone as he heaves for air. (No, with hesitation. Fear. She’s hesitating because she’s afraid of you, she’s afraid because you’re a monster NO.) “I know you’re hurting, but I need you to take a deep breath with me, and try to calm down. Please, let us help you...”

A heart wrenchingly familiar hand reaches out to him, adorned by a ruby gem and a golden wedding band. His fingers clamp around thick, greasy curls, brushing against the horns protruding from his temples. A keening cry slips out from his mouth against his better wishes. They want to help. They only want to help...

He peeks at her through the crook of his arm, his most likely reddened, blotchy eyes meeting hers. She’s taken off her visor. She’s crying too.

For a glimmer of a second, he considers reaching out. Taking her offered hand with his own clawed one. But then...

Haven’t you been a burden enough already?

His face screws up, and his hands clench into fists.

“NO,” he shouts, slamming them down upon the warp pad. It activates, (blessedly still accessible at this early stage of corruption NO don’t think about it!!), glowing a bright cyan as he envisions where he wants to go: no particular destination in his mind but away, away, away.

After all, he already knows he’s a monster.

So... he might as well become one too.

_____

Notes:

Some days you just gotta have an entire mental breakdown and go full wyrm, y'hear?

HCs I tapped into for this fic:

After being healed, formerly cracked Gems take longer to reform than Gems who were only poofed. Peridot will be okay eventually, she just hasn’t reformed quite yet.

Steven is still able to warp because he hasn’t quite passed the threshold of corruption that prevents a Gem from accessing the warp stream. I imagine it's very much a matter of mental connection, and having the right presence of mind to tap into it. Probably a few minutes after this, if Steven were to continue going downhill and his mind fully fell into the fog of corruption, he’d no longer be able to warp. He got super lucky here.

This potential future blindsided Garnet because previously- like how Steven’s newfound maturity threw her off as discussed in Pool Hopping- she hadn’t factored in the idea of Steven being in such a low mental state. Amethyst was the first to really see past his attempts to mask it because she personally had dealt with depression like this before and knew what it looked like.

Maybe one day after SUF airs I'll write more on this topic, but as for now this will remain a one-shot. I 100% imagine Steven would ultimately be okay in this timeline, though. They'd be able to help him, stop the corruption. Steven goes to heckin' therapy. He'll live on, he'll begin to recover and cope. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Thank you for reading!

[salveticn-a]

-ˏˋ ☆ — THE FINAL DAYS OF AMAUROT

Alright , let’s talk about the Final Days for a moment !

Now , everything I will write here is from my own point of view and not exactly canon . I will quote everything I know and remember from in-game lore , so -- this post will contain 5.0+ spoilers !

Let’s start from the roots . We all know that the Final Days happened because of an indescribable   “ sound ”   from within the star that could be audible to any of its inhabitants . This unknown sound caused many individuals to be afraid and to grow weary and unsettled with each passing day . 

!!   It’s also important to remember that the calamity did not happen suddenly , but it was a progressive thing that developed slowly through natural disasters as primary means that were going to form it : the volcanic eruption that Azem prevented was , indeed , one of them . The Convocation of Fourteen are not obliged to meddle with the course of nature , but they simply observe and study these catastrophes so that they may learn how to defend themselves and the city against them , were they to happen again .   !!

Since this unknown sound terrifies the inhabitants of the star , perhaps those who are closer to its epicenter are more afflicted by it and they completely lose awareness and concentration when it comes to creation magic , so much so that their fear leads them to create horrifying and malformed beasts . This fear spreads and even more individuals begin to create frightening creatures that do nothing but fuel this fear until it gets out of control . Not to mention that these creations are completely born purposeless and ferocious . Archaetania is an example ! It’s created far from Amaurot , in the lands across the ocean .   Also , in case you don’t know / don’t remember what Archaeotania looks like : (x)

Upon knowing of this phenomenon , the best phantomologists of Akademia Anyder are sent to these places to collect at least a specimen so that they could study it from a closer look -- only to then learn that these creatures are , indeed , born from an individual’s fears . Lahabrea is presumably one of those phantomologist ; he wrote the report , after all !

After closer examinations , researchers have started working on finding ways to defend and protect the star and its inhabitants against such creatures by engendering powerful guardians . Lahabrea’s latest creations are , apparently , defensive weapons against these monsters .

However , Archaeotania breaks free of its cage and destroys the cages of the other beasts as well , setting them free and , in a sudden , creating havoc and raising hell . Now , with all these malformed , horrifying beasts roaming free across the streets of Amaurot , attacking its inhabitants and forcing them into panic , every single creation they manifest is but another dreadful creation to add to the collection . And there is no way they can manage to capture these beasts into the Akademia once again because the inhabitants will simply keep on adding them to the count . With this , the three dooms are created : The First Beast , Terminus Bellwether , and Therion .

At some point , the situation gets out of control . The Convocation of Fourteen decides to summon Zodiark to save whatever they could and hope for restoration . Elidibus becomes the Heart of Zodiark and he’s capable of calling Him forth thanks to the inhabitants of the star that decided to give their life away to make his summoning possible , by donating as much aether as was needed . Well , it works … and the malformed beasts are gone , only that those who had summoned him became tempered . The Convocation then decides to sacrifice even more people to restore their ruined world … and that works as well : no more havoc , no more panic , everything is as it should be . The Convocation then decides to restore the lives of those who were originally sacrificed but , in order to do so , Zodiark required much more aether -- and the new lives being born into the world   ( infants , children , teens … )   were chosen as sacrifices . Venat and many other Amaurotines are obviously disturbed by such a choice ; the star is restored and everything is fine … why won’t you just leave it to the hands of the new life born into it ? But the Convocation is determined and they stick with their choice , which forces Venat to take action .

Elidibus , aware of the conflict and feeling as though he has to do something about it , separates himself from Zodiark but remains touched by Him , as in his appearance is different   ( I will design it eventually !! )   ; Zodiark , without a vessel , weakens . In fact , He cannot strike powerful attacks against Hydaelyn , summoned by Venat and her followers , simply because He lacks a heart .

In any case , the Convocation is unable to stop the two primals fighting each other . We all know how it ends .

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 2: 2x21 Patterns of Force

Took a nap after work today!! Perhaps a bad idea.

Anyway, some thoughts on the... awkward Patterns of Force.

Another story about Jim looking for his hero, I see. That never (always) ends badly.

Definitely getting an image of little Spock (teenage Spock? young adult Spock? all little Spocks) reading about Earth history.

Oh no, an armed drone. That does not bode well. Why do Kirk’s heroes always betray him?

A subcutaneous transponder. That seems like a useful device to introduce into the narrative. (Slash remember for future purposes...)

Also it reminds of me “He’s a...a... a transponster!”

Spock in a hat. I guess the Ekosians and/or Zeons don’t have pointed ears, then.

“It’s our old enemy...fascism.”

Well this guy literally was not subtle in his references to Nazi Germany. (I’m referring in universe to what’s-his-face but this also applies to the episode writer.)

“The evidence is clear... someone did interfere.”

“You look quite well for a man who’s been utterly destroyed, Mr. Spock.” This man canNOT stop flirting for one second.

Lol, using Spock to distract the Nazi.

“It’s logical to pretend to be a Nazi? Okay, I’m convinced. You said the magic word.”

“Look! I captured him!” So proud.

Kirk’s face when Spock says he would make a convincing Nazi. Bb, you’re not doing the compliment thing right. (I’ll actually be quite honest... I find the humor in that moment but it also makes me uncomfortable given both these actors are Jewish.)

That said, Kirk is canonically better at blending into undercover scenarios than Spock is. He thinks better on his feet, creatively.

How do these people NOT recognize two whole-ass aliens.

...Maybe they do.

I do like when Kirk is being interrogated and still tries to be charming..

That Nazi really lost a lot of authority after being dressed down by his superior in front of the captives.

I like this Zeon. 

“The flaw in the plan is this locked door.” Thanks Spock. It’s this subtle humor that I think people often miss in him. Like where you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not.

Kirk is so smart!!! He never gets credit for being this smart.

Hmm, taking out the transponders is such a weirdly intimate scene.

The Zeon wants to be included in this adventure so much but they’re obsessed with each other, like “What Zeon?”

“I’ll be your platform, Mr. Spock.”

This is such a weirdly humorous interlude for a story about Nazis. Kind of reminds me in a way of that conversation with the police man on City on the Edge of Forever. I mean that ep was much better but just like the sudden switch in tone.

Spock’s like “Oh, that was cool. Made a laser.”

I heard Kirk say, “You, over there,” as in directing Spock to stand over there, but the subtitles say “Beautiful. Over there.” As in, “we did a beautiful job getting out, now Spock, stand over there.” But combine them...?

Not gonna get a disguise for Spock huh? Just gonna let him be shirtless a little more for no apparent reason.

Poor Zeon. These aliens are inscrutable and not letting him in on anything.

“Alien pistols.”

“Who would win? the entire military force of this planet or two phaser-less space husbands?"

I probably shouldn’t laugh every time Kirk impersonates a Nazi but I do. "Don't mind me... completely believable Nazi here..."

The unsubtle of the Hebrew names. And of course.. .Zeon.

“We’ll be just as bad as the Nazis.” No, actually, you’re not and never will be that’s not how it works. BUT you definitely should help the aliens. Like, that phrase grates because it’s usually used to refer to, like, use of violence, use of “censorship” but here’s it more about turning away people who are different or minority and so then it does make sense but....the connotations.

Spock’s like, “May I... get away from this emotion? Has enough time passed for me to ask that?”

More Nazis! Following them everywhere!

Oh, psych. Not Nazis after all.

Spock’s like “Betraying your own father, you say? I have never thought about that.”

“The Fuhrer... is an alien?” Actual real line AND a correct summation of the situation.

This ep does not paint the Federation in a great light. Although to be fair... John Gill was breaking the rules so.

Documentary corps... I love it. Great disguise. Flash lights in people’s eyes, have an excuse to stay in a group, no on looks at you. Genius.

Spock is honestly so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about EVERYTHING. He cannot be tamed. Again, really an aspect of him I miss in the reboots.

Kirk really is the captain of everyone in his vicinity.

“Think positively, Spock.”

Uhura is unflappable. “A Nazi Colonel’s uniform? Of course, Captain.”

Send him down naked if you have to!! Yes, please, send him down naked.

Spock giving McCoy detailed instructions on how to put on boots... Why was dialogue like this not in the reboots?

McCoy is so polite. Polite first, confused later. “Nice to meet you, Nazi--wait, Nazi???”

I love how McCoy immediately put on his drunk face and Spock was like, "An opportunity to insult McCoy?? Awesome.”

So I assumed the Chairman was either dumb or didn’t recognize them with their shirts on but apparently he was yet another mole, so. At least it’s not a plot hole.

“The speech has no discernible pattern or logic.” Hmmm, I wonder what it feels like to have a leader who speaks with no discernible pattern or logic?

Guys. Pals. Awful people. Did he really give orders, or did he just say random shit? People will flock to anything. I'll be honest, I actually think this is one of the subtler and better parts of this episode: how chilling it is to contemplate how people will rally around any non-speech that has the right tone and a few key words. This is garbage language. But it incites people to kill.

McCoy and his stimulants again.

Spock and his mind probing again.

Wow Spock really messed with his mind there. “He can answer questions but not otherwise speak?” What kind of crazy shit is that?

They are being so mean to Spock. “Malformed ears.” “Low forehead.” That’s not a low forehead, that’s bangs.

Nice triumivirate scene at the end. Feels good, feels organic. Kirk likes to hear his two BFFs bickering because it feels like all is right with the universe, and I agree. Nature is healing.

This episode has a very weird (and very hard to swallow imo) backstory. Like, who primarily associates the Nazis with efficiency? And even if you do, if you think there’s something to the way they put together the country so fast post-WWI, all of this “efficiency” is directly tied to hatred and violence. Like Isak said, the Ekosians have nothing to hold them together BUT hating Zeons. That's at the center of the design. It's not like Gill’s plan backfired it was just... a horrible plan?? It doesn’t even make sense to me that his “effective regime” was co-opted by one hateful person because what was at the center of the “Nazi” regime before the hatred of Zeons? What could it have been? There are no other alternatives provided. Also, even if it could have been somehow accomplished without the use of a scapegoat.. is fascism really an ideal? Like the story never reckoned with that concept at all, which I find disturbing.

Here’s the thing about Gill. He is a certain real type and I appreciate his inclusion up to a point. He’s the Naive, Hubristic Intellectual. He thinks because he’s studied something, academically, he knows more about it even than people who experienced it, and he can fix all of its problems. “I can do this, but better. I am so smart, I am so well-informed, I have no flaws.” I can even see this sort of person being someone a young Kirk would admire because there’s an optimism and idealism to this naivete. I don’t think Kirk is arrogant but he is very idealistic, and when he was a young man, still in the market for heroes, or at least idols or mentors? Yeah, someone with that kind of attitude toward life--that we can deeply understand and then improve upon history--would have appealed to him. It’s possible that Gill even was the “compassionate, gentle” person that Kirk thought, or that he had that side to him.

Where I think the episode erred is in absolving Gill of most of his guilt for this state of affairs. He does die and he does admit he was wrong, but his biggest sin is allegedly in introducing a regime that could be co-opted for evil rather than one that was inherently bad. He is literally drugged (tortured in a way), to emphasize just how non-culpable the narrative thinks he is. Also, while he does apologize for interfering at all, even this is fairly brief and not expanded upon in the rest of the narrative. The truth is he shouldn’t have interfered in general, because that’s not his place or his right, and he shouldn’t have interfered in this way specifically. Even if Malakon hadn’t risen and taken over, the ideal Gil was imposing was one of unthinking uniformity, lack of autonomy, worship of a leader over the rule law--these are not the values of the Federation, the show Star Trek, or me. But he’s used more as a device to explain why the show is so unsubtly Nazi, rather than a real villain or object lesson. Even though Gill is a much better object lesson than Malakon.

And what about Malakon? The ending presents him, literally and in so many words, as the “one evil man” responsible for all of this. I think we know both from studying history and, unfortunately, from our own times, that this is untrue because impossible. One evil person is just a lunatic ranting on the street corner. One evil leader became leader because others agreed and gave him power, or agreed in part, or made a deal with the devil, or disagreed but said nothing, or spoke but were overwhelmed. It’s a disservice to the subject matter to say that dictatorships or authoritarian regimes are that simple. I get that the episode is only 50 minutes and it needs to wrap up, and it’s simpler to say “Okay, killed the Villain, now we can go back to being Not Evil, all the Ekosians will be as happy as the Zeons because we never really wanted this.” But Hitler and his henchmen weren’t the only Nazis. Regular people--and in this context, regular Ekosians--weren’t Nazis too.

Overall, the episode was okay. Very awkward though. Very blunt. I think it would have been better off not using the Nazi symbology so literally. Like the idea that a human would come into a society and purposefully create something from our history is interesting (and “what if Earth but alien?” is certainly something TOS likes doing and finds various ways to do--like the gangsters in A Piece of the Action or Neo-Rome in Bread and Circuses or even literal Greek Gods in Who Mourns for Adonais?) but not worth it given which society was being emulated. It seemed to be too much an excuse to dig out the old WWII movie costumes (and put Jewish actors in Nazi regalia which... is very... distressing) and not so much an excuse for some kind of commentary along the lines of what I said above re: the hubris of historians, the hubris of time. That aspect leaves a bad taste. It had some good ideas but I think, again, it was hindered rather than helped by how literal it insisted (for some reason) on being. Compare it to A Private Little War, which was just about as obvious a Vietnam allegory as you can get, and yet still didn’t literally transport anyone to Vietnam, and this ep looks all the more clunky. I’m probably judging it more harshly than I have on previous viewings, but I really feel like... you can use sci fi to make a commentary on the rise of authoritarianism, but the delicacy of the subject matter requires you to be particularly thoughtful in the way you do it and the actual statements you’re making.

Anyway, the Enterprise Defeats Nazis is a good episode summary at least.

I think in my last attempt at a whole rewatch I stopped at around this point. I seem to have watched the next two episodes, according to Amazon, but I have a weird feeling I only watched one, the next one, By Any Other Name, and then stopped. I don’t remember either of them so we’ll see how that goes! Will they seem familiar or not?

[lost-eternity]

Match Up Requests: CLOSED Please read the pinned rules before requesting

Match up for: @ happythoughtfulstarfish

Okie dokie. I match you with...

Peter Parker/Spider man!

First of all, girl, you're very pretty :). Just thought that I would say that. Right. On to the match up.

Like, from appearances alone. You two would compliment each other so well. 🥰

With heels on, you'd most likely be taller than Peter Parker. 

Like. How dare you! He would do his best to one up you.

You occasionally catch him standing on his toes to try and match your height. And you look over at him like "???"

Cue mumbled excuses and awkward laughing

Then one day your heels go missing. And as you're looking around, you notice Peter is standing surprisingly tall. Upon further investigation you notice that he put on your heels. 

Would this guy actually steal your own heels just to one up you? He'll, yeah he would. It's all in fun and games though and he isn't too serious about it. 

But personality wise? Even better.

You are both serious nerds

It's not technically official but I head-canon that Peter Parker is a theatre nerd as well. I could just be Tom Holland seeping through but he gives off those theatre kid vibes.

You know how I mean.

He'd be wholly supportive of your hobbies. He would love to go and spontaneously buy random tickets to musicals on Broadway, even if you two don't get the best of seats. 

Just be prepared to watch a lot of cult classics with him.

Like. A lot.

Especially Star Wars. You two will watch those movies so many times. And every single time he will be dramatically (poorly) mouthing the lines along with the film because let's be real- he has all of the movie scripts memorized. 

He would also love to learn how to play an instrument from you. He'd be really bad at it. Honestly, he would be playing horrendously with this puppy-like jubilation that makes up entirely for his horrible pitch. It's adorable, really. 

Your morals also align perfectly and that works out very well because the both of you are incredibly stubborn and steadfast in your resolve. You both strive to see the best in people, even if it puts you in jeopardy. Critics would call it gullibility. But you would be able to keep each other in check.

Sometimes.

You would be a massive headache for those in SHIELD or anyone assigned to manage you.

I can imagine Peter roping you into one of his elaborate schemes after getting hyped on caffeine and the two of you raising hell together. With the best of intentions, of course.

Like, "no. You cannot kidnap an ice cream truck and drive it to the orphanage for the kids. That is called theft and that's illegal."

"I don't care if it will make the children happy!"

You both have an incredible drive to help others. Peter's just manifests in a way that is a lot more... potentially lethal. Whereas you are content enough to simply volunteer your time. 

Just. Don't ask to go with him on one of his super hero missions.

Trust me.

Peter has already lost people in his life. The poor boy would never forgive himself if he lost you as a result of his ineptitude on a mission. 

Don't put him through that

Because he is awkward as well, you two would do very well to motivate each other and encourage one another to step outside of your comfort zones.

Meet to new, make new friends

Honestly, you’d be perfect together

~

You probably met Peter's sophomore year of College.

It's a funny story actually. 

You volunteered with a charity service who was hosting a musical, "The Adams Family" The ticket revenue collected during the performances would be put to relief and conservation efforts in foreign countries.

Everything was extremely low budget. All of the cast members were volunteers and very few actually had much theatrical experience. 

But you did not mind too much. You were cast to play the role of Morticia. So no complaints there!

The venue you were performing in was actually lent to you for free. It was on a college campus, and the auditorium was actually decently sized.

The previous performances went off rather smoothly. The turn-outs had been decent as well, thankfully.  

It was closing night. Your final performance for the night. The audience was slowly filling into the room, that was when it happened.

One of the crewmembers on hair and makeup, completely new to the theatre environment actually asked out loud: "Wait, why can't we say 'Macbeth' again?"

Silence 

Dead Silence 

So quiet that the muted chatter of the audience could be heard from behind the heavy oaken doors of the female changing room.

The shit storm that followed would have been absolutely hysterical if everyone were not so panicked.

Those in the cast who actually had experience in theatre arts were whisper-shouting at the offending crewmember.

The others looked on, an expression of complete confusion plastered onto their brow

It's not like you could have sent her out to run around the entire college campus. You were on in 5.

Collectively,  you all decided to let it go.

It was just a legend after all.

"We'll be fine."

At least, that is what everyone told themselves. 

~

The night, surprisingly, went off without a hitch. There were a few technical difficulties with the lighting (the spotlight "affectionately" named Big Bertha refused to fully open its iris) and a few missed cues, but otherwise, the performance did not terribly fail as many feared. 

~

You and the rest of the cast were now hurriedly darting back from the bathrooms after intermission. It was a frenzied sprint around the back of the building to avoid the audience catching a glimpse of you. 

That was when you heard something that caused you to peel off the rest of the group.

It was this peculiar scuttling sound, followed by a darting figure.

You initially thought it was an audience member who had lost their way and turned down the winding path.

The narrow road itself was completely innocuous and actually just led to a dorm site. However, under the dark of the new moon, illuminated by few stray streetlamps, it felt kinda ominous. 

Having to remind yourself that you weren't actually in a horror movie, you continued down the path towards the figure, asking him if he were all right.

Then he stepped into the flood of light from a lamp, his movements kinda janky and angled.

This "person" was not a person at all. Rather it was a humanoid beast covered completely in rippling grey fur. Like 'Cousin It' jumped right out of the play and appeared on the street. But this wasn't your cousin. You knew the little girl who played him and she was much... much shorter. This thing cleared 213 centimetres! 

You wisely decided to run. 

And it gave chase, scuttling after you like some malformed beast.

So here you were, still in complete costume, being chased down the street but a Cousin It lookalike and screaming your lungs out.

You didn't get really far because Morticia's sprawling mermaid dress did little to help you move your legs. 

Cousin It caught up to you, a clawed appendage swiping against your ankles.

With a loud rip the dress tore and you fell. Pain flared through your elbows made contact with the grated pavement. 

Rolling onto your back,  you gazed up at the creature. Its purple fur glowing dimly under the backlighting of the street lamp.

For the first time you noticed its eyes, multiple gleaming plates meshed together to form one bulging eyeball,  like a fly or moth. Its mangy hair, overgrown and matted, reeked with a permeating stench you can only describe as rotting eggs. 

So maybe you were in a horror movie. And the horror movie was 'Mothman'... or maybe the curse of Macbeth was here and this creature was coming from retribution.  

Regardless of the reason, you did not have too long to think about it as the creature took a lumbering step towards you.  Then another... and a third... then it paused. 

It pulled against something, like a dog heaving against its leash. But it couldn't move another step 

"Stay where you are, Mothra." A trilling voice called. 

Blinking, you noticed a figure perching on the top of the lamp post, hanging upside down from a glistening web. Another web was attached around the creature's waist, preventing it from advancing. 

The blue and red was unmistakable. 

This was spider man! 

But why is he here? 

Cousin it gave a roar of complaint and swiped for the spider. He nimbly dodged out of the way, laughing the entire time. 

It was not long before he had Cousin It wrapped up in a thick cocoon of webbing, and was absently dialing something on his phone. 

You heard him mumble something about how much of a nuisance "A-Chiltarians" were. 

A-Chiltarians?

What was that supposed to be?

Spiderman seemed to notice you for the first time, and apologetically offered to escort you back to the play.

Which was practically ruined as intermission was over and no one seemed to be able to locate you

The audience was beginning to get antsy

To make up for lost time, Spider man grabbed you round your waist

Before you knew it, the two of you were flying 

Swinging from tree to lamp as you glided across the ground back towards the theatre. 

He dropped you off, literally dropped you, onto the stage, just in time for your next scene. 

You could hardly act through the confusion of WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED TO ME

The rest of the night, you were understandably preoccupied 

~

After the performance, the cast stood along the hallway, allowing the audience to meet and greet with them and pass out gifts.

A young man garnered your attention in particular 

With hazel eyes and mousy hair, he introduced himself as "Peter" and handed you a bouquet of flowers

And you find yourself looking at him like "Do I know you?"

He seemed rather apologetic for whatever reason and praised your performance 

Getting suspicious, especially after the events of that night, you had a feeling that he knew something he was not letting on to.

So you asked for his number.

And to your complete shock, he actually gave it

So. Over the course of one night, you were saved by the legendary spider man and got the number of a cute boy.

Maybe the curse of Macbeth is not so bad after all

[vanimeldes]

Hey, sorry if this question is bothering you, but can you explain why you don't like Sansa and what makes you have this opinion on her? Hope I'm not sounding like I'm attacking you and I get why you'd choose to ignore this question, but I am curious to know your opinion. Have a nice day and sorry again if I bothered you with this question.

Hey. At first I wanted to just ignore the question, because I tend to keep some of my opinions far from this blog. Then I wanted to suggest you to check my main blog, @marta-elentari , but my main blog is *dark and full of dumb shitposts*, and you asked me too nicely.

So I decided to answer here, since, after all, Tumblr is meant to be a safe space for every opinion who isn't harmful or offensive to other people. So I'll try to articulate my own personal opinion as objective and civil as I could.

So, regarding Sansa, I would lie if I would tell that the fandom didn't have a say in my perception to her, but truth to be told, I read the books long before I started to interact with the fandom and I can't say that my opinions changed as radically as I thought.

I was totally unimpressed with Sansa since her first chapter and she didn't grow on me for various reasons:

I have never been a tomboyish girl myself, I like most of the things girls like Sansa likes such as clothes and boys but I really dislike talking about these things all day long as if these are the most important thing in my life. Even in ASOS, after all she's been through, when LF builds her new identify as Alayne Stone, she still asks him if her father can be a valiant knight who died in God knows what war, and I was like ?????? After how those very knights beated her repeatedly because Joffrey told them so, she still dreams of valiant knights, and this random thought came to me more than shallow, given that, by that time, Sansa had beem through some stuff. Also, this is a personal preference, but when I want to read fantasy, I want to read about girls who, yes, kick asses and discover magic and build kingdoms or even normal, ordinary and human girls that achieve this sort of epic-fantasy greatness such as Eowyn or a sort of epic-fantasy greatness that don't involve swords, because this is possible too; I don't want to read about the same damsel in distress that I found so often in the non-fiction romance books. Neither I am saying that Sansa is a damsel, just that I percieve her as such.

I personally acknowledge her strength, I kbow I would have never been able to live with the people who killed my father, I admit she is observant and receptive; but, in the same time, I was always under the impression that she survived mostly because she was a valuable hostage. If she wasn't, she most likely would have faced the same fate as poor Jeyne Poole. But she survived in KL with her own weapons, namely the "courtesy" that she wears like an armour. Does it make me like her more? No. Not because I am a dumb mysoginist and despise everything feminine and I consider "strong female character" a woman who acts like a man and kicks asses, but because she is not the type of female character that I would root for. These were my opinion before I interacted with her fandom.

And then, her fandom happened. I am sorry for those few Sansa fans with whom I interacted and who are truly amazing people that really thought me to see things in a new light, but 95% of her stans think and act like this: if you don't like her and criticize this, you are a dumb misogyinist who doesn't understand her character, seemingly unable to understand that just because a female character is a delicate feminine girl, it doesn't mean that she doesn't have to be criticized, when critique has nothing to do with her being a girl and being a feminine girl. Casual readers note how she has a part in Ned's death and bullied Arya. Tell this to a stan and get ready for a hate tsunami, because their Sansa can do no wrong. But she can!!! It's in the books!!!!

To deny that she bullied Arya seems like you deny the mere definition of bullying. And as someone with a brother, this sort of behaviour coming from a sister is something I can't tolerate. When she told Arya that she should have been killed instead of Lady, my jaw dropped, and I wasn't impressed in a good way.

Tell them she doesn't look down at smallfolk, another thing I can't tolerate. Speaking of which, I don't dislike her because she is pretty and comes from a privileged backround. I don't dislike a female character because she is pretty and acknowledged as such. My parents aren't the wealthiest people, But they managed to offer me and my brother what we needed and I never lacked anything. I also consider myself pretty and I was told multiple times that I was pretty. Being pretty doesn't make me and shouldn't make me and anyone dislike a character. But it turns me off when being pretty is the only quality through which you managed to go on. And I always was under the impression that The Hound and LF wouldn't have saved her from shit if they hadn't had a creepy crush on her. Yes, LF uses her from his own interest blah blah blah but if You're telling me that he would have been just as interested in her, if she hadn't been pretty and looked like Catelyn, you're not convincing me. At all. Because it's not true.

And as for Ned, no one says that she is the only one responsible for his death, but to deny her involvement is to deny the canon:

Heck, the author himself explained her part in Ned's death:

And while she wasn't completely aware of the implications, her intent was pretty clear, and I was just appalled because even if I was 12, if my father told me that we have to go in secrecy and that our lives depend on it and I must keep my mouth shut, I would never betray his trust. I would know he only wanted what's best for me. I would never sell him.

She looks down at smallfolk and bastards.

She only truly thinks of Jon when she herself is forced to pose as a bastard:

Jon raised alongside her, yet she still regards her "only her half brother".

And, on top of that, She is willing to be accomplice to the poisoning of a little boy!!!!!!

And her stans are bullies. Some of them dared to talk shit about Emilia Clarke herself, calling her responsible for convincing them to make J0nerys happen and she was the culprit all along for Jon and show's treatment of Sansa?????? Ok, let's assume that Emilia had some influence over David and Daniel. Wouldn't you think it would have made more sense if she had tried to convince them NOT TO KILL OFF HER CHARACTER?????????? Just saying.

But they are so willing to twist the other characters (mostly Daenerys, but not only), just to prove that Sansa is the only valid and worthy character in this series. They were hoping for Daenerys to MISCARRY HER BABY AND DIE OR GIVE BIRTH TO A (ACTUAL QUOTE) "MALFORMED INCEST-BORN LIZARD BABY" AND DIE OR KILLED BY JON (which happened) but still......is this ok?? Is ok to wish this for a woman? Is miscarriage or a malformed baby and death in childbirth ok as ling as this put your fave in a good light?

Again, I admit that book!Sansa is not dumb or a weakling, as some people used to claim, but she's not my type of character. She has many moments when she is shallow and vain, and straight-up cruel.

But it wasn't just about Daenerys, really. I saw a lot of ugly things these people wrote about Arya just to bring Sansa up. They wanted Bran, a little boy, to die, so that Sansa become Lady of Winterfell.

Other stans cheered for Missandei's death because she DARED TO CRITICIZE SANSA, not giving a fuck that Missandei's death was just the most racist thing D&D ever did?

And then there's *that* part of the fandom, who goes to such lengths that they distort canon and the other characters just to show that Sansa is and has been the main character all along and she is the only one who suffered and she is so young but she deserves everything. Last time I checked, Jon was 15-16, so was Dany, Arya was 10-11, Bran was 8-9. They act, however, like Sansa is the only one who is young and who suffered in this series, a statements which is, in the context of a series like A Song of Ice and Fire, just - and I won't apologize for the word - dumb.

And then there were my own experiences.

A couple of months ago, I posted a fanart with Jon and Dany because I am confident Jonerys will happen in the books and it was forshadowed. This is the fanart, if you are interested:

Three stans DM me; telling me that this pic was ugly....not because it was some form of constructive criticism (which I am always open to), but because I painted Daenerys and not Sansa.

Other artists who did some Jonerys fanarts told how a Stan took her fanarts, changed Dany's hair from blonde to red, to make her Sansa. This is ART THEFT. This is the majority Sansa stans that I had the "pleasure" to interact or know about. With these sort of stans, It's really hard for me to find a reason why I should like a character.

It's long, I know. There are my reasons and hope I answered your questions.

As for the rest of you who'll see this post, I would kindly ask you to notice that this is my opinion. This is what I think and I'm not shading anyone here (apart those stans whom I interacted and were an unpleasant occurrence). Hate messages won't make me change my opinion.