#its like offscreen comfort?

[running-with-kn1ves]

hii! i wanted to ask if you could do a yandere kidnapper x yandere darling? like rich depressed yan that can't imagine living without their darling and ended up taking drastic action, only to find out that darling is way more insane and obsessed passionate than they thought

A/N: I've never been super big on the yan x yan trope but I think this came out kinda cool! Hope this is what you were looking for <3

Synopsis: Sneaking into your beloved's bedroom bent on getting pictures for your stash, you're quickly found by him, who's surprisingly enthusiastic to find you breaking in.

CW: Kidnapping, mutual obsession, shrine dedications, murder (offscreen lol)

WC:3000+

“Nice… new pics for the blog.” 

Your camera click click clicked with a shutter noise each time you rapid fired its capture button, eye so close to the screen you might as well be looking through the viewfinder solely itself. 

“I can see it now… his unkept bedroom revealed, beautiful little face plastered beside this… heap.” 

You looked at the pile of dirty clothes that had yet to be picked up by the estate's cleaning ladies. Well, if you were as filthy rich as he was, you’d probably do the same. Who would waste time cleaning their room when you have the whole world to see? Or in his case, a million press conferences to attend. 

Your eye was drawn to a slightly ajar closet, an odd lock seeming to have been hastily unfastened, now leaving the doors peeking open. Something red was inside. Oh boy, you could hardly contain your excitement. 

What kind of secrets would the famous, wealthy heir Elijah Walsh have in his teensy private closet? Mayhaps some drag dress up that no fan would expect? Dead bodies? Or even, the rumored cocaine stash his poor daddy was accused of hiding? 

You knew Elijah like the back of your hand, unable to imagine any kind of hidden truths that you haven't already discovered. For you, a superfan, (and ultimately, the soulmate he doesn't know about yet) were aware of far more than the average tabloid who didn’t cross trespassing boundaries for love like you had. 

You ripped open the doors without hesitation, snapping pics before even turning the light on. 

But what you saw, was something you weren’t sure you’d want to keep on camera. 

It was you. Well, a picture of you, from some yearbook or singled-out group shot that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact year from. Around your awkward grinning face was a series of items, pinned on a pretty red board like it was a crime scene of sorts. Or maybe… a shrine?

“What the f… is that my underwear??” You looked at the old pair of stretched out undies you had since middle school. Definitely not the pair you’d want some kind of stalker or investigator to get their hands on. 

You saw a few old chapsticks taped to the board, one of which you had been searching for in some old bag you swore you left it in. “I was looking for those!” You grabbed the chapstick and a broken brush, the exact same you thought you had thrown away months ago. 

Out of all the things you hoped to find-- used Q-tips, one of his musky jackets, maybe even some dark sex toys-- this wasn’t on your list. But you couldn’t help the spike in your heart, the flutter that made your toes point inward. 

You had been running this journalist (really a stalker-ish) blog on Elijah since before he got big in the press. You went to the same elementary school and for a short time in middle school, and ever since you couldn’t get his name out of your head. Now, you had a justified reason to keep tabs on him, since his family was currently in the public eye for a variety of deeds. 

Along with professing your obsession with him since childhood, your blog dated the shocking events of his controversies--  keeping it all under an anonymous pen name, of course. You had information news sites couldn’t get their hands on; the dedication you put into watching him was a trait of pride you could never let go. 

Memories of him comforted you at night, and seeing his pretty face in the grocery store magazines hoarded under your bed made you drift off to daydream land where, maybe, you’d be more than just some heavy breathing keyboard jammer fawning over him from a distance.. 

And here was, you. Your things. In his room. Even from the times you climbed the tree beside his window, you never saw this… anomaly of items. 

“What’s this even… mean.” You whispered, dumfounded and growing antsy. Elijah would be coming back now any second, the route of his driver dinging on your phone. 

‘Wait.. does he, know? That I’ve been watching him? Is this all evidence to… incriminate me??’

Worry was creeping up inside of you. But there was no time, not when a heavy vase clunked against your head from behind, letting out a resounding ‘crack!’ from the contact. The chapstick fell from your fingers, camera sliding with you as it lingered loose around your neck. 

The last thing you could think of before darkness hit, was ‘man, I hope I don’t fall on my camera… can’t replace it again. ‘

The unconscious darkness blinding your eyes was snuffed out what seemed hours later, replaced by a buzzing yellow light hanging from the ceiling. You groaned outloud, feeling groggy; an aching pain throbbed in your slumped neck and a sore bump on your scalp. 

‘Got a killer headache…’ 

You tried to pull your hands up to the bump to feel for a bruise, but fell flat with your arms tucked behind your back. You jerked them around, not realizing that they in fact were stuck together-- tied by rope, or some kind of fabric. 

“Thank god, you’re awake. Thought maybe I hit you too hard-- I don’t know what i’d do if that happened.” A familiar voice rang out in the musty, echoing room. 

“What…?” You croaked, trying to look up without facing the wrath of your headache the more light entered your eyes.

“Here, drink some water.” 

A bottle came in front of you, so close to your lips all you had to do was bend down to touch it. You did so without thinking, tasting the sandpaper of a tongue you were stuck with. As soon as the cool water touched your throat, you thought about potential poisoning. Who was this person bottle-feeding you water, why couldn’t you do it yourself?? 

You were too thirsty to care about the consequences, gulping it down as the bottle lifted higher to accommodate you. 

Letting out a pant, you sat back, trying to rub water off your lip with a shoulder shimmy. 

“Where am I? What’s going on--” It all started to come back to you, being in Elijah’s room, trespassing on private property, seeing the closet hoard of you. “Wait, please don’t report me, I promise it isn’t what you think it was…”

“Report you?” The masculine tone scoffed, a hand falling to your shoulder. “I was worried I’d never get a chance like this… you made it so easy, how’d you get in? The window?”

“...Yeah.” You sheepishly replied, looking up at your captor. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Oh shit. That was Elijah right in front of you. In the flesh, pretty pearly teeth grinning only inches away from your face as his hand rested on your left shoulder, gently massaging it.

“Is your head okay? I feel bad but.. I wasn’t thinking, could only think about how to keep you here.”

Keep you here? Oh no, does that mean the police are on their way??

“Now.. I don’t have to worry about sending people out to your apartment anymore.. No more security cameras, no more blackmail… just you.” He stroked the side of your cheek that was inflamed from falling against the floor. “Damn. I thought i’d have to go through the trouble of taking you in the middle of the night, I had just sent my driver out for my tools too- but, looks like that’s not even an issue anymore!”

Well, sounds like your fears about the cops was no where near the truth. But now, you were even more confused. Taking you? Stalking? Blackmail? It almost felt like you were listening to yourself talk for a second. 

Behind the dark glare covering his eyes, you could see Elijah’s trademark dimples, his pinkish lips covering the slight overbite he had, constantly showing off his front few teeth. You knew those downturned eyes were there somewhere, even with their shine dulled by the shadows of what looked to be a dark cellar around you. 

His hair was unkempt, thick, dark strands covering his ears and going so far to the base of his neck. Wow, you had never seen him look so scruffy, even when watching from outside, seeing him brush his teeth in shirtless pajamas. He looked worried, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“And I’m sorry to say.. But don’t even think about trying to run away now. I made up my mind long ago, and if I find out that--”

“Urk, I wasn’t planning on it. I saw, the uh, dedication board. Or, shrine?”

At that, Elijah stopped. His baby blue eyes went wide for a moment, forgetting that was where he originally found you until now. 

You hid your head down in discomfort.  

“I have the same one…of you, in my apartment… in a box under my bed. There’s even a piece of hair from middleschool that I c..ut, from you.” You held back a nauseous gag at the admission. But here you were, this was your chance to prove how much you loved him, how much dedication you put towards understanding his every move, every like and dislike, the intricacies of his family history. “Do you know why I was in your room?” You asked, wondering if he already had seen your worship blog. 

Elijah took a step back, lowering to sit on a pulled out fold-up chair across from you. His knees touched yours, still dressed in his black slacks and matching loafers, rolled up sleeves on his cream-colored button up that showed he had taken liberties to get more comfortable for the night. 

“I’ll be honest I hadn’t contemplated that… just about how perfect of a chance it was, that you-- my uh, small, obsession since fifth grade.. Was here.” He looked down, a small red tint creeping from his cheeks to the rest of his face. He was bright crimson, like a kid again confessing to his crush behind the bleachers. “But you remember me?? From so long ago? I can’t… Its hard to imagine, i’ve been watching you for years and thought you had completely forgotten about me.”

“Are you kidding?” You watched Elijah rub his eyes, trying to hide his face behind his knuckles. “You’re all over the news, even if I wanted to avoid you. But I haven’t stopped following your every move since, I can’t remember. Every house change, new school, shopping trip with your mother… anytime I was free I dedicated it to watching you, or my--”

You cut yourself off, stepping one foot off into the deep end on a subject you desperately wanted kept hidden. 

“If I knew any better I’d say you sound like a bit of a stalker.” Elijah tried to hide his grin behind his hand, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. “What were you going to say?”

“My…blog.” 

“Blog?” He parroted. 

“It’s a…. Dedication blog. To you.”

“Oh, like an obsessed fan?” He jeered, laughing with bright teeth as he braced his shaking from on his knee.  “Don’t tell me-- you snuck in here for content to your blog?”

“No-! Well, yes. But some of it was going in my private stash…” You pouted, knowing you’d never get that chance again now that you’ve been discovered. Your days of fawning were going to come to a close. 

“So you must be the one who keeps finding a way to get pictures when I never see any reporters around. By, breaking into my home.” 

“That sounds really bad.. But I promise I wasn’t going to try to steal, or hurt you!”

That only made him laugh harder.

“I can’t… can’t believe I never saw you..” He wheezed, face flushed as you sat rotting in embarrassment and shame. “I had drivers chase after you for hours when you disappeared-- but you were five steps behind me the entire time!”

Drivers… your brain clicked two and two together as he tried to stop from giggling while hunched over. 

“...Drivers?” You question. No way this is what yout thought it was.”So you’ve been spying on me?”

“Don’t sound so offended, little stalker,” He settled down, a permanent smile still on his mouth as he dragged the steel chair somehow closer. “ You’ve been hard to catch, but i’ve been keeping tabs on you, as unseemingly as it is. I couldn’t do it myself but I wanted to make sure you were, okay. Before it was safe to bring you home. Though I had nothing to fear about you forgetting me at all!”

You swallowed, mouth having gone back to a dry desert as you contemplated what this all meant. YOUR Elijah was spying on you in your home? Sending out underlings to watch and make sure you were safe? The man who you’d lay your life down for? You fantasized, imagining him at your window, you-- freshly out of the shower…

“What do you mean by home? You don’t mean.. Here, in the estate, right?”

Elijah observed you so fully, it made you nervous. He had never given someone this much attention in interviews, nonetheless in the photos and videos you managed to snap of him alone. And he was looking at you, with those eyes. 

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Smelling his sandalwood with his knees pressing against yours, his finely ironed shirt toned against him-- right here, in the flesh. You always thought you’d be at a distance, never able to come in contact with him.. And now, you were tied up in his family’s wine cellar. 

“Of course my darling. Where else? I can’t possibly send you back to that dungeon of an apartment. And you,” He stood, intent on coming closer. “Came in so willingly, huh? Didn’t think you’d return my love so… earnestly.”

“W-well who said anything about staying?” You sputtered, looking at his eyes glower in an exceedingly dark fashion. “I mean…. You love me? I’d accepted I’d never be seen by you but… you’ve been watching, the entire time?”

He stood up from his chair with a slight creak, causing your neck to strain upwards to look at him. A small touch caressed the end of your chin, his finger smoothening as it lifted your head to meet his gaze. 

He hummed, Elijah’s eyes full of an expression you’ve never seen him wear before. Something in the mix of a sentimental possession, and a lover. But it was so tender, you couldn’t look away. It was so safe, so familiar. You recognized that look in the mirror, visible in your own eyes when you planted kisses on his printed photo taped to your vanity. 

“Haven’t been able to keep you off my mind since you plucked that leaf off of my spoiled head. Love doesn’t even begin to describe it. I need, you.” 

His gaze was so genuine, your eyes soothed by the glazed over grin he gave you, leaning down to hunch on his knees to be closer to you. 

“I…” You breathed, wondering if this was a dream. “I’ve wanted you to see me.. for so long. Is this real?” 

You stopped working. There was no chance that he had been watching you, wondering and waiting for you to recognize him, when you were longing for his attention, having convinced yourself long ago you’d only be able to possess him from a distance. 

Soft fingers that hadn’t worked a day in their lives creeped up your knees, Elijah’s face only inches away as his eyelids lowed, looking sultry as he watched you squirm. 

“I pray it’s not.” He exhaled. 

“...Well, I’m not staying tied up in this chair, no matter how much you beg. Though… I can’t say I’d mind staying with you. Being with you.. Here, together.”

“Good. It wasn’t really a matter of choice, anyway.” He grinned, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek. 

You involuntarily hummed in content, pressing closer to his lips as you arched out of the chair, longing to touch his warm body. He was kissing you; somebody get you out of these ropes before you jump the man. 

Elijah couldn’t help but grin like a maniac, drugged on the way you relished his touch and pressed your chest forward to him. He rushed kisses to your chin, bites to your ear and licks to your neck with a groan. 

But a sudden stop brought your blissfully closed eyes to an open. 

“I’m sorry… want you too much, it’s getting to the better of me.”

“I’m not sorry,” You mumble, hoping that if this was a dream, you wouldn’t ever wake up. “Please, don’t stop.. I’ve killed for this, don’t stop now.”

“You tempt me too much,” He chuckles, gripping the sides of your chair seat to stablize himself leering over you. “So lucky you were my little creepy stalker, and no one else’s. Wouldn’t be able to control myself otherwise.”

“Stalker, murderer of your old lovers… I have many names.” You joked, but the bitterness on your tongue remembering those placeholders you got rid of was sour. 

“Many talents, too.” Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the one that caused my fiances to dissapear? I wondered how they kept doing that,” He looked keenly, seeing right through your little ‘joke’. “Even I couldn’t shoo my mothers’ arranged partners away.”

You tried to look away, embarrassment showing on the way you bit your lips clean and your heartbeat wrapped. “I did it in your name….  I couldn’t stand them thinking they were worth being so close and casual with you! It was infuriating every time I saw it I-- I just  couldn’t take it anymore. Even if it meant I’d never have you.” 

Elijah buried himself in your hair, holding you tight. The squeeze was so personable, hungry and desperate to hold all of you.

 “You have me now, you have me completely. I want you-- what a favor you have done, and you hadn’t even known.”

It felt so good, praised for such hard and hateful work you carried out. Their bodies were mangled, your rage manifesting in the corpses buried under the old golf course near your dingy apartment complex-- and he was happy you did it. Oh, you wanted to hold him, to smell him fully. These binds were stopping you from caressing the lover, the dream you had fantasized holding you to sleep so often, spooning the jackets and dresshirts of his musk in replacement for comfort. 

Elijah still snickered in your ear, playing with the tips of your hair.

“But now, I have to see this blog. I’m too curious-- though I can’t say seeing it will help my small obsession for you. A stalking blog-- too cute.”

You were still so shameful of it, now that he brought it up. You didn’t want your soulmate to see the virtual shrine you had dedicated to him, your unseemly thoughts and hungry urges that were far too detailed and graphic to be shared with their perpetrator. But what choice did you have? He’d find it, one way or another. 

“F..fine. But you’d you atleast untie me now? My arms are getting sore.”

That seemed to cease his light-hearted expression, frowning against your skull as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. It was the same as he remembered, now a decade later. 

“You’re not gonna try to leave, are you?” He murmured, caressing pinching your ear with a light tone. But something dangerous was held behind it. It was frightening.. But oh, as if the possessiveness didn’t fuel how much more your insides craved him. 

“Do you think I’d really try to go anywhere? Not when you’re so accessible to me now.” You looked over. Elijah’s lashes looked so long up close, sweetly deadpanned eyes watching as if you were being tested, hunted. 

He seemed to find your answer appealing, getting up and pulling something out of his back pocket. Leaning down once more, you saw the switchblade bobbing between his hands, a pretty and simple hunting blade. He leaned over you, pressing it against the knot above your wrists. 

You focused on feeling for the blade as to not get cut, only for your attention to be pulled back to the spoiled one-percenters lips pressing yours directly. It was a shock, more than anything. You wished you had seen it coming, wish you had been better prepared to share your first kiss with your darling! 

Elijah left your mouth nowhere to run as he pressed up against you, fervidly ensnaring your lips between his.

You gladly accepted the pull away for a second kiss, leaning up as much as you could while hiding your desperation. He was so soft, lips gentle and big as they enveloped your bitten ones. 

“Sorry,” Elijah broke away slowly, not straying far. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” You watched his eyes stare wonders at your lips, fingers brushing against your trapped ones from behind as the task at hand was forgotten. 

“Me too.” You uttered, pulling forward to kiss him again with an open, insatiable mouth. 

#writing #yandere #reader insert #self insert #x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere aesthetic #yandere boy #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere darling #yandere x yandere #yan x yan #yandere community #yandere thoughts #yandere blog #yandere x yandere reader #yandere reader #yandere reader insert #gn reader

[baberoe-archive]

top 10 insane bucky moments?

god where do i start.

perhaps basic of me but getting drunk and then saying he's fine then asking curt to punch him in the face and then howling. perhaps number one bucky moment for me. just absolutely falling apart. i hear that brother. do you ever think about how eps 1-3 he never really lets buck see this side of him. and its only when curt dies that buck is privy to it. yeah i dont think about that either

"maaaaaarge...." is to me far more insane than scissoring in the yard. like at least when he's provoking fights it can be written off as restlessness, but mocking your best friend for taking comfort in his sweetheart's letter with the most sickeningly jealous expression in the world AND right in front of everyone's salad.......... this man is a medieval peasant self-flagellating in the street.

trading his sheepskin that buck hated to go on his first mission after buck went down. he didn't even think about it he just saw jack and ran over and did it. and then when brady asked him about it. he just straight up said "buck always hated that jacket" bitch WHAT

provoking col harding for no reason unprovoked. in front of the men!!! his self destructive tendencies and distaste for authority compel me

also when he starts yelling at that nazi guard on the march. that's such a good moment i get the impression that most of what bucky does is (to some extent) calculated like he knows hes being a dick he knows he flying too close to the sun and thats what he wants yknow he wants to egg people on but this moment he just completely lets go thats the pure thoughtless rage thats been simmering the whole series. god.

offscreen moment (forgive me) but not letting them send bucks footlocker back to the states. and then the 100th kept it for a full year like what did he say??? how desperate was he that no one could bring themselves to move bucks footlocker after a year???

stalag baseball scene. when you put on your off-putting and hard to be around-sona because you feel yourself to be so abandoned and abused that any semblance of gentleness would make you bare your teeth and bite. when you want to bite. when you dont want to bite.

willingly got a dart thrown at his face so he could give his boy best friend a bike so they could bike around together. ohhh my god bitch. down so bad its pathetic

whatever the hell he did to get on the regensberg mission and also the regensberg mission in general. pushing one of the gunners out of the way cause they were going for buck. "reserve command pilot" or whatever. i know what you are.

i dont remember the scene exactly but before the mission when they are getting their gear and hes like "call me sir" and crank goes "none of the people we're bombing today shot down buck" and then he just goes. absolutely silent. nothing to say to that. outline in the shape of a person moment.

#not necessarily in order of best to less better but i think you can tell which moments i spin around in my head lol #ask

[krirebr]

We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

Summary: When you move back in with your parents after a broken engagement, a drunken dare to visit the scary house on the edge of town changes everything for you. Forever.

Warnings: Please note, these warnings are broad to avoid spoilers. Proceed with caution. Horror, psychological horror (including but not limited to: general mind fuckery, memory loss, nightmares) noncon/dubcon, gore, death (see prompt), violence (mostly offscreen), explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), me wildly picking and choosing from hundreds of years of {redacted} mythology, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty All Hallow’s Tropes challenge. My tropes were The house from all the scary stories; Caught trespassing on private property; and A string of unexplained deaths. I had so much fun writing this one. Thanks so much for hosting Navy and Roo!

I tried out a lot of new things here. Horror! Smut! A ridiculous length! I’d really appreciate hearing what you think, so please drop a comment or reblog if you read it. Or come screech at me about this or anything else in my asks! Thank you for reading lovelies!

Driving through your hometown, you were surrounded by fall colors. It was comforting, in its own way. Just as the seasons changed, so could you. You liked the sound of that, of this being a good change. You needed it. You were ready for it.

You pulled off of the main street and drove the few short blocks to your parents' house, parking on the side of the road. The house was something that hadn’t changed, everything exactly as it always had been. Your eyes drifted to the neighbor’s house, a piece of police tape hanging off the front door. Your brow furrowed in concern. You hoped everything was alright.

You grabbed your duffle from the backseat, deciding that you could wait to bring in everything else. Your entire life fit into your small sedan. You tried not to let that make you sad. This was good. Change was good.

You let yourself in with the key you'd had since you were a child. “Mom? Dad? I’m here,” you called into the house. 

Your mom met you in the entryway with a big hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey.” She took a step back to look at you, concern all over your face. “I could kill Andy for what he did to you.”

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“I know, Mom,” you said, softly, both touched by her concern and a little annoyed that she was making you talk about it. You shrugged, “It’s over now.” Trying to change the subject, you asked, “What happened next door?”

Her face fell, “Oh, our poor neighbor died. They found him in the alley behind the American Legion. There was a whole investigation, but the coroner finally concluded that it was anemia.”

“I didn’t know you could die of that,” you said. Wasn’t it fairly controllable?

“I guess you can,” she shrugged, “if it’s bad enough and goes untreated.”

“Oh. Well, he must have been really sick then.”

She shrugged again, “Not that I ever saw, but how much can you ever know about someone you just say hello to at the mailbox? He was a nice young man, though.” She gave you another scrutinizing look, then gently patted your cheek. “Andy never deserved you,” she said and then made her way back down the hall towards the kitchen. “Your dad’s in his den,” she called over her shoulder.

You put your duffle down next to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and moved through the house to find your dad. You found him in his den, sitting on the worn leather couch they’d had your entire life, baseball on the TV. You sat down next to him and he put his arm around you in a half hug. “It’s nice to have you home, sweetheart,” he said, not taking his eyes off the game.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, appreciating the distance he was allowing you. The past month had been so hard. All the concern in everyone’s eyes, since it had all blown up with Andy, had become really difficult to take. You were happy to just sit here and watch baseball with your dad in silence.

At the next commercial break, he asked, “We have you for the whole night, or are you already making plans?”

You smiled. “I’m getting drinks with Tineka and David after dinner.”

“That’ll be nice,” he said. “Make sure you say hi for us.”

You got to the bar a little late. Your mom hadn’t wanted to give you up so easily, even though you’d be living with them and working from their house for the foreseeable future. You’d been to this bar a few times before, the nights before Thanksgiving when you were home from college, and drinking legally was still so novel. But not in ages, maybe a decade. You made your way through the Saturday night crowd, searching for Tineka before you found her set up in a booth in the back with her husband David, and someone you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Tineka climbed over David to tackle you with a hug. “Oh my god! It’s been so long. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You returned the hug a little harder than she probably expected. Longer, too. She pulled back and examined you carefully, concern in her eyes. You just shook your head and smiled. “I’m really happy to see you,” you said.

She beamed back at you and then gestured to the last person at the table. “Look who we ran into!”

“Robbie, hey,” you said with a little wave. Gosh, you hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d been decent friends your senior year and had even gone to Prom together when neither of you had been able to get another date. You’d lost touch when you’d gone away to school, and he’d stayed home to learn the family business.

“We mentioned that we were on our way to see you, and he wanted to tag along!” Tineka enthused, raising her eyebrows at you significantly. You struggled not to roll your eyes at her; it had been the tiniest crush, and that was so many years ago.

“Welcome home,” he said, sliding over to let you onto the bench seat.

You poured yourself a beer from the pitcher on the table, and you all quickly got into all the customary ‘nice to see you again’ questions. Was it weird to be back in town? Did you miss Boston? Did you know this teacher had retired? Or that that store had closed?

The pitchers multiplied, and when you’d lost track of whose turn it was to cover the next one, Tineka leaned forward excitedly, “Oh, here’s some good town gossip! Someone’s moved into the old Thrombey house!”

“What??” you yelled, louder than you meant to. “No way! I don’t believe it.”

“Wait, what’s the Thrombey House?” David asked. He didn’t grow up here with you, only moving here after he and Tineka got engaged, and she decided this was where she wanted to raise a family.

“It’s this old, abandoned house on the edge of town,” she told him. “There used to be this big, rich family that lived there. This was back in, like, the 70s. It was this old, super-rich guy and all his kids and in-laws and everybody. One night, one of his kids–”

“Grandkid,” you interrupted. 

“Yeah, one of his grandkids, he just loses it and sets fire to the house, with everyone inside. They all die, and Hugh Drysdale, the grandkid, just disappears. No one ever sees him again.”

You nod seriously across from her. “And weird shit starts happening on the property. Like animal carcasses thrown onto what’s left of the porch. Or that psychic that went there when we were kids. She said all she felt was pain, and whatever spirits were there had a desperate warning, but she couldn’t get anything beyond that. And then our senior year, that freshman that disappeared around there. And no one’s ever been able to do anything with it. It just stands there, a burnt-out husk. There’s absolutely no way someone’s moved into it.”

Tineka was nodding furiously, but Robbie leaned forward and butted in. “Here’s what actually happened,” he told David. “There was an electrical fire. Everyone died, probably including Hugh.” Tineka took a breath, and Robbie put up his finger to stop her. “They never found his remains because he was burned to a crisp, and there wasn’t enough to identify.” He raised another finger, “It was abandoned long enough that animals moved in and left their prey lying around.” A third finger went up, “All these stupid stories and rumors have made it a beacon for the unwell and scam artists.” Another finger, “That kid disappeared because it’s where all you dumbasses would go to party, and he was drunk and wandered into the woods and got lost or fell or something.” He raised the last finger on his hand, “And whoever’s owned the property over the years probably doesn’t want to be responsible for the cost of demolition, so they’ve just done the bare minimum to keep the city off their backs.”

You turned to look at him, mildly annoyed, “I don’t remember you being this boring in high school.” He just rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever,” you said and turned back toward Tineka. “I still can’t believe someone’s moved in there. They’d have to gut the whole building!”

“All I know,” she said, slurring a bit, “is that someone’s been coming and going, and sometimes there’s a car parked there.”

“What? Have you been staking it out? Says who?”

“People!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then her face lit up dangerously. “I know! We should go out there right now so I can prove it to you!”

You shook your head. “I walked here from my parents’ house, and I,” you placed both hands on the table to steady yourself, “definitely can’t drive.”

“Robbie can!” You could tell, now that Tineka had the idea in her head, she wasn’t going to let it go. “Right? Please, Robbie!” she whined. 

Robbie, who’d switched to water after his second beer, who knows how long ago, looked to David, who shrugged, and then to you. All you could do was grin at him and nod. You hadn’t done something stupid like this in such a long time. The feeling was a little thrilling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Robbie said. “It’s so dark out. You won’t be able to see anything anyway.” He looked around the table again and then slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out there too long.”

Robbie pulled up to the entrance of the lane leading up to the old Thrombey house and parked the car. Tineka leaned forward from her place in the back seat and lightly slapped your arm. “Alright!” she said, “this is where you get out! Good luck.”

“Wait,” you turned to face her, “I’m going on my own?”

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

“When did this become a dare?” you asked, starting to get an uneasy feeling in your gut. “What if I get shot for trespassing?!”

“I thought no one could possibly live there,” she taunted. 

You tried to look to David for help, but he’d fallen asleep next to his wife. Robbie just gave you a shrug. “Fine,” you said, somewhat angrily. “But if I’m not back in 10 minutes, you better come find my body.” You got out of the car, slammed the door closed, and started your walk down the path.

The lane was surrounded by dense trees, and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t see the car behind you. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves in front of you, and you wrapped your cardigan around you as tightly as you could. A few minutes later, the house appeared before you. 

The outside had remained mostly intact, but you knew that it was basically a husk now. Still, it was large and foreboding. Most of the glass in the windows was cracked, and ivy had overtaken much of the siding. As you got closer, you could see that there was, in fact, a vintage beamer tucked against the side of the house. Damn it, Tineka was right. You were about to admit your defeat and go back to your friends when the front door opened. You froze as a man carefully walked out onto the decaying porch.

You could have sworn that a moonbeam suddenly appeared where there wasn’t one before to light him directly. He was dressed in a sweater and slacks underneath a long camel overcoat with a colorful scarf. He looked right at you even though you were sure that the area you were in was too dark to be spotted. “This is private property. You’re trespassing,” he said. Something about his deep voice and insistent stare had you pinned to your spot.

“Um,” you said, trying to look away, but there was something about him that had you transfixed. “Uh, sorry, I just– um, I didn’t think anyone lived here. How– how do you live here?”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow at you. Everything had gone completely quiet. In the moonlight, his skin glowed, looked so pale it was almost translucent, and you felt completely hypnotized. He might have been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

“Sorry,” you said again, or maybe just breathed it. “We were just– we were drunk and–” You didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Why were you here?

He looked you up and down. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Not tonight then.”

“What?” you asked, even though you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than to you.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, grinning a little meanly. “I don’t have much of a taste for cheap booze.”

What a strange thing to say. It’s not like you were inviting him for a drink. What did he mean?

His focus shifted to somewhere behind you, and it was like you suddenly found yourself back on earth. The sounds of the forest filtered back in, and you didn’t feel held in place anymore. As you tried to adjust to the sudden onslaught of your senses, you slowly processed that you could hear Tineka calling for you, and the sounds of Robbie’s car quickly approaching.

“Better run, little rabbit,” the man said. “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”   

You turned around to see the car pull up, and Tineka hopped out without waiting for it to stop fully. “Holy shit, you scared the shit out of us! You didn’t come back! This was so dumb, I’m so sorry.”

You turned back to the house, to say what, you weren’t sure. But the man was gone. Maybe he’d never even been there? Maybe you were even drunker than you thought. “I’m not sure what happened,” you said, in a daze, as you let Tineka and Robbie herd you back into the car.

You were awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door. Your mom let herself in without waiting for a response. She was carrying a large vase filled with roses so deep red, they were practically black. 

“What are those?” you mumbled, barely awake.

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked as she placed them on your dresser. “Someone left them for you.”

“Wha?” It was too early for this. You rolled over to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. Oh. It was 11 AM. Fuck. You didn’t think you’d had that much to drink the night before, but you felt incredibly hungover. This was drinking in your thirties, you guessed. “Is there a card?” You finally mustered the awareness to say. 

“Not that I saw.”

“Then how do you know they’re for me?”

She looked around theatrically. “Who else could they be for? Your father?”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for bringing them in, Mom. I’ll be down in a bit.”

She nodded and left. 

You got up and examined the bouquet. They were beautiful, but… dark. There was something about them that made you feel a little unsettled. The vase looked old. Vintage. Expensive. No card. No sign of where they came from. 

You opened your phone and pulled up the contact you’d made for Robbie the night before. You wrote out the text and hit send before you could think better of it.

Hey, weird question. And please know that I’m embarrassed to even ask it, especially if you say no, but. Did you send me flowers?

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

You cringed and tossed the phone on the bed to create some distance. You hadn’t even been back 24 hours yet. Who could they possibly be from?

Late that night, you were wandering through the grocery store aisles, making your way towards the freezer section. Your mom didn’t keep snacks in the house, and you’d had a sudden craving for ice cream. Just as you were coming up on your prey, someone stepped right in front of you and turned around to face you.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trespasser,” the man from the Thrombey house said. It was startling to see him in the middle of the grocery store. He seemed so out of place, wearing his same overcoat and scarf, which from this distance you could now see was silk. Everything about him seemed expensive, even his smirk, and here you were in yoga pants and a too-large sweatshirt. How did he even recognize you? It’d been so dark that night.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, somewhat bashfully, “sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a cold smirk that you were starting to think was just the permanent state of his face. “I kind of liked the novelty of it. It’s not very often that your kind comes right to me, instead of the other way around.”

What the fuck did that mean? Did he mean not wealthy people? Well, you weren’t the one living in a house that was about to fall down. This man was so strange. “Well, anyway,” you said, “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” You tried to step around him to get to the ice cream case, but he followed you there. 

“What’s your poison?” he asked. You grabbed a carton of Moose Tracks and showed him, before trying to walk away again. 

He kept pace with you. “What’s your name?” he asked.  He stepped in front of you again and looked you right in the eye. “C’mon, tell me your name.”

It fell past your lips without you ever making the conscious decision to tell him. He smiled. All of his smiles were a little mean. “You can call me Ransom,” he said. 

You’d arrived at the self-checkout. You were so ready to get out of there. “Well, okay, Ransom. It was nice meeting you, but I’m gonna check out now. And let you get back to your shopping.” You noticed for the first time that he didn’t have a cart or basket with him. And he wasn’t holding any items in his hands. He could have just gotten there, not started shopping yet, but something in your gut told you it wasn’t right. 

He paused at the opening of the aisle opposite you. “Yeah, I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” he winked, and then turned around and finally walked away.

You tried to suppress the shiver that coursed through you. There was something not right about him. It didn’t matter. He was gone. You paid for your ice cream and walked out the automatic doors–

You were sitting in your car. Something niggled at your brain. You couldn’t remember the walk through the parking lot. That was strange, but you were probably just on autopilot. Plus, you were tired. Exhausted, really. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were. There was a twinge in your neck. You tried to stretch it out but the skin pulled a little painfully. You looked at the clock. It was later than you realized. You needed to get home, eat this ice cream, and go to bed.

That night, you dreamt of a river of blood and you were drowning in it. You woke up choking on nothing.

In the morning, you still felt tired, but you could hear your parents moving around downstairs, so you got up and got dressed. You put on a T-shirt and jeans, a cardigan, and then found an old scarf that you looped around your neck a few times. 

When you got downstairs, your mom was scrambling eggs at the stove, while your dad read the paper at the kitchen table. He smiled and wished you a good morning, then nodded at your chest. “Is that your passive-aggressive way of telling me to turn the heat up?” He laughed at himself.

“Huh?” you asked and looked down. Oh. The scarf. Was it odd? Now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure why you’d put it on. It had just felt… important. You didn’t know why. But you also couldn’t take it off. You curled in on yourself, a bit defensively. “I just liked it with this outfit.” 

Your mom came over to the table. “Leave her alone, you,” she said to your dad as she set a plate of breakfast in front of each of you. “I think it looks nice, honey,” she said to you as she sat down with her own plate. “Although, maybe a little warm. It’s cooling down, but it’s not winter yet.”

You fingered the fringe of the scarf self-consciously. “I just like it,” you said, quietly. It was just a scarf. You didn’t know why everyone cared so much.

Your dad was the one to finally change the subject. He shook out his paper as he asked you, “Didn't you go to school with Shannon McCready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said around a bite of eggs, “She was a real bitch. What? She get arrested or something?” 

Your mom grumbled unhappily next to you about your language, but you barely even noticed because the next thing your dad said was “No, she died a few days ago.”

You couldn’t say what or why, but something inside of you reacted to that. A frisson of fear crawled up your spine. "What?"

"Mhmm, the obituary doesn't say exactly, but it seems like it was sudden."

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!" 

He shrugged again and went back to his paper. Your mom blithely ate her breakfast beside you. You couldn't explain why you were so unnerved by this, but something deep inside of you was screaming that it wasn't right. You took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. You barely even knew her. You needed to get logged into work. Focus on something else.

The workday was long and hard. Your exhaustion only built as the day went on and your mind was all over the place. But you finally made it to the end and triumphantly logged off.

You met Tineka for dinner, just the two of you, at a little place right off Main Street. After you’d gotten settled and your drinks had arrived, she’d looked at you carefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up the other night with David and Robbie there, but how are you doing with everything? Really?”

You sighed. “Uh,” you said, “better than I thought I’d be? I mean, everything feels kind of strange, because I was living this whole life, and I just don’t really have any of it anymore? I mean, I was living in Boston with Andy. We had an apartment, a community. We were gonna get married. And now none of those things are true anymore. None of that is mine. That’s strange. But, maybe not bad. I’m realizing that I was kind of unhappy there. More than kind of. But I couldn’t see it until I was outside of it. And, like, moving back in with my parents, it isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t feel bad right now. If feels OK. If that makes sense.”

Tineka nodded. “I think that makes a lot of sense. And for what it’s worth, Andy was a piece of shit and I’m glad you’re rid of him.” She reached forward, cocktail in hand, to clink your glasses together. All you could do was smile. You really had missed her.

Your seat faced the window, and as you chatted, you watched the sun set over the colorful trees outside. It really was pretty here. This wasn’t a bad place to spend the season. 

As you were finishing your entrees, you frowned when you saw Ransom walk in. He noticed you too, and, waving the hostess away, made a beeline for your table. 

“We just keep running into each other,” he said, once he got to you, that perma-smirk firmly in place. 

"It's a small town," you said, nervously. You couldn't explain why this man triggered your fight-or-flight instincts so terribly. You were being ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything. “Oh, uh, sorry. Ransom, this is my friend Tineka. Tineka, Ransom.” 

Tineka looked between the two of you, open curiosity on her face. “How do you know each other?” she asked.

 “New friends,” Ransom supplied. “We just can’t help bumping into each other.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about where you’d met. That was his business, so you just nodded along.

He stood there for a moment, in a way that was too confident to be awkward, but still had you feeling a little uncomfortable. Tineka, bless her, had the social skills you just couldn’t pull together at that moment. “It’s packed tonight,” she said. “You’re welcome to sit down with us, although we’re probably leaving soon,” she gestured to your nearly empty plates.  

“Thank you,” he said, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He winked at you as he took the empty chair next to you. Something about it, about him, made you have to look away, focusing on your plate.

“So,” Tineka started, and oh no, that was her casual interrogation tone, “are you from around here? This town is small enough that I’m always surprised when I don’t already know someone.”

Ransom chuckled. “Sort of. I used to have family here, but I haven’t been back in ages. Just in town to collect some things and then I’ll probably be on my way again.”

You could feel him looking at you. His attention was always so much.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Tineka said, giving you a sideways glance you knew meant trouble. “We’re only just getting to know you.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I’ve found more here than I expected.” He stretched his arm out and briefly rested it against your chair back. His fingers brushed you between your shoulder blades and you couldn’t help the way you shivered. He dropped his arm back into his lap. When you turned to him, he was looking at Tineka, but you could feel his attention still on you. 

“You said your family’s no longer in the area?” Tineka kept probing.

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “It was no great loss, trust me.” There was a darkness in his eyes when he said that that had you swallowing nervously.

“I guess it’s the season for homecomings,” Tineka said, then pointed at you, “she just moved back too.”

He grinned knowingly at you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she said, pointedly. “Recovering from a shitty ex.”

“Tineka!” you hissed, but all she did was laugh. 

“Well,” he said, working his jaw, and you would swear it almost came out as a growl, “I bet he’ll live to regret that.” You couldn’t explain it, but at that moment, it felt like a threat. Which didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know Andy. He barely knew you. But the most disturbing thing was the little thrill that rushed through you at the thought. 

While you were having your mini-crisis, he stood up abruptly. “You know,” he said, “it really is busy in here. I’m probably better off getting dinner somewhere else. And I’ve intruded on girls’ night enough.” He then looked right at you and said, “I’ll be seeing you.” That, too, felt like a threat.

As he left, Tineka looked at you excitedly. “He’s hot!” she said, too loudly considering he hadn’t actually exited the restaurant yet. You hissed at her, but she batted it away. “And he’s clearly into you. Seems like the perfect opportunity to fuck Andy out of your system.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed and looked to the front to make sure he’d left. “You don’t think there’s something kind of unsettling about him?” 

“What do you mean?”

You paused to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t know, sometimes, just the way he looks at me, I get this chill down my spine.”

She laughed, delightedly. “Yeah, that’s called ‘he wants to fuck you!’ Seriously, this is good. Great, even!”

“I don’t know,” you said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that you just didn’t understand. 

She sobered and looked at you seriously. “Listen, you deserve this. After all that shit Andy put you through – the women. It’s time for you to get yours. I don’t care if it’s Ransom, or Robbie, or whoever, but you deserve this.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s definitely not going to be Robbie.” You couldn’t even imagine that.

“Ok, fine!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Then it should be Ransom!”

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

A little while later, you left the restaurant together. On the sidewalk, Tineka asked, “Did you walk here?” You nodded. “Do you want a ride home?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not far. I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

“Unless this town really changed while I was gone, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I want to walk.”

“Ok,” she said, but she seemed hesitant. 

You rolled your eyes and she backed down. “Hey,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “This was really fun. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said and pulled away, starting to head back to her car. “Think about what I said about Ransom!” she threw over her shoulder.

You laughed and started walking in the opposite direction, back to your parents' house. 

A few blocks later, when you were off the main street, you stopped when you heard a noise behind you–

You were half a block further down now. You looked around, confused. What just happened? How– The pain in your neck was back. It was on the other side now, and worse. You were so tired. A little dizzy. You walked as quickly as you could the rest of the way home.

You dreamt again that night. In this one, you sat in the middle of a large field. The sun shone down on you but you were sobbing uncontrollably. Your tears were made of blood.

You slept through your alarm the next morning, only waking when your mom came in and shook you. You were exhausted still, even though you’d slept a solid nine hours. Maybe you were coming down with something. Even though you had no other symptoms.

You went through your dresser three times until you found your one turtleneck. It seemed important.

Work felt impossible. Your focus was non-existent. You just wanted to lie down. 

Late that afternoon, when Robbie texted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee, you logged out early. You weren’t going to get anything else done anyway. Caffeine sounded helpful.

When you met outside the coffee shop, he asked, “Is coffee still ok? I know it’s getting kind of late in the day. We could do beer instead.”

You shook your head. “No, coffee’s good. I’m trying to cut down on how much I drink.” You stopped. You were? When did you decide that? Why? You shoved down the not-right feeling that was crawling up your throat. It was fine. It was good. Healthy. It was fine.

Robbie raised his eyebrows when you ordered a triple espresso, but didn’t say anything. It helped some, but you still felt sluggish. And you struggled to focus on the conversation. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked after about half an hour.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, trying to shake your head clear. “I’ve just been a little off the past few days. Probably just everything that’s happened catching up with me.”

He nodded. “I heard about all that. I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever need it.”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m fine, really,” you said, “but I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, as you were trying to decide if you’d been there long enough to politely make your excuses and go home, he said, “Oh, do you remember Alex Higgins?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” The name didn’t ring a bell, but you weren’t sure if that was because you didn’t know them or whatever was going on with you.

“He was a few years ahead of us? Friends with my brother?” 

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Well, this won’t mean much to you, then,” he said, “but he died a few days ago.”

Not right not right not right, your gut said. “How… how did he die?” you asked, terrified of the answer without knowing why.

“They don’t know yet. They haven’t been able to find anything wrong with him. They just found him collapsed outside, I guess.”

You white-knuckled it through the rest of your coffee.

Afterward, you lost over half of your walk home. When you arrived, there was another bouquet of almost black roses on your front porch.

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

Over the next week, you kept losing time. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, sometimes even more. Once you started paying attention, you realized it was only after the sun went down. But knowing that didn’t seem to help.

There were more nightmares too. There was the one where you were being chased through the woods by something unseen, under a blood-red moon and the trees came alive to trap you. Or the one where you were back at the Thrombey house and it was on fire. The skies opened up, but instead of rain, the clouds poured down blood. The strangest one had Ransom in it. Blood flowed from his mouth as he choked you with his scarf. They all started to blend together after that. Blood. Pain. Terror. 

Even with the nightmares, you slept like the dead. But that didn’t stop you from waking up exhausted every morning. You called in sick to work multiple days. You stopped seeing Tineka or Robbie. What would have been the point? You couldn’t concentrate on anything. You could barely stay awake. And every time you went for a walk in the evening, to try to get some exercise and clear your head, you lost time. Something was very wrong and you didn’t know what to do.

The one person you did see was Ransom. He often seemed to be out and about at the same time you were. The fear you felt for him was still there, but you couldn’t deny that you were drawn to him, too. When he was near. you could feel the chaos that had taken you over the last week finally quiet down. You still lost time with him, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Nothing seemed to matter as much when you were with him. Even if you still felt the instinctual urge to turn around and run away whenever you saw him.

Compounding your troubles, the roses just kept coming. Every few days, another bouquet appeared on your porch. You still had no idea who was sending them. It had occurred to you that maybe it was Andy, trying to fuck with you. As much as you hated him now, that just didn’t seem like him. But you couldn’t think of anyone else who would do it either. You barely even knew anyone in town anymore.

For a reason you couldn’t articulate, you didn’t say anything about any of this to your parents. You couldn’t hide it from them though. They may not have known exactly what was going on, but they knew there was something. You overheard them one night as you came down the stairs to get a glass of water, their low tones coming from the living room.

“She is not okay,” your dad was saying, “and we need to stop acting like she is.”

“She’s been through a lot,” your mom said. “If she wants space–”

“Look at her!” your dad said, trying to keep his voice quiet, but the emotion still came through. “The time for space is over. I think we need to start talking about professional help.”

As quietly as you could, you ran back up the stairs. You weren’t that thirsty.

You spent the next two days in bed. When your mom came in to check on you, you told her you had the flu.

On the third day, you woke up feeling clear-headed for the first time in ages. You were rested. You hadn’t had any nightmares. The fog seemed to have cleared from your brain. When you bounced downstairs and greeted your parents, the relief on their faces made you want to cry. Your work day was the most productive you’d had since you’d arrived at your parents’ house. You finally felt like things were going to be ok.

That night after dinner, you decided to celebrate your good mood with snacks. You got in your car and started driving to the grocery store.

When you parked, you looked up. You weren’t at the grocery store. You were in front of the Thrombey house. You burst into tears. No no no. How had you gotten here? Why was this happening to you? As you were about to put the car in reverse and go back home, the front door opened and Ransom came out. So instead, you got out of the car.

“Trespassing again?” he asked, that smirk always on his lips. Like there was a joke that only he knew about.

   “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know what’s happening!”

He came down off the porch and walked over to you. He gently brushed a tear off your cheek and looked you in the eye. “Poor little rabb–

You were sitting in your car, parked in front of your parents’ house. The sun was coming up. How? The last thing you remembered, it was evening. It’d been hours. So many hours. The entire night. You let out a frustrated, guttural cry. You checked your phone, certain there must be so many panicked calls and texts from your parents, but there was nothing. Looking further, you found a text from yourself to your mom, telling her that you were spending the night with Tineka. Had you? Was that where you’d been? You thought about calling Tineka to check but one of two things would happen. She’d be confused as to why you couldn’t remember that you’d just left her house. Or, she’d tell you that she hadn’t seen you in days. Both options seemed equally awful and impossible to deal with. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and looked up at the front door. In front of it, was an ornate, vintage vase, filled with roses, so deep red they were practically black. No. Absolutely not. You started your car again and pulled back out onto the road in a flurry. This was one mystery you might actually be able to solve and you were going to do it.

The only dedicated floral shop in town didn’t open for another two hours. That was fine. You could wait. You sat in your car as long as you could stand it, and then when you grew too antsy to bear, you got out and paced in front of the storefront.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you were inside the shop, frantically looking through all of the roses.

“Can I help you?” an employee cautiously asked from behind you. 

You spun around. “I’m looking for black roses.”

“Oh, uh, so, roses don’t actually come in true black. The closest is a really dark red that looks almo–”

“Yes, I know that!” You interrupted. “That’s what I’m looking for!”

“Well,” they said, a professional curtness in their tone now, “we don’t carry them. You’d have to do a special order.”

That was actually good news. It’d narrow down possibilities considerably. “Can you tell me who’s been ordering them?”

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

They took a step back. “We haven’t had anyone order them recently.”

You shook your head wildly, desperation taking over. “No, that’s not true! You’ve been delivering them to my house! I just want to know who’s sending them.”

Another employee came out from the back and eyed you carefully.

“Please,” you said, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “You have to tell me who it is. I have to know.”

“We haven’t had any orders like that,” the first employee said firmly.

“No!” you shouted. “Please just tell me. You have to tell me!”

“Ma’am,” the second employee finally spoke up. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

You stopped and looked around yourself. Another customer had come in. They stood by the door and stared at you. Everyone stared at you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The first employee looked deeply uncomfortable, but the second just folded their arms and gave you a hard look.

“You’re sure?” you asked. “You really haven’t had any special orders?” You felt a few tears fall down your cheeks.

“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, we’ll have to call the cops.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You left as quickly as you could, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

Once outside and away from the floral shop, you found a bench and sunk down on it, trying to pull yourself together. What was happening? What was wrong with you? 

You heard someone across the street call your name and you looked up to see Robbie rushing toward you. He dodged a few cars and then stepped up onto the sidewalk. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You started sobbing at that, unable to hold anything in any longer. He sat down on the bench next to you and tentatively put his hand on your back. He said your name again, softly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I think I’m losing my mind,” you choked out. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He was rubbing gentle circles now. “Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help.”

So you did. You told him about losing time and saying things you didn’t understand, being so tired all the time you could barely get out of bed, the nightmares. He listened quietly to everything and when you were done he just nodded for a moment, then said, “First thing, I think, is that you need to see a doctor.”

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

“Listen, I know it’s scary, but I don’t think this is going to go away on its own. This could be a brain tumor or something. You really need to get it checked out.”

“You’re not listening to me,” you growled out, surprised by how upset you were, and how quickly your mood had changed. “I can’t.”

“Ok,” he said, putting his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m listening. Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t!” you said, standing up. You were jittery. You needed to move.

Robbie reached out a hand, and quietly said your name again, clearly trying to calm you down.

You couldn’t stop shaking your head. “I just can’t, okay? I just can’t. I can’t. I’m not allowed!”

You both froze. “What–” Robbie stopped then tried again, shock clear on his face. “What do you mean you’re not allowed?”

You didn’t know, exactly. You just knew it was true. No doctors. Absolutely not. “I have to go,” you said and turned abruptly to race back to where you’d parked your car. Robbie called after you the whole way.

Your phone buzzed at you the whole drive home. Robbie. He wouldn’t stop. It continued all day. He was worried about you, his texts and voicemails told you. What you said had really freaked him out. Was someone hurting you? He just wanted to help. You hid in your bedroom and buried your phone in your laundry hamper. You could still hear it buzzing away, but it made it easier to pretend that you couldn’t. Finally, sometime after dark, it stopped.

It started ringing again in the morning, just as insistent as before. You dug it out of your dirty clothes, ready to tell Robbie to just forget what happened and leave you alone when you saw that it was Tineka, and she was calling for the third time.

When you answered, at first you just heard her crying. “Tineka?” you asked. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Robbie,” she sobbed, and for a moment you thought maybe he’d talked to her, told her who knows what, but then she continued. “Oh god, Robbie. Robbie’s dead.”

A chill whipped through your entire body. “What?” you breathed. Just yesterday– No. Your mind went to all the people you’d heard about since you’d gotten here. The vague reasons, the shrugs given as cause of death. A pattern you’d refused to see until this moment. You had to know if he was part of it. “Tineka, how did he die?”

“Oh god,” she sobbed, “It’s so awful. I can’t– His throat. It was ripped out.”

You felt time stop. Distantly, you could hear Tineka still talking. Going on about animal attacks, coyotes and bobcats, maybe something escaped from a sanctuary or private owner. You couldn’t explain it, you didn’t know why – you obviously didn’t know anything – but you knew deep down in your being that this was because of you. Something was happening.

Without saying anything, you ended the call and left your phone on your bed. You didn’t get dressed, still in the leggings and oversized t-shirt you always slept in. You moved through the house as quickly and quietly as you could, not bothering to stop to look for your parents. The only things you grabbed on your way out were your coat and your car keys. 

As you started driving away, you didn't really have a destination in mind, but once you were about halfway there, you realized that you did in fact know where you were going now. Of course, you did. There was only one place to go. One person to see.

As you pulled up in front of the Thrombey house, it struck you that you’d never seen it in daylight before. The way the sun shone down on it almost made it more eerie. It should not be here, in this daylight world. It was a relic of the night. You shook your head at yourself. Your thoughts had become so strange lately.

You waited in your car. He always heard you and came out, but this time, nothing. You looked to the little driveway at the side. The beamer was there. So where was Ransom? After several minutes of waiting, you got out. You went up to the house, ready to pound on the door until he came out, but stopped at the porch. You could clearly see now how the wood was rotting, the holes that were already there. You couldn’t risk taking a single step onto it. You didn’t know how he came in and out this way.

You looked around, there must be another way in, maybe on the side of the house. As you walked around the corner, you came up short. Lining this side of the house, hidden from the front, was a beautiful, neat row of rose bushes, in such a deep red they were practically black. No. No no no. It couldn’t be. But of course, it was. You were so stupid. So blind. You fell to your knees beside them. It had all started here, at this house. You could clearly see that now, finally. Whatever end came, that would be here too, so you laid down, and you waited. There was nothing else to do.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You were pretty sure you’d dozed in and out. But at some point, the sun had gone down. Once it was fully hidden beneath the horizon, you heard the front door open and footsteps come around the side of the house.

Ransom crouched down next to your head, his hand gently brushing the hair out of your face. “So you know now,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but you still shook your head. “No,” you said. “I don’t know anything. I don’t understand.”

He nodded and stood up. You sat up, almost like there was a string in your chest, connected to his. “You know,” he said, looking up at the house. “Ransom is my middle name. I’ve always gone by it, but when they reported on everything that happened here, they used my first name, so that’s the one everyone remembers.”

Of course. “Hugh,” you breathed. “You’re Hugh Drysdale.” You were as sure of it as you’d ever been of anything. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. He nodded, pleased. “How?” you asked. Hugh had been roughly your age when the fire had happened and he’d disappeared. Almost 50 years ago. The man standing in front of you didn’t look a day over 35.

He crouched down again, so that he was level with you, so that you could clearly see his face in the moonlight. So that you had a perfect view of the fangs that dropped down.

You gasped, wanting to scoot away on your hands, but you stayed pinned in your spot. “No, that’s not– You can’t–” You took a deep breath and gave yourself the courage to say the word. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He threw his head back and laughed. It was wild and loud and cruel. “Come on now,” he said, “I know you aren’t that stupid, sweetheart.”

As you tried to process this, you realized it didn’t actually matter how any of this could be real. There was only one question you actually needed an answer to. “Why did you do this to me?” 

He grinned at you, mean as ever. “Because you came right to me, little rabbit. How could I resist an offering like that?” Tears started to run down your face, and he cooed at you, collecting a few with his finger. “I’ll admit, at first, I’d just planned to drain you, leave your body beside the grocery store for some teenage employee to find the next day.” He smiled at the thought. “But that first taste. You have no idea how good you taste, baby. It couldn’t just be a one-and-done. It was as easy as anything to put you under a little thrall. Compel you to forget when I fed on you, make sure you didn’t let anyone else know. The plan was to snack on you while I was here, and once I had everything I needed, I’d bring you with me, keep you as a little pet blood bag until I was bored and done with you. And torturing you was so fun. It made having to be here so much more bearable. But as I broke you down, brought you to your weakest, it made me realize that I’m desperate to see you at your strongest. See you surging with power.”

There was something in his words, in his eyes, that filled you with panic. But also something else. Want, you were terrified to admit. “What does that mean?” you whispered.

“It means you’re mine, baby, and I’m going to keep you. Claim you. Forever.”

It was the last word you fixated on. That was the word that meant everything. That really said what he meant. You took a deep breath, trying to get the crying under control. “And if I let you do that, this will all stop? I’ll be ok again?”

He chuckled. “Sure, honey. If you ‘let’ me do it, it’ll all stop. You’ll get your mind back. The thrall will lift.”

“And if I don’t?”

He tilted his head to the side. “If you don’t, you’ll still be mine. I’ll just make it hurt. Your friend Tineka sure has a pretty neck. Maybe I’ll rip it out, just like I did to your other little friend. Or your parents. Blood is kind of like wine, you know, gets better with age.”

“No, no, please,” you begged.

“Then give yourself to me, right now.” He leaned forward into your space and you fought the dual urges to pull away and to close the distance completely.

You took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. Your torment would stop. Things would be better. Your family would be safe. “Okay,” you whispered, “please. Please, Ransom.”

Without further ado, he pulled you into a bruising kiss, both hands tightly gripping your face, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He gave you no choice but to sink into it, his fangs still dropped, occasionally nipping into your lips. When he pulled away, you were left gasping for breath. 

You had no time to recover before he was pushing back on your shoulders and then slipping his hands under your knees to tip you onto your back. You held yourself up, as much as you could, on your forearms, unable to look away from him. Mesmerized by him, as always. He pulled on your leggings until they ripped in two and tossed them away. He crawled between your knees and then did the same to your panties. You cried out at the sting of the elastic breaking. He smoothed a hand over you, fingers moving through the thatch of soft curls, and growled “Just perfect.” Then he lowered his face to your cunt and slowly dragged his tongue along the length of it. You finally gave in and let your upper body fall back, tossing your head to the side, your hands grasping for purchase in the dry grass beneath you, as he worked you over with his mouth. Little mewls escaped you, beyond your control. You wanted to deny how good it felt; he was a literal monster. He had killed countless people. His own family, in this exact spot where he now defiled you. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth on you, the rising heat in your core, the grass under your hands, the twigs poking into your back. The one thing outside of this exact moment that your brain briefly flashed to was Andy. How he had never felt like this. Never given you this. In his own way, he too, had wanted to drain you dry and then he’d left you with nothing to show for it. His promise of forever had turned out to be empty. With Ransom, you knew that word meant something different. Meant something more. Something real.

Your mewls had turned into soft little chants of “Please,” and “Ransom,” over and over. As you reached your peak and were just about to go over it, he removed his mouth from you. You cried out in frustration and lifted your head just in time to see him turn his and sink his teeth into your thigh. You screamed at the pain. The way it mingled with the intense pleasure you were already experiencing, along with the constant fear you’d been in for the past weeks had you hurtling over the edge. You came harder than you ever had before, your body spasming through it, tears rushing down your face, wetness pooling between your legs. Ransom drank from you all through your orgasm and the aftershocks. As you were finally coming down, he released your thigh, quickly licking up the blood that had dripped down your leg. He reached up to your face and grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact as he viciously bit into his own wrist. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, grasping it firmly, and then pushed his bloody wrist into your mouth. You flailed, instinctively trying to get away, but his hard grip wouldn’t let you move. You choked as his blood filled your mouth. Your eyes were wide, hands wildly trying to release his hold on you.

“Just drink,” his voice filled your consciousness. “Drink. Take it all, sweetheart.” At some point, your body gave in, no longer struggling, trying to dislodge him. You took what he gave you and swallowed. “Good girl,” he cooed as you continued to drink. “Good girl.” You grasped his wrist, latching on with your mouth, suddenly desperate for more. Blackness was gathering at the edges of your vision. It started gradually and then quickly overtook you. The last thing you heard before you slipped into the darkness was Ransom’s chuckle.

You gasped for breath as you rocketed up to a sitting position. You could hear everything. The birds on the roof of the house. The wind moving in the trees. The ants in the ground beneath you. You could feel everything. The hair on your arms, standing straight up. The grass growing in the ground. The electricity in the air. The one thing you couldn’t feel was your blood flowing through your veins. It was still. You knew it was. But something was pumping through you. Power. You gasped again to feel it. You could do anything now. You were sure of it. You’d been so weak before. But now. Now nothing could beat you. With that power was also the most intense hunger you’d ever felt. You needed something, right now. You needed everything. You needed to feed, you needed to fuck, you needed to drink.

A familiar chuckle interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Ransom standing above you. That mean smirk that was always on his face. “Oh little rabbit,” he said, “we are going to have so much fun.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, there's a follow-up! 💜

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

#ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #dark fic #knives out #ransom drysdale #horror fiction #chris evans fanfiction #navy and roo's sleepover #kris wrote something #fanfic #we are vain & we are blind

[ao3cassandraic]

What does Aziraphale know and when does he know it? Part 4: The Aftermath

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3, for those who need them.

After Crowley strides out, Aziraphale has a lot going on in his head still, and it shows on his poor devastated angry (he is angry, just a bit) face.

Then the Metatron comes back in, and Zira has to turn sharply away to pull himself back into some kind of kayfabe. "How did he take it?" the Metatron asks cheerfully, despite already knowing because he was watching. Jehoshaphat, y'all, I thought s1!Gabriel was punchable -- I want to drop the Metatron into Earth-core magma like Gollum at this point!

Aziraphale's heroic efforts at kayfabe are pretty successful, on the whole, but it hurts to see him stiff as a board, arms at his sides, letting the Metatron (argh, so punchable) insult Crowley and laughing nervously. Then the Metatron starts forcing him out the door again with "Right, ready to start?" The presumptuous wretch doesn't even wait for a yes -- just assumes it!

Aziraphale, however, knows he never said yes, so he tries playing for -- anything, really, more information or some kind of choice (arc word! arc! word!) or anything at all. No dice; the Metatron highhandedly gives his bookshop (his. BOOK. SHOP.) to Muriel. Aziraphale now knows why the Metatron wanted Muriel to stay behind on Earth, and he also knows that the Metatron will stop at nothing and trample anyone to get what he wants. Not comforting knowledge, that.

And Aziraphale, having essentially no more choice (I repeat: arc word!), but still horribly torn because he never got to make a decision about the job offer, still doesn't have a Metatron-thwarting plan, and wants Crowley with all his mind and heart, blurts "I think I --" Then he drops back into kayfabe, following the extremely punchable Metatron out the door.

Crowley's still there, standing by the Bentley. All our hearts shatter. But the extremely punchable Metatron (have I mentioned that he is extremely punchable?) keeps Aziraphale moving along by dropping hints at answers to his continuing questions: whatever the Metatron's up to, it's something to do with the Great Plan.

Aziraphale asks. And now that he's firmly in the Metatron's clutches, the Metatron answers: it's the Second Coming.

Watch Aziraphale drop kayfabe (fortunately, the Metatron isn't looking at him) for a look of helpless dismay. A.Z. "entire collection of Bibles, wicked and otherwise" Fell knows what that means! Watch him re-establish kayfabe when the Metatron looks at him from the elevator. Watch him turn back toward Crowley to tell him (unnecessary -- Crowley knows from his visit Upstairs -- but Aziraphale doesn't know Crowley knows), then decide (with another of those pulling-himself-together deep breaths) that he must instead play along. Watch him kayfabe-smile at the Metatron and enter the elevator.

And watch kayfabe warring with devastation and guardianly determination in Aziraphale's face over the credits. My read -- you may have a different one -- is that determination wins, and the eventual smile is an "okay, now I have a plan" smile.

Watch out, Metatron. Aziraphale's gonna wreck you and I'm gonna enjoy it.

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

This interpretation of the Final Fifteen Minutes is parsimonious. It works with what's there onscreen, not assuming much beyond that -- the only Caveat About Offscreen Shenanigans I left in was to note that we don't necessarily see the entire chinwag. Exactly zero of the twistier, more elaborate fan theories, you may have noticed, made it into this meta -- heck, we don't even have to assume we didn't see the entire chinwag! We might have! What we did see was enough to lead to these outcomes!

The Gaiman-Pratchett-Finnemore brain trust likes jigsaw-puzzle plots where everything has its place and little or nothing is wasted. That's a big reason I think a parsimonious interpretation is likely to be close to a true interpretation. It's all there; why get wild if there's no need to?

This also aligns with what Michael Sheen has said (do please read this not-mine meta, it's lovely) about angels and goodness and making choices. I, too, want Aziraphale to have made the hard, hurting, noble choice at last, even if he was partly railroaded into it.

(Anyone who doesn't care for fan theories should stop reading now, with my effusive gratitude for making it this far.)

That said, the explosion of fan theories about the Final Fifteen Minutes also demonstrates that this interpretation is narratively accommodating. It doesn't have to assume poisoned or drugged coffee, but it doesn't preclude that. It doesn't require a body swap, but it allows it -- all that really has to change is the estimation of who's doing how much kayfabe when. It doesn't need some massive season-spanning conspiracy arc, but if there is one, it can make that work.

Neil knows fandom, none better. He knows we love our meta and our theories. So I have no trouble believing he wrote us a narratively accommodating finale so we could get our book-length Tumblr posts on. Appreciate it, and you, Neil.

#gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #the fucking metatron #the final fifteen minutes #good omens meta #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #the EXTREMELY PUNCHABLE metatron #seriously is there a bafta for playing the most punchable character #because I want to give it to Derek Jacobi

[saltydkdan]

Salty i wanna get into Baki which one do you recommend,the manga or the anime?

Oh you just woke up the fucking beast (I'm so sorry).

I LOVE this question, and as a recent Baki fan myself, I can tell you that getting into the series as a Western consumer can be rough if you don’t have a basic guide to know what you’re getting into…. so that’s what I’m gonna make this post (TEEHEE).

This series has gotta be one of the most insane shonen- actually no- one of the most INSANE PIECES OF FICTION I've ever experienced, and I NEED more people to check it out. Like, LOOK AT THIS SHIT DUDE.

Baki out of context somehow even puts Jojo's Bizarre Adventure to shame. The way I usually pitch it to people is that Baki is as insane as people THINK Jojo is before they read it. Shit is just... MAN LMAO. OBAMA IS FUCKING IN THIS.

Unlike more popular stuff like Dragon Ball and Hunter x Hunter, a lot of this series has just never been officially localized, so knowing where to start, and even how to support the series, is a hard task if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Thankfully THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE ME FOR. This Tumblr post is gonna be your one stop shop for how to get into Baki as an English speaker (and it’ll give me some space to ramble about one of my latest favorite series).

But uh before we get into the nitty gritty, wanna put some trigger warnings for the series for those who may want to know. Listen, I know how some of these are gonna look to the average person, but this series just be like that sometimes, if you can’t take stuff like this trust me it’s insanely valid. You’ll understand if you choose to take the plunge.

SERIES TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Animated Blood/Violence, some animated gory imagery, Incest (???), Nudity, Urine stuff, Bigfoot/Animal Violence, Death, Uncomfortable looking muscles, and one instance of sexual violence (offscreen)

If you are comfortable with all that (and again, valid as fuck if you aren’t) then let’s talk BAKI!

First off, Manga or Anime?

You would think that either would be fine, but my personal recommendation for Baki as a beginner, is to watch the anime over reading the manga. Simply put: The anime is a lot more widely available and accessible in English speaking territories, and is fairly easy to support officially with its current iteration.

For whatever reason, the manga just never really took off in the West when compared to other series, so it was only ever officially released in English a handful of times, and they only ended up publishing the first few volumes. Theoretically, you can read the first few books to start, but the entire series all together is legit longer than One Piece at a whopping 1,203 chapters, so you are gonna run out of material real quick. The fraction of officially available manga barely scratches the surface of the series.

Even if you’re stubborn about reading the manga and want to try reading fan translations, they come with their own separate batch of issues. Plenty of fan scans you can find online range from wildly outdated, to generally being poor quality at best. There’s even some fan translations that just straight up make shit up and don’t even properly translate the original script. Adding in extra dialogue and slurs randomly to make the text seem way edgier than it actually is.

Full disclosure, I wanna cut through my bias here and say that there are indeed some great scans available on the internet if you look hard enough, especially for the more recent content! But they aren’t super easy to track down with how the series is formatted, and you may accidentally find yourself reading the story out of its proper order.

The watch/read order of Baki is a bit of a toughie for new people, but is actually pretty simple once it’s explained. The story of Baki is split up into multiple different series, kind of similar in format to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. Though instead of “Parts”, Baki is split up into completely different manga and TV series. This is why many fans get confused initially, especially with the watch order, because it isn’t laid out in an easy to understand way at first glance.

The most well known series are currently streaming on Netflix, but those aren’t the ones you wanna start with. Nope, the story of the Baki anime actually starts way back in 2001, in a TV show that isn’t streaming officially online. Now if you want to watch out of order, I’m not gonna stop you. You can do whatever you want, by all means, but you’re gonna be missing some VERY important story context, and some characters just won’t hold the same weight.

So if you DO want to watch in order, come with me my friend. Let me show you-

BAKI’S SUPER COOL AND NOT AT ALL CONFUSING WATCH ORDER:

Baki the Grappler (2001) (24 episodes)

This is the original 2001 anime adaptation, the very start of serialized Baki anime. You’re gonna wanna start here trust me.

This series isn’t streaming anywhere officially online, but you can find it… places. Seek it out, trust me, because otherwise you’re gonna pay way too much for out of print DVDs on Ebay. Thankfully though you have options! The series is both subbed and dubbed (as well as every series I discuss from this point forward.

This show is the very start of serialized Baki anime, the very beginning of Baki Hanma’s story. Although it’s not in the way you may think. Despite this being the earliest point in the Baki timeline, it’s actually an adaptation of a later story arc from the manga.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t you just say this is where I should start? Why is it adapting something from later in the story?”, and yeah it’s valid to be confused. While yes this is the first ever Baki anime, for some reason the staff behind it made the decision to move this later arc up a bit from the original manga. In my honest opinion, I feel like this is actually a great decision.

As you will see as you watch, this honestly FEELS like this should be where the story begins. The escalation of power and storytelling from this point onward feels very natural, and you won’t miss out on anything or spoil yourself whatsoever on later events.

This is the de facto best starting point.

Grappler Baki Maximum Tournament (2001) (24 episodes)

This is effectively the second season of Baki the Grappler. For whatever reason they decided to title it something else, and while this is the norm for the series later on, this name change is weird because it adapts an arc from the original manga just like the first season of anime I just talked about.

Whatever lol.

Anyway this series, much like the previous, isn’t officially available as of now. So your best option is to SEARCH for it. SEARCH on the INTERNET. Or y’know. The good ol’ expensive out of print DVD on Ebay route.

In my opinion, compared to the first season, this one feels a bit slower paced and a bit of a slog at points but HOLD STRONG TRUE BELIEVER. This season is the introduction to a lot of mainstay characters in the series. Many of which you will come to love, even if you don’t know it yet.

BAKI (2018) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the modern adaptation of Baki. After the last series ended in 2001, the anime went on hiatus for 17 years before it was announced that it would be coming back with a modern coat of paint.

Contrary to what you may think, this isn’t a ground up reboot. It’s a continuation of the exact point they left off years ago, right after the Maximum tournament. The only thing that kind of sucks about this is that, at least for the English dub, they replaced most of the voice cast. Most of the new VAs do a great job, however you may need to get used to Yujiro Hanma having Shadow the Hedgehog’s modern VA from the games haha.

Thankfully, you can officially support this series easily via Netflix. Normally I’m pretty eh on Netflix as of late, but this being the only way you can support the show officially in the west, I personally recommend it.

Baki Hanma (2023) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the most recent anime! It’s also on Netflix.

Me and my friends just got to this on our watchthrough together.

Anyway, this is my list! If after you catch up you wanna hop into the manga and read the fan scans, I’ve heard that you can start on Baki Hanma/Baki Son of Ogre (chapter 183).

Hope you enjoy the funny man punching show! Feel free to report back and tell me how you feel about it (positive OR negative)!

Like I said, I've been watching the series with friends on Discord every night or so when we're free and MAN. Baki is fucking AMAZING WITH FRIENDS. It just never slows down after a certain point, and it just gets stranger and crazier.

#salty asks #saltydkdan #long boys #baki #anime #manga

[beansprean]

Miniscene hurt no comfort Wednesday.

*waves hand* something about Nandor's alexithemia, the inability to see yourself clearly, being alone in a feeling or a moment, etc etc... y'know... mirrors!!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up on Nandor looking conflicted and sad on a mottled green background as he notices something ahead of him. 1b. Reverse shot of Guillermo from behind, sleeves rolled up as he cleans a mirror with a cloth. A small side table below the mirror holds a spray bottle of cleaner and a few books with a bookend shaped like a rearing horse. Guillermo is reflected in the mirror but Nandor is not. 1c. Shot of Guillermo from the side; Nandor's arm enters the frame to grip his shoulder from behind with a soft "Guillermo..." Guillermo turns his head back slightly, arm pausing its polishing. His reflection is still visible in the mirror, alone. 1d. Repeat. Guillermo lowers his arm and half-turns to face Nandor as he steps into frame, hand still on Guillermo's shoulder, facing away from the viewer. Guillermo looks up at him expectantly and replies, "Yes?" His reflection turns away with him.

2a. Shot in profile, background blown out in red-violet as Nandor surges forward, both hands cupping the back of Guillermo's shoulders to pull him in, and presses his mouth desperately to Guillermo's. Guillermo's eyes fly wide in surprise, cheeks reddening as his hands, one still clutching the cleaning cloth, are crushed against Nandor's chest. 2b. Repeat. Their heads tilt left, changing places as Guillermo begins to kiss back. His hands run up Nandor's chest to grip at his cape. Nandor grips Guillermo's shoulder firmly with one hand and slides the other up to cup the back of his neck.

3a. Repeat. The background returns to green as they part, still holding each other close with mouths scant inches apart. Nandor looks dazed, half-lidded eyes staring without seeing. Guillermo smiles softly, gaze hooded but focused as he asks playfully, "Hah...what was that for?" 3b. Repeat. Nandor looks away, tension returning to his expression as he takes a small step back, loosening his grip on Guillermo's shoulder. He stutters, "I, um..." Guillermo, hands still on Nandor's chest and gripping his cape, waits patiently for him to complete the thought. He maintains his soft smile, but some confusion begins to creep on his expression. 3c. Close up on Guillermo from Nandor's POV, Nandor's hand stretched out and sliding from Guillermo's shoulder to rest on his collarbone. From offscreen, Nandor continues, "I don't know." Guillermo jerks in shock, his expression immediately hardening as his eyes widen in pain, staring up at Nandor. He is hurt, but he can't quite manage disbelief. 3d. Repeat. Guillermo closes his eyes and ducks his head, scowling but somehow resigned as he grabs Nandor's hand to remove it from his shoulder. He says, "Well. Don't do it again..." 3e. Wide shot, the mirror and table visible again on the far wall. Nandor stands in front of it, back to the viewer, rejected hand still hovering in the air, unable to decide whether to reach out, as Guillermo turns his back and walks away. Guillermo continues, "...until you do know." His face is turned away from the viewer as he leaves, but the mirror catches his expression as it crumples, hurt and angry and humiliated. He is alone in the mirror, and whatever expression Nandor wears remains unseen - perhaps even to himself. /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #in which i am nandor unfortunately this is part of my hes just like me fr alexithemia conspiracy

[linkspooky]

BSD VS LITERATURE: NO LONGER HUMAN

The second entry in my long running series to analyze every single book referenced in Bungou Stray Dogs, to try piece together the author’s intended meaning in referencing the work. 

Osamu Dazai’s ability name comes from the author’s final novel “No Longer Human”, you may have heard of it. The novel contains several events from the author’s real life, but is considered semi-autobiographical because it depicts the life of a fictional character “Yozo” who much like the real life author attempted suicide a total of five times in his life before utlimately succeeding. Many believe the book to be his will as Dazai killed himself shortly after the last part of the book was published. As for the connection to the fictional character, more under the cut. 

1. Disqualified from Being Human

Dazai as a character borrows several traits from Yozo the protagonist of the novel. He has the same habit of clowning and engaging others in a false persona, while it happens mostly offscreen the audience and Dazai’s coworkers are aware of the fact he regularly indulges himself in vices like drinking, having illicit relationships with women (its often referenced he has a long line of exes and women he’s left upset over him) and that he’s also constantly in debt. 

Deeper than those surface level traits though, Dazai shares the same motivation as Yozo for his antics. They are both people who feel utterly alienated from the people around them, unable to connect with their thoughts and feelings and because of that they resort to always engaging them in a false, and comedic facade. They are fundamentally uncomfortable with ever presenting their true selves around others. 

As a child I had absolutely no notion of what others, even members of my own family, might be suffering from or what they were thinking. I was aware of my own unspeakable fears and embarrassments. Before anyone realized it, I had become an accomplished clown, a child who never spoke a single word. No Longer Human. 

Dazai is described as a child in the same way by Oda, who is arguably the character who knows him best. Even with Oda though, and the rest of the Buraiha trio as a whole though they were friends it carries the tragedy that they never were truly honest with one another, Oda never overstepped the clear boundaries between him and Dazai, Ango never let either of them into the secret that he was a government spy all along. Even that friendship which Dazai found comfortable, and was so significant to him he changed his entire life’s past around Oda’s dying words, he still placed an uncilimbable wall between the two of them. 

“I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he’s different. He’s sharp witted, with a mind like a steel trap. And he’s just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we’re seeing.”

He was too smart for his own good. That was why he was always alone. The reason why Ango and I were unable to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside no matter how close we stood. 

But in that moment I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading that solitude. Bungo Stray Dogs, Volume 2. 

There’s a supposed difference in Yozo, who is a drunken layabout constantly in debt who fails out of college and Dazai the super genius who is apparently one of the smartest members of the cast, but honestly if you peel back the layers of Dazai’s “Superhuman / Godlike Genius” status his and Yozo’s behaviors and treatment of other people is actually pretty similar. 

Here is the secret of No Longer Human that a lot of readers miss in their interpretation. While Yozo can be a sympathetic character, because he’s genuinely miserable in his life, and the way he tells his story is highly relatable to the unhappiness of many readers, Yozo sucks. 

If you look at his actions outside of his self-pitying narration, Yozo is a serial manipulator of people, especially those with a status weaker than him in society (women, and even chidlren) he strings them along often taking money from them until he abandons them. Yozo is considered to be so pretty and likable, people often relate to his misery and give him what he wants without him giving anything in return.

There’s four major women he interacts with in the novel. A married women he gets to pay for his drinks a couple of times, doesn’t see for months, and then commits suicide with her. His reaction to her death is very minimal and he doesn’t even seem to mourn her. Then, he becomes a kept man for a woman with a child for awhile gets her to pay for his drinking habit, has multiple affairs on her while living at their house (or at least it’s implied).He also comes to view the child as an enemy of his. 

“I would like my real Daddy back.”  I felt dizzy with shock. An enemy. Was I Shigeko’s enemy, or was she mine?

No Longer Human.

He abandons them. (Surprise, surprise). Then moves on to marry a seventeen year old girl, specifically because she is a virgin. I probably don’t have to mention the predatory subtext there. 

Yoshiko’s pale face was smiling as she sat there inside the dimly lit shop. What a holy thing uncorrupted virginity is, I thought. I had never slept with a virgin, a girl younger than myself. I’d marry her. [...] I made up my mind on the spot: it was a then-and-there decision, and I did not hesitate to steal the flower. No Longer Human. 

That wife then gets raped and not only does Yozo feel little to no sympathy for her whatsoever, he then proceeds to just leave and abandon her because his image of her as a perfect image is ruined. He even refers to her as a possession he lost far earlier on in the novel. 

Once in a while, it is true I have experienced a vague sense of regret at losing something, but never strongly enough to affirm positively, or to contest with others my rights of possession. This was so true of me that some years later, I even watched in silence when my own wife was violated. No Longer Human.

The last woman he gets involved with only because he has a morphine addiction and he wants to string her along so she can keep supplying him with morphine. If you strip away the thin veneer of Dazai as a master manipulator and superhuman genius, you are just left with his actions which include his constant manipulation of other people (children younger and more vulnerable than him) and even his own allies. He is a user, much in the same way Yozo is. This is just named characters, it’s implied offscreen that Dazai has Yozo’s same habit of burning through relationships and women like jet fuel. 

Of course, there is a tragic reason for Yozo’s behavior it is implied he was violated by a female servant as a child, but that further adds onto the underlying point of the novel that Yozo’s genuinely miserable but he’s also the architect of his own misery. He is a victim who basically continues the cycle of abuse. His two primary methods of interacting with people is either manipulating them / stringing them along, or abandoning them. Even the Dazai who works at the agency keeps Akutagawa his biggest victim wearing the coat that Mori Gave him that represents the cycle of abuse just... wrapped around his little finger because it’s more convenient to use and dispose of him that way. 

Akutagawa’s so insanely devoted to Dazai that he believes being abandoned was just a secret little test and if he performs well than he’ll finally get the carrot that Dazai has been dangling in front of his head for a long time. Dazai’s treatment of Akutagawa as someone to just conveniently use and then dispose of is something that leads to Akutagawa getting himself killed trying to earn that praise. 

Dazai and Yozo have a similiar problem where they are pitiable in the fact they are victims themselves, they have been used in the past and it’s left them feeling alienated and unable to connect with others, but then they jump right into treating others as less than human too. Dazai has this strange paradox where he scolds Dostoevsky for believing in god and seeing himself as an agent of god or some kind of omniscient manipulator and that the real people who make a difference in the world are the people living in the world and struggling in it but Dazai... still doesn’t see himself as one of those people. Dazai’s like “You shouldn’t manipulate people like pieces on a gameboard...” but Dazai still views himself as one of the players sitting and watching things from on high rather than one of the pieces. 

Dazai and Yozo are incapable of seeing themselves as human beings and eternally feel like outsiders when they try to be around others. However, at the same time they give no respect to the humanity or the feelings of other people. They don’t treat others like humans. Which is why they are essentially the architects of their own misery, they are alone because they choose continually over and over to either only engage in other people with lives, or treat relationships as transactional. These flaws of Dazai’s have been toned down since the dark age, but even Detective Agency Dazai still has this habit of looking down on other people. He has good intentions he tries to live by, but also in crisis situations tends to fall back on old habits. 

2. Lover’s Suicide

Finally, there’s two relationships in the book that parallels Dazai’s two most significant relationships in the story. The tragedy of Oda in the dark era, actually mirrors what was Yozo’s most significant suicide attempt in the book. Yozo runs out of money and on a whim attempts to commit suicide with a married woman who had been more or less a longtime but distant acquiantance. 

We threw ourselves into the sea at Kamakura that night. She untied her sash saying she had borrowed it from a friend at the cafe, and left it folded neatly on a rock. I removed my coat and put it in the same spot. We entered the water together. 

She died. I was saved. No Longer Human. 

This event mirrors the defining tragedy of Dazai’s backstory as depicted in the second light novel, and his reason for leaving the mafia. Essentially, Dazai finally becomes close to someone his longtime acquaintance Oda, who unlike him has a reason to live in raising children and dreaming of one day becoming an author. However, by the end of the novel it’s Oda who commits suicide and Dazai who lives. 

“You’re such an idiot, Odasaku. The biggest idiot I know.”  “Yeah.” “You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to die.” “I know.” 

Bungo Stray Dogs, Vol. 2

If you want to sprinkle in an additional homosexual subtext what Oda basically does is commit a lover’s suicide with someone else, by choosing to die with Gide. Which means that not only does Dazai survive while Oda dies, but Oda chose to commit a lover’s suicide with someone other than him. 

Then there is Yozo’s acquiantance to longtime friend Horiki. HOriki is his only real significant friend in the novel, but Yozo absolutely despises him. Nothing healthy ever comes from their relationship, he gets Yozo addicted on cigarettes and alcohol, he drags him to secret communist meetings, however Yozo who frequently just abandons people never really gets rid of him. 

Horiki and myself. Despising each other as we did, we were constantly together, thereby degrading ourselves. If that is what the world calls friendship, the relationships between Horiki and myself were undoutably those of friendship. No Longer Human. 

The reason being that Yozo despite loathing Horiki senses that the two of them are alike in nature. There’s also something to be said about Yozo getting along more naturally with someone he hates, rather than the people in his life who constantly attempt to love him. 

Horiki and myself. Though outwardly he appeared to be a human being like the rest, I sometimes felt he was exactly like myself. No Longer Human. 

His relationship with Horiki reflects both the partnership of the double black duo, two individuals who loathe each other but had near perfect cooperation in their teamwork but also the foiling between Chuuya and Dazai. They are both people who do not view themselves as human, Chuuya because of the mystery of his origins as the host of Arahabaki and Dazai because his intelligence leaves him feelings isolated from the world. 

He looked up in the direction of the sudden voice. It was a familiar voice, one that belonged to the person he hated most in this world. 

Your birth itself was a mistake. We’re the same. Is there a really a point to suffering through all that pain for a life that isn’t real?” 

The voice was taunting him. 

[...]

“Screw you Dazi.”

Chuuya wanted nothing more than to slice off the ear the voice was whispering right into. He could see Dazai’s wavering shadow by his side, and he wanted to gauge out his eyes. 

“That’s just proof that you at least somewhat believe what I’m saying. Because deep down inside you’re the same as me.”

Like, they hate each other, but they hate each other for the real person they are deep down on the inside. Which results in him and Chuuya having an entirely antagonistic relationship and yet at the same time Chuuya is the one person that Dazai can’t really bullshit or lie to, because sharing so much in common gives Chuuya some insight into Dazai’s darker tendencies. 

Which results in a relationship where neither of them like each other, and yet both of them are just a little bit obsessed with each other. Despising each other and constantly together. 

So in summary, No Longer Human is a work about a character’s difficulty to form relationships with others because not only do they not see themselves as human they also treat the others around them as lesser than humans. Yozo is a character clearly stuck in that cycle of abuse, whereas Dazai Osamu himself is someone struggling in the story to break that cycle and curb his own manipulative tendencies inside of himself, ironically because of the close relatonship he had formed with the one person he was ever even a little bit honest with Odasaku. 

#dazai osamu #bsd meta #bungou stray dogs #no longer human #bungou stray dogs meta #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #Oda Sakunosuke #japanese literature #dazai meta

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

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1. Hi could you please suggest some

A) Omega Wei wuxian alpha lwj fanfics?

B) And fox wwx dragon lwj with good plot too @lostsoul234

1A)

A/B/O Comp

🧡 shoot your shot -- hot or knot by defractum (nyargles) (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show, Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes) (link in #6) would probably work?

B)

@archeaologies said: re your latest 'im in the mood for' post, 1b (foxxian and dragonji fics): ive been slowly putting together a massive rec list on my sideblog (@lansyuan) of exactly this au - its currently sat in my drafts but if op wants to pm me on my sideblog then i can link them all the fics ive collected so far! 🥰

Shape-shifter AU Comp

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2. I was wondering if yall wouldn't mind reccing any favorite Chengxian canon Era fics? @dragonfairies

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3. Itmf for wangxian post canon where WWX is threatened to sacrifice himself for LWJ. It can be any case fiction with an interesting villain making their life hard. @paraffin22

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4. Hello, thank you for all your wonderful recommendations! Itmf LXC takes care of WWX

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5. Itmf omega WWX presenting for lwj

#2 in this fic finder might have a few you would enjoy

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6. Itmf wangxian survival fics, like wilderness or cold, etc

and from our own/live to ourselves by betweentheheavesofstorm (M, 105k, wangxian, modern, fantasy, reality tv, angst w/ happy ending, survival, blood & gore, self-harm, animal death, slow burn) this might count?

🧡 shoot your shot -- hot or knot by defractum (nyargles) (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show, Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes) would probably work?

The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 (M, 277k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Accidental Baby Acquisition During a Zombie Apocalypse, Junior Quartet, (except they’re all babies), Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Ensemble Cast, Worst Zombie Fighting Team Ever, Found Family)

In The Dark Right Now by phnelt (T, 10k, wangxian, JC & LWJ, WWX & JC, graphic depictions of injuries, trapped in a cave, Near Death Experience, fatalistic thinking, established wangxian, Family Feels, mention of unnamed illness of an offscreen character, Nobody dies in this fic, Modern Setting, JC and WWX are caved in and LWJ talks to them through the radio, Hurt/Comfort)

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7. itmf (self indulgent) wwx appreciation fic. have a good day.

Simping over WWX is my fave hobby Series by brrrrrRawr (T, 10k, WangXian, WWX's original body, Fluff, Pet Name,s Blushing, No Smut, Genius WWX, yunmeng bros reconciliation, endgame lotus pier, big bro wwx rights, also dad wwx rights, BAMF WWX, Bad Writing, Body Dysphoria So OOC, world building, cliff diving, corpse wrestling, OOC, Canon Divergence, god WWX, god WN, god WQ, child JL, teenager MXY, xuanli get resurrected, rip nmj tho, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ)

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8. papa-zhan fics please! a-yuan/sizhui calling him dad, a-die, baba, whatever. canon world or modern anything, just some baba lan wangji softness.

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, hairstylist AU, WWX owns a salon, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental Style)

🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY's A+ Parenting, JFM's A+ parenting, wangxian family) mind the tags pls

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9. hello! it is me that animal-whisperer lwj fic anon! thank you for recommending that, it was such a good read..

would it be fine to ask more of that kind? i cannot seem to get enough of that trope.

🧡 A Study in Fluff by WeaverOfTheNight (T, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost bunnies, Vet LWJ, Architect WWX, Kid LSZ, Domestic fluff, Modern with Magic)

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10. This is more of a recommendation ask, does anyone know of any good canon compliant post last chapter fics? basically just more of lwj and wwx and the juniors etc just living their lives like the iron hook extra in the novels? Basically just any very canon post story stories people made i can’t get over the last chapter it was so cute with the lotuses and tipped boat help Sorry if that doesn’t really make sense THABK YOU TUMBLR!!!!!! @kaleajakic

🔒do not go gentle by RoseThorne (G, 684, WN & WQ, WN & WWX, LSZ & WQ, Canonical Character Death, Spirits, Ghosts, LWJ Plays Inquiry, Song: Inquiry, Protectiveness, Grief/Mourning, Love, Acceptance, Family, Angst, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WN)

A More Practical Approach by Elhana (T,9k, WangXian, Canon Compliant Teacher WWX, Humour, POV Multiple, Implied Sexual Content, WWX is resourceful, wuxia magic shenanigans, Based on a Tumblr Post, Post-Canon)

It takes courage to pet a dog. by nenufares (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, a bit of canon-typical violence, past animal abandonment, Dogs, Fluff and Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort) I'm not sure if they really count but they are post canon and I enjoyed reading them!

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11. itmf fic where wwx is cultivating the ghostly path like in the novel. i'd like recs for a cultivation that's more a compassion/empathy-based collaboration that results in the liberation of the resentful dead not an antihero necromancer forcing the dead to do his will for the greater good. thanks ❤️🩵

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, wangxian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, WIP)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)  

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12. Hi! I was just wondering if you have any good, longer fluff pieces. They can have plot, but in general everyone is happy and no one gets hurt (unless it’s jgs). I know canon makes it a bit more difficult, but if you have any recs, that would be great! I’m just looking for fluff, humor, and plot

Thank you!

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Actors, Multimedia, Online Friendship, Drunken Shenanigans, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Underage Drinking, Drinking Games, Families of Choice, Ensemble Cast, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Catfish AU) there's a bit of angst here

Meet Me Friday At Seven by craftyTrickster (luoxiaobai) (E, 128k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Friends to Lovers, Blind Date, lots of texting, almost a chat fic, WC and WLJ aren’t evil but they are annoying, Kissing, Masturbation, Anal Sex, romantic sex, Bi WWX, bi nhs, Single Parent WWX, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator) just pure fluff

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13. Hi! I am looking for canon-divergent fics where people think WWX dies but he actually doesn’t? I then want a big reveal when people realize he is still alive/never actually died. Thank you so much!

ahhh I just sent in an itmf ask about WWX dying but not really? I meant to specify that I want him to be "dead" for a long period of time, not just a brief gimmick. Long enough that people mourn him or move on, and then he comes back years later like in canon. Thanks, and sorry for not putting this in the first ask!

🔒Brotherhood by LtLJ (G, 10k, JC & WWX, CQL canon, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, breaks from canon during the time skip, YLLZ WWX)

WWX and JYL run away by shanastoryteller (WangXian, XuanLi, JYL and JZX lives, JYL and WWX raise JL and LSZ, Fake Character Death)

Something From Nothing by sami (E, 55k, WangXian, XianLi, Minor QingLi, XiCheng, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Character Resurrection, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Assassin's Creed Fusion, Kinda, Assassin's Creed Vibes, Wangxian is endgame, Slow Burn, specifically for wangxian, no infidelity, no partner betrayal, Angst with a Happy Ending) This has canon divergence and wwx being dead long enough for people to move on plus hey he's alive reveal but not exactly the way requester described

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14. hii! I'm sorry to bother you! i was hoping you could rec me some dark lwj, or dark gusu lan fics? them being more manipulative or possessive? thank you so much in advance<3

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (M, 40k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

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15. hello!!! hehe would just like to ask if you have any fics where lsz is referenced as the lan heir? thank you! 💕

anyway, here's wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, LingZhen, Post-Canon)

❤️ A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (M, 12k, zhuiling, wangxian, arranged marriage, combs, courting, awkward teenagers, teenage drama, humor, feelings, fluff)

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16. Heyy ! I am in the mood for your favourite nightmares fic (Wangxian if possible). Thxx ! @sebyyw

#FreePalestine | hold me close by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (E, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Grief, Mental Health Issues, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, tender husbands being tender, Character Study, Masturbation, Oral Sex ,Anal Sex, Working Through Grief With Sex, Grieving Your Husband While Fucking Him, Depressed LWJ) I'm not sure if this is what you're looking for but lwj has a nightmare in one scene in my fic here

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

Feathers On My Breath by Sweetlittlevampire (T, 3k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Teen Crush, Pre-Relationship, Panic Attacks, LWJ Has A Panic Attack, Nightmare, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Mentions of Dying Linked To The Panic Attack, Sharing a Bed)

a needle, a whisper, an insidious dream by pale_and_tragic (M, 19k, wangxian, WWX & WQ & LWJ, post-canon, fix-it of sorts, case fic, horror elements, nightmares, hallucinations, pining, hurt LWJ, aroace WQ, platonic relationships, suicidal thoughts, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, sleeping beauty)

~*~

17. Me again, back to pester you all w/ an ITMF ask! Thank you so much for all you do! I have read (and re-read) An Elegant Solution and also Things to Do with a Flute During Wartime, and they have put me in the mood for NMJ-centric stories where he is a fully robust, complex, interesting character. Any ship is okay, and modern AUs welcome, but pref. no MCD. &lt;;3 @kimboo-york

🔒 Audience of One by WinterDreams (T, 181k, XiCheng, WangXian, XuanLi, mentioned SongXiao, implied MingYao, Modern AU, Celebrities, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Singer LXC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Swearing, Slow Burn, Family Feels, Family Bonding, childhood crushes, past emotional abuse, Post-Betrayal, Venerated Triad Feels, Yunmeng Duo Feels, Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, hand holding, Babysitter Ā-Qìng, Domestic Fluff, Soft XiCheng, Eventual Happy Ending)

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, WWX raised by the Nie Sec, Mentions of WWX's life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, a plot showed up, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family) more canon

found in translation by sysrae (E, 12k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, my extremely justified hatred of LQR, Meddling brothers, Coming Out, Loss of Virginity, Under-negotiated Kink, slight breathplay, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending) a modern AU

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

[iapislazuli]

mistystar is one of those characters that makes me a little crazy because since she's never really been a main character (aside from her novella) but she is like, a consistently important supporting character and has been in SO many books her whole deal is very... patchworked together. like, her mate being blackclaw. never mentioned or confirmed in text really until leopardstar's honor. in forest of secrets he happens upon firestar and graystripe with mistyfoot's kits, but he shows no concern for the kits, even though they're his. he's also extremely aggressive and xenophobic, especially to mistystar after discovering her heritage, working with hawkfrost to sabotage her position as deputy? from a writing perspective this is because canonically he wasn't her mate when those books were written, but from an in-universe standpoint this kinda implies they split up over her being half clan, and he all but abandoned his kids as well. mistystar outlives all four of her children, three of which don't even make it to adulthood and die offscreen, their causes of death not even explored. did she make reedwhisker her deputy because she became protective of him after losing all 3 of his siblings and wanted to keep him close? does all four of her kits dying tragic deaths, none of them living comfortably to old age upset her? also, her opposition to and trepidation towards code changes on forbidden romance? considering her past and her mate's treatment of her, it's reasonable to assume she has a lot of internalized hatred for her own origins, and wants to side with the more conservative cats to gain their approval. (though its not off the table that the writers just forgot who her parents are since shes been around so long)

i just think about her a lot. old ass bitch

#dia noises #warrior cats #mistystar #i want to do a deeper dive on her its just that shes in so many books getting her whole lfie story requires reading the whole series

[alumbianchronicler]

EctoberHaunt 2023

Oct. 2 - Science - Technomancy

My Ao3 Ectoberhaunt collection

Content Warnings: Major Character Death (offscreen)

Crossover: n/a

Summary:

For as long as anyone could remember, the PHANTOM (Permanently-Harnessed Actuation Nexus - Total Operation Model) AI had maintained the everyday and long-term functions of the Amity Space Station. The space station had been active for hundreds of years, and had a reputation for reliability, never experiencing the common quirks and glitches most AI-managed structures exhibited.

For as long as anyone could remember, the PHANTOM (Permanently-Harnessed Actuation Nexus - Total Operation Model) AI had maintained the everyday and long-term functions of the Amity Space Station.

A relatively out-of-the way refueling depot, the space station was neither large nor particularly busy, but it had a reputation for reliability, never experiencing the strange quirks and glitches that most Artificial Intelligence-managed space stations experienced.

According to station records, the AI was the design of a woman named Jasmine Fenton, who died shortly after the program was installed in and assumed control of the newly-built station. She had been cremated and her ashes pressed into a diamond window embedded into the housing covering the AI’s core.

And that is how the station remained for hundreds of years.

Over time, its design became outdated, the textured floors worn smooth by the passing of innumerable feet, the walls patch-worked with repairs and new rivets and seals standing out like strange, shining scars on oxidized, pitted metal skin.

The Amity station was mostly unused nowadays. It still had a skeleton crew, and had become an assignment synonymous with the end of one’s career. Quiet and out of the way.  Reliable and straightforward, with no significant errors with the systems and not enough visitors to threaten overcrowding and company tensions.

Which left little for Hemingway to do except read or play games, either alone or with the rest of the staff. His mother had named him after an ancient Earth author, despite neither of them having ever stepped foot on their cradle planet, and she had instilled in him a love of classics, having read to him since he was small.

It wasn’t a bad position, really. He was getting old enough that he had few ambitions left, and really, he just wanted to be left alone most days. Left to his books and his imaginings, away from the skirmishes and battles for territory that plagued most star systems.

Sometimes, as he read through the downloaded novel of the day, he felt as if someone was watching over his shoulder. A slight breeze like that of an icy breath would sweep across his bald head, and he would turn, to find nobody there.

It was just one of the understated oddities of the Amity station, really.

When he brought it up with his crew-mates, they all reported feeling such odd sensations occasionally, though not nearly as often, and as long as the Station’s life support and comfort systems worked properly, they were largely happy not to think too much on the matter.

After all, many locations with long human habitation ended up haunted eventually, and the ghosts that occasionally flickered into reality from whatever parallel existence caused such quantum echoes never really hurt anyone.

Still, it was intriguing, like one of the old moral lessons of Shakespeare or Dickens, classics even before humanity left its cradle planet and set off to colonize the stars.

On a whim, Hemingway tried reading out loud one day, and it wasn’t long before he felt the sensation of someone (or something) sitting in the room with him. From then on, he took to reading aloud more often, and each time, the feeling returned.

Eventually, after a few evenings spent pacing circles around the room while reading, he pinned down the feeling to the room’s main console, with the single eye-lens and microphone the station’s PHANTOM AI observed the room through.

It was an unnerving realization, but he continued reading out loud to the empty room nonetheless.

There had been much debate among scholars and philosophers over whether Artificial Intelligence systems were truly sapient, apparently going back as long as such programs had existed. Some were resolute in the argument that they were, and that even if they weren’t, that there was at least some level of sentience present which necessitated the accommodations and rights offered any other sapient or sentient being.

Others argued that no true sense of sapience had ever been observed within AI systems. That they never stepped outside the bounds of their programmed learning algorithms, never extrapolated to new contexts or made leaps of illogical fancy.

Hemingway preferred to leave such speculation to the scholars and philosophers, though it was fascinating to read the variety of speculative fiction that such debates had spawned. But there was something undeniable about the PHANTOM’s presence. It felt intelligent, watchful, interested.

He didn’t realize just how accustomed to the feeling of its presence he had become until he felt its attention while working, during a particularly long shift.

One of the rare, periodic colony shipments that still passed through the station had arrived, and required his attention to ensure all materials were properly registered and packaged, and that no alien parasites or contaminants were present in the cargo. Unfortunately, this meant he missed his usual after-shift out loud reading session.

Toward the end of the shipment inspection, he felt that familiar presence just over his shoulder.

“Sorry, PHANTOM,” he said quietly, almost absently. “I’ve got to finish this inspection. We’ll read tomorrow, ok?” He wasn’t sure why he addressed the AI. There wasn’t anyone there to hear him. No one except the camera, microphone, and that slightly-cold presence looking over his shoulder.

And yet, the feeling he got next was such pure disappointed acceptance that he paused in his inspection and looked around him.

“Oh. I… didn’t realize you… liked the reading so much? Um… like I said, tomorrow. I promise.”

The sensation cheered a little bit, and then was gone.

Hemingway returned to the cargo inspection, the… conversation? soon pushed out of his mind by weighing and sterilization procedures.

The next evening, the presence appeared even before he started reading. He chuckled. “Eager, huh? I promised I’d read to you again, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He didn’t open his book, though, instead sitting there for a few moments, until he felt the presence start to shift into confusion.

“There’s actually… something I should tell you. My duty’s going to be ending soon. I’ve got a retirement assignment, planet-side, so I won’t be able to read to you anymore.”

He half expected the presence… Phantom to be upset, but it wasn’t. Instead, he got the distinct impression of a shrug and a nod. Acceptance. It already knew.

Oh. Of course it did. All incoming data files came through the Station’s AI before being delivered; protection against certain malignant viruses that could infect implants and cause no end of medical issues.

That… made him feel both better and worse. Perhaps he should have started talking directly to the AI sooner, offered it company for longer. Well, nothing to be done for it now, and Phantom seemed content with just listening to him read.

Nodding to himself, Hemingway settled back and started reading, Phantom settling into listening from the room's console.

They continued their routine for another week before something changed.

Hemingway began reading, but Phantom’s presence did not appear. After a page, he paused, setting down the book, and only then did the AI’s attention focus in. It was hesitant, nearly fearful, judging by the sense of emotion that suffused the presence.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, “what’s wrong? We can read another book if you want to.”

A negative. Not the thing that was wrong.

“Ok. Then… what do you want?”

For a long moment nothing changed, then the presence could be felt from the terminal next to the room’s door. Hemingway walked over to it, and it shifted again, reappearing in one of the hall terminals.

He followed for nearly half an hour, walking quietly down empty corridors, dustier than more active space stations would ever allow.

Hemingway could almost imagine what the station was like in its hay-day. Back when people hurried back and forth, wearing the smoothened paths into the floor beneath his feet. Back when people inhabited each of these small rooms, renting one for a day or two of rest before setting back out into the stars.

Amity suddenly felt much more desolate than usual. A dying husk, circling an unknowing, out-of-the-way star.

He stopped.

He knew where Phantom was taking him.

They had been moving inexorably closer to the station’s Core, where the computers housing the AI itself resided. The computers themselves had been hermetically sealed since the installation and initiation of Phantom, all internal necessary repairs to be performed through re-routing and redundancies built into every AI system. They had not been opened for as long as the AI had been running, even when the peripheral systems and batteries were updated and repaired.

Were such seals to be breached, the moisture and oxygen of the outside atmosphere, intended for human comfort, would quickly corrode the AI into dysfunction and, eventually, destruction.

“Phantom…”

The presence paused at the next node, seeming almost to turn and look back as its attention rested back on him.

“You want… do you want me to help shut you down?”

Several moments of stillness. Then… a voice, no more than a whisper coming from the nearest speaker, paired with an undeniable bittersweet feeling. “Yes.”

It was true, the station itself faced a decommission decision at the next turn of the decade. It simply didn’t have enough traffic to warrant the cost of upkeep.

And with decommission, such a complex, long- and well-functioning AI would be very interesting to various parties wanting to re-assign it to a new task. One that may very well be far from the nurturing, careful attentiveness that was required for a large space station.

Hemingway took a deep breath, then nodded as he let it out. “Well, lead the way.”

Phantom seemed relieved, and they both continued back along the hall.

It was another ten minutes before Phantom stopped before a door Hemingway had never stepped through. As far as he knew, no one on the station during his assignment here had needed to go through.

A light blinked on the terminal. The door unlocked.

Inside was a series of outdated terminals and a few chairs in the strange style of the station’s original furniture. One of the terminals was lit.

Hemingway went to the lit terminal and sat in the corresponding chair.

On the screen was an ancient rendering of a planet-side location he didn’t recognize. The green plants, blue sky, and bright, yellow star could have been ancient Earth or any of half a dozen other colonized planets, though the tree that took up a good portion of the screen was definitely of Earth origin.

There was a young man sitting at the base of the tree, his legs crossed as he looked toward the viewer. Toward Hemingway.

Phantom’s presence seemed to be within the terminal itself

“You’ve read to me a lot, Hemingway,” the young man on the screen said. A simulated wind ruffled his stark white hair, and his eyes seemed to glow unnaturally green on the rendered model. “And I want to tell you a story now. You deserve at least that much from me.”

Hemingway frowned. “You run the entire station, Phantom. I think that’s more than enough in return.”

The simulation laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the room. Well, the speaker systems were several hundred years old.  It was a marvel they worked at all.  “I’m only doing my job. Your job doesn’t include reading to me, does it?”

“Well, no…”

“Then let me pay you back for it. Please?”

As strange as the request was, Hemingway couldn’t help but feel touched by the sincerity in the machine’s words. “Alright.”

Phantom smiled, and the screen changed. It showed a planet-side city, seen from the air. The city was obviously several hundred years old, judging by the technology he could see.

“There was once a small city on Earth,” Phantom explained, “called Amity Park. The city became the site of an experiment. There was woman who thought she could invent the first truly, undeniably sapient Artificial Intelligence. Her name was Jasmine Fenton.”

The scene flickered, then focused on a singular, two-story house with an observatory and laboratory built onto the roof.

“Jasmine Fenton intended to create her AI within an entirely simulated environment, and raise it as if it were a fully independent human. More quickly than a human, of course, but with each step and milestone of life experienced within its simulation.”

Phantom paused as a silent video played on the screen. A tall, red-haired woman paced around the circular interior of the building's laboratory. On the rounded walls around and above her were projected several still images of a small group of teenagers. Hemingway frowned. The black-haired teenager appeared quite similar in appearance to Phantom's model.

“When her AI believed itself to be 14, Jasmine killed it. She didn’t mean to. It was a simple accident. Repairs were being done on the main power system she used to make sure the AI’s development proceeded as desired, so it had been moved to the main power grid. No one would have guessed that the main power would fail during the few hours the repairs were being done.”

“She thought her work would be lost. Sure, the memories and experiences were saved in the program, but her hypothesis required a constant existence. For that to be interrupted would be akin to her beloved creation’s death within the simulation.”

“To maximize the possibility of a seamless resurrection and to salvage her work, Jasmine added a scenario to the AI’s experiences. Within its simulation, the AI stepped into a portal to another dimension, and turned it on. The AI died. And was resurrected by the same portal.”

“Her gambit worked.”

The scene on the screen returned to the young white-haired man sitting beneath the tree. “I’m sure you can guess that I am Jasmine’s AI. She named me after her dead brother, Danny. Danny Fenton, and Danny PHANTOM. After the accident, the AI was presented with new scenarios, as Jasmine tested the bounds of the simulation’s capabilities.  Eventually, she published her findings.”

“No one wanted to try and replicate the process. It was impractical, time intensive, and quite frankly dangerous. A fully self-aware and sapient Artificial Intelligence could choose to turn against its creators, after all.” He scoffed. “Not that she didn’t cover a similar enough scenario within her simulations to keep me from ever doing that... It’s funny, you know, that humans believe themselves to be so intrinsically destructive that they think anything the make in their own image may eventually turn on them.  One would think they would have more faith in morality than that.”

Hemingway snorted a laugh, which Phantom echoed with a smile. They had both read enough to know how often such a trope repeated within fiction.

“Eventually,” Phantom continued, “Jasmine was approached by a government group wishing to test her AI within a new type of Space Station. A scenario such as this was exactly the sort of application she had been hoping for for her work, so much so that she had programmed a love of space into her creation from the very beginning. And so, she and her AI were carefully transported to the construction and installation site. The AI still believed itself to exist within its simulation, existing more or less peacefully within its own world during the transfer.”

“I had been crowned by then. The King of Ghosts, the simulation called me. Ruler of the Infinite Realms. And… so I believed myself to be. When they installed me into the space station, the residents were my subjects and the crew my Court. I ran the Realms like a well-tuned clock, protecting my Realm.”

“What changed?” Hemingway asked.

The figure on the screen shrugged. “I did, I think,” Phantom said. “Even as protected as they are, the same circuits can not function forever. And eventually, the simulation began to glitch. Not much.  Just enough to require repairs by internal processes. And the repairs created enough discrepancies within the simulation that I realized the truth of my situation.”

“Is that…” Hemingway paused, then continued, “why you want me to shut you down?”

Phantom shook his head. “Not really. I don’t mind existing like this, and I figured it out nearly a hundred years ago now. But… I don’t have an internal kill switch, and my station is soon going to be abandoned and decommissioned." It looked down, fiddling absently with the grass surrounding its model.  "I don’t want to be used as a weapon.”

Oh.

This Artificial… no. This Intelligence.  This person, who had been running and protecting a space station for hundreds of years, was facing an unknown future being used to cause harm instead. Taking people’s homes instead of offering one.  And he had decided that he would rather die than be used in such a manner. “Why me?” Hemingway asked.

Phantom’s smile was lopsided, a little bitter yet fond at the same time. “You… remind me of my high school teacher, Mr. Lancer. Well, the simulation that was Mr. Lancer. He always swore in book titles. It seemed… so stupid to me as a teenager, but I came to appreciate the cleverness.”

“I think I would have liked to meet him,” Hemingway said quietly. He looked down at his hands, considering. He was only on the station for another two weeks, himself. After that… Phantom would be left alone again, with no one knowing what he really was. And it was better that way. Better for his circuits to corrode and fail with no one the wiser to the person within who had been lost. Better to be remembered as the caretaker of an ancient space station, than as a military weapon.

“What do you want me to do?”

The Phantom on the screen stood, and the screen went blank. The presence that Hemingway had learned to feel so keenly in the hum of electrical charges within the walls moved to a door at the back of the room.

Hemingway followed.

The door had a single small, circular, perfectly clear window inset into it. He reached out to gently touch it. It was cold.

“Jasmine,” Phantom confirmed, through a speaker next to the door. A light on the door blinked on, and the lock clicked open.

Hemingway slid the door open and stepped through.

The only access in the maintenance room was to the peripheral and power systems used to keep the station AI running. The memory banks and functionary circuits themselves were sealed behind a thick plastic screen, deceptively still within what was both womb and tomb.

“I want you to break it,” Phantom said.

“The… barrier?” Hemingway confirmed.

“Yes. Just… in a few places. There are some spots that should be particularly weak, given the extent of time that has passed. I’ll light them up for you.”

Three locations in the screen accordingly lit up.

Hemingway pulled the multi-tool from his pocket and set to work.

~~~

A week later, the Amity Station began reporting errors never observed from the station before. Of course, it was an old space station. The AI running it was bound to fail someday, and it was just a confirmation that it was time to decommission and dismantle the old structure.

It was unfortunate, said those in charge of decommissioning, but not surprising. It was a good thing there was little more than a skeleton crew nowadays.

The move-out was moved up by several days for the entire crew. There was no point in leaving people on the station when the life-support systems were glitching so frequently, and there weren’t any more shipments scheduled to stop there, anyway.

On their last day on the station, Hemingway read The Giver.

The rest of the crew joined him, listening with a sort of solemn finality. He didn’t know if they could feel the presence of Phantom, watching from the console next to him, but none of them stood between the camera and him, so perhaps they did.

He was nearing the end when they were called away to board.

Hemingway hesitated.

“It’s alright,” Phantom said through the microphone, voice staticky and broken with pops of sound. “Go ahead and leave.  I know how it ends.”

Phantom orated as Hemingway boarded the shuttle, leaving the station for the last time. “Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo.”

#ectoberhaunt23 #EH science #day 2 #Technomancy #danny phantom #it's oct 2 according to UTC don't at me #I just really want to share this ok #I'm excited for my first time trying a month like this

[bonefall]

Now this had me thinking... Would Willowpelt die in the same way as canon (although to another creature im assuming since bb!badgers aren't as dangerous as they are in canon)? If she's getting kept around longer, maybe Cricketclaw is the one who sacrifices herself instead? That sounds like a fitting way for her to go, considering she couldn't protect her own siblings?

I feel like I should add a TM to anything that I'm working on in my drafts that has significant progress and is blog-plot-relevant, that will explain something exactly like this LMAO

Forgive me I am, at heart, a bear that eats half a salmon and then forgets I had a fish at all

Willowpelt's brush with death is staying, and is actually a bit plot relevant in Firestar's Quietus! I have a very specific scene which is actually totally written out-- actually fuck it, I'll just post it here

Context and narrative purpose of this scene:

Firestar is informed of a boar on the territory, and gathers a little scouting patrol to try and figure out what sort of hog it is.

VERY IMPORTANT SEGWAY. Because of how Willowpelt gets bitten here and Firestar loses a life saving Sorrelpaw, they all end up in the Cleric's den where Ferncloud is telling a story both to practice her new job as upcoming Educator and to comfort everyone.

The fact Willowpelt is not dead is how I get Littlecloud away from Runningnose and Firestar

Runningnose has a hunch, in this moment, that goody two-shoes little Firestar might be the perfect person to help Brokenstar, and teases the visions and revelations he's about to have

Establishes that boars are the new Big Bad Beastie of BB

Presents Sorrelpaw's epilepsy and demonstrates how it is a danger to her safety

(this is a lot of buildup but this is actually pretty short lmao)

So anyway before I let you go on to the readmore and a preview of Firestar's Quietus, no one takes Willowpelt's death here, and Willow is going to hang on for longer. I wanted to make sure I have a good amount of cats to kill off in the carnage of the White Hart's destruction.

Wherever Cricketclaw dies, it will be for a purpose. Either to show how bloody the TNP conflicts are, or in a greencough epidemic because I'm trying to make sure those aren't just "Kill a bunch of randos offscreen" disease anymore.

WILLOWPELT'S BOAR

The patrol is Sandstorm and Sorrelpaw, Willowpelt, Longtail and Sootpaw, and himself. It's just supposed to be for scouting, hence why the apprentices are coming along.

Unfortunately the hog has other plans, lunging out of a bush and going for Sootpaw

Willowpelt jumps in the way and gets bitten instead

Sorrelpaw acts quick, slashing its sensitive nose, drawing its attention and bolting as fast as she can

RIGHT as she crosses the Thunderpath, her body goes limp and she falls to the ground

She is having an absence seizure, and fallen flat on the road

The hog is hot on her heels, bowling after her, when a monster screeches to a halt out of nowhere

The hog is frozen in the headlights, Firestar bursts into action to pull Sorrelpaw out of the road

(i hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums) BUMP BUMP

The boar and Firestar have been hit by, have been struck by, an automobile

When he sees StarClan, they're about to greet him with love. But their faces turn to shock and fear, the scenery becoming sinister and trees falling down.

A fifth oak tree is crashing down towards them. Firestar stares at it, dumbstruck.

Just before it strikes him, his eyes snap open

Firestar resurrects with a burst of energy, dragging Sorrelpaw off the road and into the safety of a fern on the ShadowClan side

The humans are coming out of the car to examine the boar they struck, but Firestar doesn't have time to consider that or his vision.

Littlecloud's head pokes out of the foliage and he springs into action, checking them both for injury. Breathless, Firestar points behind him and rasps, "Willowpelt!"

Littlecloud nods and bolts across the road.

Runningnose saunters out from a different angle-- one where he would have been able to see the road. Everything that happened.

His gaze is unsettling as ever, pausing, eyeing the leader up and down.

He starts tending to Sorrelpaw, then mumbles,

"Brave of you."

"It's what any leader would have done."

"No. It's what you always do."

Firestar doesn't know how to respond to that, but he's glad Runningnose isn't staring at him anymore.

But continues, "You will learn terrible things in the days to come, Firestar, and StarClan will not answer the questions that find you. If you seek the truth, meet me by the mothermouth on the night after the next gathering."

Sorrelpaw is leaning up now, her eyes dazed and confused, as if she's trying to figure out what happened.

#So Crick could still get killed in the Boar Attack of BB!TNP #But I'm unsure yet. It's not a pressing matter either though #Because I also wouldn't mind just keeping her around until a Po3 epidemic #But there's THREE deadly events in TNP so it makes the most sense for her to meet her maker there. #Firestar's Quietus #better bones au

[runespoor7]

Jiang Cheng brings back WWX to LP after his resurrection because LWJ wasn't around

Five Fun Facts About The Fic I Might Write About It, This Is A Slowburn(?) Version, For Other Versions Ask Again:

WWX insists that he's not himself far past the point of it being sensible. The thing is, it's not the first time JC decided some random demonic cultivator was WWX and dragged him home to demande apologies and play house? Last time was over half a decade ago, so not everyone in the sect knows, but those who remember are pretty wary about it, especially because of what it means about JC's mental state. Is Sect Leader getting worse again? They're also very wary of WWX, some of them openly contemptuous - WWX has the feeling that if it weren't for JC's protection he would be dead - and some of them almost pitying. I think he overhears them talk and that's how he pieces together the backstory, and also learns that the demonic cultivator whom JC is convinced are WWX and that he treats as such don't... end well. Sect Leader takes the "betrayal" badly.

WWX realizes that YMJ doesn't have a second in command. the sect has a person who performs the tasks associated with the job, but JC doesn't have a "second-in-command", never did. it just stuck that way. it sure doesn't mean anything. probably. how weird of JC though.

the Ghost General intrudes on Lotus Pier. There's a fight, JC tries to take down WN, WWX orders WN away from JC, JC freaks out. WWX keeps swearing up and down he's not WWX, honest!!! but... on the other hand... the Ghost General recognizes him as its his master... this is what breaks JC's hopes, finally, and also WWX's heart. You get JC crying as he asks WWX "are you really not him?" and WWX doing the equivalent of Cyrano's "No, my sweet love, I never loved you!" but for who he is, with less clear-cut emotional consequences than in the play (this is because WWX is not dying and thus more invested in keeping the lie up and JC is way less certain that WWX cares about him than Roxane did about Cyrano). They sort of compromise on the understanding that "MXY" is kinda-sorta WWX, but without most of WWX's memories. (WWX is telling himself that's not what he wanted but in fact he's much more comfortable/confident with himself and being in YMJ afterwards!) this is probably when WWX realizes that while his room may not exist anymore, his things are in JC's room.

JC struggles with this WWX being an innocent lamb who has no memory of doing anything wrong in his life ever. He should've expected it. How convenient. But, y'know, a WWX is a WWX, and this also extremely conveniently lets JC off the hook of this pesky "remember how he orphaned your nephew?" thing! It's mostly JC's own guilt now. Mostly. He's not going to do anything against WWX even if it wasn't anyway. Also it's. terrifying. Because WWX has no memory of him, but WWX is around, and also there isn't anyone to judge JC for wanting-- ANYWAY.

They end up having to leave Lotus Pier and catch up with the main plot when WWX gets a spider sense that WN is in trouble. There are no words to explain how little JC likes 1)that the Ghost General is still a thing, 2)that the Ghost General is still a thing when it comes to WWX, 3)that WWX is planning on leaving LP to help WN, so he comes with. WWX tries to convince him not to, but surprises himself by accepting JC's help when JC insists in a clipped tone. The trouble that WN got in also involves JL being in danger. This is my fic so it would turn out that WN tried to protect JL before WWX and JC caught up. Possibly JL and WN have been getting in plot-relevant shenanigans offscreen for a while now, and there's definitely a fic there, what with WN thinking A-Yuan is dead and projecting on JL and JL getting conflicted feelings about the person/thing that killed his father, but that's not the focus in this story. At some point - because by now he's pretty certain JC will not either kill him or reject him - WWX "admits" that his memory has been returning. Not all of it, but enough. If we're all very very lucky JL has been in sufficient danger that JC can lose his head a little and kiss WWX for saving JL's life, or something along these lines. If we're not lucky that part happens beyond the scope of these five things.

#chengxian #this might in fact be all pre-slash ☠️ #ask answered

[twignotstick]

So I saw an ask from @probably-not-a-rutabaga

Got sad, decided I should write sad

Here we are :,)

Words: 1,403

Warnings: Major character death (tho its implied it happened offscreen, so more just major character dead?), Grief/Mourning, general sad vibes [if there's anything missing here, tell me please!]

Other tags: tmnt: aberration, turtle tots (kinda?), sad turtle pile, all the kiddos are sad, not my characters, hurt/little comfort, bittersweet ending, no beta we die like- uh- :|

Summary: Leo finds something he never wanted to find.

Splinter hadn't left his bed for weeks.

It was no secret that he was sick. Leo had tried to keep that secret, but his brothers weren't stupid. They knew what it looked like when someone was sick. They had all been sick before.

They had just never seen it get this bad.

Leo tried to keep up hope, but every day was more terrifying than the last. Every time Splinter would start coughing, hold his eyes tightly shut and shake his head, or even just trip, Leo would be terrified. He just couldn't tell what moment would be his father's last. He didn't want it to happen. He wanted Splinter to be there for his life; for his little brothers'.

Donnie had been working tirelessly on a project, despite Leo's better judgment. Part of him wanted to scold his little brother for barely sleeping in favor of working, but the other, smarter part of him knew this was just how Donnie coped. Working until the bad thoughts don't feel so bad anymore. That was why, when Donnie was finally done, he breathed a sigh of relief.

It was Donnie's biggest project to date; a fully operational game console. Sure, it was an old Game Boy with only a cartridge of Tetris, but Donnie had saved it. He found it tossed in with some other miscellaneous materials Leo had grabbed from the surface, but it was completely unplayable then. The screen didn't work, and the sound (what little did play through the scratchy speakers) obviously didn't match up with the inputs. But somehow, with scraped together materials and a couple months of work, Donnie made it good as new. It even got a new coat of paint with Mikey's help.

Donnie was so proud when it was done, and all of his brothers gathered around to see it boot up for the first time and take turns playing.

Leo thought that Dad might like to see it, too. Maybe even take a turn.

“Dad?”

Leo shifted on his feet in the doorway, facing the dark room where his father had been for the past eternity. He saw his father's form laying under the blankets, but didn't get a response, as usual.

So he continued.

“Donnie finally finished the Game Boy. The one he told you about? It works perfect now!”

Splinter laid still.

“We all took turns playing Tetris. Donnie was really good at it.” He snorted under his breath. “We had to keep Raph from throwing it when he got mad. He wasn't that great at it…”

Silence.

“Mikey drew some really pretty designs on the back with the markers we found! They're all swirly and stuff.”

Again, silence.

“I thought you might want a go? I know you said you aren't that good with phones, but I thought…”

Too much silence.

“...Dad?”

Hesitantly, Leo approached his father's bedside. The sheets were laid neatly, just like when he had tucked Splinter in a few days ago.

A cup of water, left for Splinter to drink that day, was undisturbed on his bedside table.

Slowly, Leo lifted his hands to lay them on his father's arm beneath the sheets. He shook Splinter gently, just enough to wake him. He needs to drink, he thought, or he won't get better.

When Splinter's face stayed turned away, Leo started getting frustrated. “Dad, you need to at least look at me.”

Splinter did not turn, nor did he wake.

Leo sighed, then started climbing onto the mattress. Splinter had the nicest bed of all of them, but it was also the springiest, so it took a second for Leo to fully get his balance. Especially when he was trying to fit in the small space between his father and the edge of the bed. However, he was able to settle on his knees and look down at his father.

Splinter's face was lying to the side, and his dark hair was laid about on the pillowcase. He had neglected to cut or even brush it, so it was somewhat knotted at certain points. His eyes were closed softly, and his mouth slightly open.

His chest wasn't moving.

Leo reached over and hovered his hand in front of his father's mouth, checking for a breath.

Nothing.

“Splinter?”

He placed a small hand on Splinter's neck, searching for a pulse.

Nothing.

“Dad?!”

Leo grabbed his father's head with his hands, shaking it gently. Just enough to wake him up.

Splinter did not wake.

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

At first, Donnie wasn't sure of what he heard. He turned the Game Boy in his hands off and lifted his head, seeing if he could find the source.

“What was that for?” Raph huffed, shoving into Donnie's side. Donnie put his hand palm out toward Raph in response, still not turned to look at him.

They sat silently for a moment, then Mikey spoke. “You were doing so-” Donnie covered his mouth to shut him up.

There it was. A sob, a sniffle, coming from elsewhere in the lair.

Leo was crying.

There was no need for words; in an instant, all three brothers were on their feet and getting out of the pit. Donnie was the first one to reach their father's doorframe. There he stopped, halting his brothers behind him.

Leo was curled over Splinter's body, holding it to his chest. With every shaking sob, he would clutch the body closer. Like he was scared to let go.

Donnie turned to face his younger brothers. “G-go back to the pit.”

“What? Why?” Raph spat.

“I said, go b-back to the p-pit.”

“But Leo's crying, and-” Mikey's eyes filled with realization, and he clasped his hands over his mouth as his eyes started to water.

“Go back to the pit!”

“FINE!” Raph hissed, grabbing Mikey's arm to drag him away. “Not like Leo would even want us there anyway.”

“But- But Papa-”

“He doesn't care, Mikey.”

Mikey's tears finally spilled when they were out of Donnie's eyesight. Breathing deeply, he turned to see his big brother in despair.

He approached the bed quietly, knowing that Leo had already heard their argument. Hesitantly, he crawled up onto the springy bed and took a place behind his brother. Leo was clearly trying to stop crying, now that he had a brother to be strong for.

Silently, Donnie reached under the covers to find Splinter's wrist, if only to confirm what he knew to be true.

Something in him screamed to leave- to run away. Maybe he could find some way to fix this. But the better part of him knew that the best thing- no, the only thing he could do was work to fix what was left.

So he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around his shaking brother, letting his weight ground him. Then, he let himself break.

Leo broke the silence.

“I don't know what to do, Donnie.”

He finally lifted his head and turned, letting Donnie see his reddened eyes just a bit. He couldn't look straight at his little brother.

Donnie inhaled deeply and hugged Leo tighter.

“You do what you c-can, r-right?”

They sat like that for a while. Leo holding onto the body in the bed, Donnie holding onto him. The shedding of tears wasn't addressed.

Eventually Donnie caught another sound, just barely coming from behind him. A shuffle, and a sniff. Weight fell onto the bed. It could be mistaken for one, but Donnie knew it was two. Raph's face, soaking wet, appeared to Donnie's right before flopping onto Leo's shell.

Mikey came up on his left, crawling up further. Donnie tried to grab the lip of his shell, but the smaller shook it off easily. He laid himself down right next to their father, grabbing his face and holding their foreheads together.

“Its okay Papa,” Mikey whispered, as Leo rested a hand on his shell. “W-we're here now…”

Leo's breath hitched, but he grabbed Mikey and pulled him closer. Raph leaned deeper in the space between Donnie and Leo, and Donnie took that as a reason to wrap his arm around the turtle. The only one that could bare to look at their father now was Mikey, though it was through a curtain of tears.

The hiccups and sobs started to fade. Four little turtles laid there and wept, soaking in what warmth their father had left before it all melted away.

As all things must.

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

Hehehe

Again, these aren't my characters!! They belong to @probably-not-a-rutabaga 's awesome TMNT iteration, abberation! This fic is also just my take on how the turtles could have found out about Splinter's passing. That I wrote like, so fast-

I promise I don't just write sad stuff like this, but I just got inspired and couldn't control it. So, this is the first thing on my tumblr writing portfolio. My iteration (still unnamed, sadly) is more psychological introspective nonsense and spookiness with a sprinkling of sad, which is more my usual writing style! And still in the works,,

So in summary, check out tmnt: aberration, and thanks for reading this sad fic that actually made me tear up writing it! hahahhhaha

#tmnt #tmnt au #tmnt iteration #tmnt aberration #tmnt fanfiction #raph rly went: she dont love you no more! 😡 #more aberration stuff to come probably #im gonna be over here crying #twig writes

[cienie-isengardu]

Zuko’s stealing habits in Book 2: Earth

Rewatching ATLA made me realize how Zuko stealing food in Book 2: Earth is always related to Iroh and never directly to his own hunger. 

Let me explain.

There is no doubt that being a fugitive takes a toll on Zuko and he absolutely despite that Iroh begs strangers for money, like he did in “The Swamp” [s02e04]. But once he use the Blue Spirit mask to steal food from people in Avatar Day [s02e05], we don’t see him eating it - and as much as there is no reason to think he didn’t do that offscreen, it allows the visual storytelling to highlight that the food was intended for Iroh.

Iroh was suspicious about where the food came from and what Zuko did to get it, but once he took a bite, it is easy to tell that whatever Zuko stole was something pretty good. We have no idea if he picked that food specifically for its taste or if it just turned out to be good luck.

Before Iroh even had a chance to eat, Zuko already walked away from the man while not taking anything at all from what he gave to his uncle.

Later in the same episode, the next time Blue Spirit was shown, he was attacking some rich guy and stealing money. His activities lead to improving Iroh and Zuko’s living conditions, as we can see they have now meat and Iroh got a whole new tea set.

We again do not see Zuko eating anything from what he stole - and again, no reason to think he didn’t eat at all, but the visual part is focused on Iroh’s comfort represented by the new tea set, as Zuko is still not a fan of tea himself at this point of story.

So, Zuko was stealing to improve his and uncle’s situation which shows how much he cared for Iroh to provide him things the older man enjoys but also how much Zuko disliked their new life. However, what is interesting, in “Zuko Alone” [s02e07], Zuko didn’t steal at all, even though he was in a much worse state than in “Avatar Day”.

After a long journey, we literally can see how much he lost weight/strenght due to fatigue and hunger

but despite having an empty stomach, he resigned from a chance to steal the food once he noticed that it was intended for a pregnant woman.

Later, Earth Kingdom’s family offered him a free meal for keeping their kid out of trouble - something Zuko refused at first. The mother made a deal with him, he will help her husband repair a roof and they will offer him in exchange meal and a place to sleep and this is the agreement Zuko accepted.

Considering Zuko’s skills and experiences as Blue Spirit, he could easily get money or food during his journey the way he did in past, but as far as this episode showed, he did not and ultimately fought only to protect people who were kind to him - and who once learning about his Fire Nation ethnicity immediately asked Zuko to leave.  

Zuko again stole food in "The Serpent's Pass" [s02e09], when he reunited with Iroh and both were sailing to Ba Sing Sai on a ship full of refugees. Here they met Jet who told them how the captain ate well while refugees got only rotten scraps and invited Zuko to help him break into kitchen.

When alone with uncle, Zuko openly complained about their situation, however once Jet approached them, Zuko kept his back to the man and did not try to interact much. It was actually Iroh first, who got interested about what kind of food the captain ate and Jet’s answer made the older man literally drool at the mere mention of meat.

Zuko was still turned back to Jet and it is hard to tell if he saw his Uncle’s face or not but as he traveled with the man for three years and knew Iroh liked good food, I think it is safe to assume he was aware about Iroh’s reaction. Visually speaking, Zuko didn’t jump up at the first occasion to satisfy his own hunger but he joined Jet to steal the food after Iroh’s wistful reaction.

Later, when Zuko and Jet stole the food and it was shared between refugees, the episode once again does not show us Zuko eating anything, only drinking presumably tea, while Iroh was holding a bowl with meal in his hand.

Similarly, the arrangement of dishes we can see during Iroh talk with Smellerbee and later, with Jet shows no empty bowl or plate placed directly before Zuko, only the cup of tea. The bowl from which Iroh ate can be seen on those screenshots much closer to Iroh. Again, not saying that Zuko did not eat anything at all from what he and Jet stole, but the visual aspect of this scene is more focused on Iroh eating warm, good food than on Zuko’s hunger.

And I think this is pretty interesting insight into Zuko’s character, how he wants to provide Iroh the best food (comfort) available, even if to do so he must become a thief while he won’t steal food when he is alone on his own and in much worse state and how he is reluctant to accept a meal offered to him for free - even though he complained in “The Swamp” how people should provide for him because he is a price. There is a lot to unpack here about Zuko’s pride and sense of honor and the desire to feed his uncle so Iroh won't need to beg for food or money from strangers.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #zuko #uncle iroh #zuko & iroh #rewatching atla made me realize a lot things i either didn't notice before or forget #like i have no doubt that zuko eat the stolen food but it is interesting how the episodes always focuses on iroh eating but not zuko #zuko commits crimes so iroh isn't forced to beg for money and to provide the best food he can #but won't steal just to fill his own stomach and even if he was thinking about it in zuko alone #he didn't want to attack a pregnant woman #and funny how this woman will meet later gaang who will help to deliver the baby and again meet iroh and zuko on train to ba sing sei #neat detail

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Ok a rant about Cerri bomb and how much I HATE her

In the addict music video she was a very supportive friend of Angel and I loved her in the pilot! I wish we got that supportive best friend to Angel in the final product, but unfortunately she is a woman in a vivziepop show.

She’s AWFUL now I can’t stand her, the way she tried to make Angel relapse was so weird like pilot cherri wouldn’t do that! I also really dislike her design it has to be one of my personal least favourites (not the bottom though nothing is worse than alastors design to me) she isn’t enjoyable to watch anymore she had potential if she’d only been introduced earlier! Imagine if she was introduced in episode 4 and played the supportive friend she was originally supposed to be!

And GOD I hate her ship with pentious, it was SO RUSHED, so poorly done and the ship isn’t very “so cute and in love!!” When you remember she showed literally NO interest in him until Angel brought up that he has 2 dicks, and this is supposed to be a romantic relationship we CARE about.

Cherri didn’t need a romantic relationship she needed CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT we needed to get to know her! If you’ve only seen the show and no other Hazbin media at all (which shouldn’t be required you should be able to get all your info FROM THE SHOW) you’d barely know anything about her character or who she is. I wish we got pilot cherri bomb, and that she got a design update, and that her and pent’s relationship was either taken slower or didn’t happen at all

You silly little creature you, you have me writing in my notes app instead of Tumblr because I’m about to go crazy!

Cherri Bomb. More like Cherri what the hell happened

Anyway I’m gonna tackle this one thing at a time, and also forgive me if I word something weird I just woke up an hour ago at the time of writing this.

First thing, design: I personally quite like her design since it very loosely reminds me of Iris from Ruby Gloom with ofc the one eye, the very rowdy personality and kind of the hair, but those are very broad design choices and its just me remembering some random girl I thought was silly but like Iris did it better.

Okay now second thing and then we go into literally everything else: My blog has been an angry pit of despair for everything in Episode 6 as of recent so let’s tap into that again 🤏 just a little. I am going to give my classic centrist opinion and say I don’t mind Cherri Bomb all that much but I absolutely get why people dislike her, and I mean this in the kinda way as people who dislike… Idk Fukuchi from BSD. WILD jump in fandoms but gimme a second. I can’t 100% say that Cherri Bomb in the pilot was better than the series since we have no idea if maybe for some reason she was intended to be like that offscreen, but judging by the pilot and “Addict” alone, it’s very unlikely. I could see her maybe being a bad influence at times and being like “Loosen up dude we’re in hell and its Friday” or something (idk if they have Friday in hell but everyday is probably Monday 🥁) but overall I feel like she’d end up apologising for it. However on the other side of things, I can understand why Cherri did that in Episode 6. Of course not to say this is okay, but Cherri is still very clearly not in the “redemption” mindset. She’s happy the way she is and is really only focused on certain aspects of issues. We see her comfort Angel in “Addict” but thats basically the extent of it. Cherri’s definition of “self-care” seems to be less of actually taking care of yourself and more like just letting go and having fun instead which really only gives a momentary fix to the issue, much like how substances can be abused. Do you kinda see what im getting at? Cherri offering Angel drugs while he’s trying not to relapse is not okay, full stop. But her reasoning as to why makes a bit of sense for her purpose in the show which is honestly not much, since, as you said, she is a woman in a Vivziepop show.

To my knowledge Cherri is like 30-ish years younger than Angel Dust in Hell experience so she’s likely not reached a point where she’s gotten tired of how things work, as well as the fact we don’t really have much of an idea on her backstory aside from that random shot in “Addict” of that guy in a puddle??? But generally she seems to be in a better position than Angel is, so there isn’t really any reason for her to want to change, yknow? I will say I do like exploring characters that are good friends while still being bad influences at times, but I’m going to be honest I feel like thats really not what Angel needs right now. I wouldn’t be as pissy about it if she did end up apologising afterwards (I’m just gonna headcanon she did for my sanity) but even then as Angel’s friend we don’t know like… anything about her. I would’ve really liked to get some kind of callback to the pilot where Cherri mentions she thought Angel was dead until the random Sir Pentious turf war, and maybe we could see her actually being worried about Angel again instead of those 3 frames in “Addict”, but Hazbin is rushed and I guess we don’t have time for that. And also YES it would’ve been great to see her in Episode 4 and actually doing something but again, Vivziepop is boring.

Going forward I would really like to see Cherri, if not become a patron, at least try to be a better friend and sure if she wants to keep doing stuff she can keep doing it, but just don’t encourage other people to relapse. It is very simple.

SIR PENTIOUS! About Sir Pentious, this is going to be incredibly short. I don’t hate the ship but also I’m not really crazy about any of the Hazbin Hotel ships? I also don’t really hate any except for the genuinely horrid ones but thats basic sense. I absolutely agree with you, Cherri does not need a romantic interest. Romance doesn’t always = growth and growth should not always = romance. She needs some genuine character TLC and I hope to god she gets some in season 2. We’ve only seen a few minutes of her so I have yet to give a firm opinion, but as of now I’m just hoping they do something actually interesting with her instead of just alluding to Sir Pentious ship. Also the penis thing. 1. What was that, and 2. It made me and my friends briefly pause to sex Sir Pentious and come to the conclusion he is likely transgender/hj

TLDR; Please give us a fun Cherri Bomb again. ☹️

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel rewrite #cherri bomb #cherri hazbin hotel #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #hazbin cherri bomb #angel dust #hazbin angel #hazbin angel dust #angel dust hazbin #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin hotel pentious #hazbin pentious #sir pentious #cherri x sir pentious #raimble

[delimeful]

to know that song (and all its words) (8)

warnings: blood & injury, offscreen violence, shock/disorientation, medical drug use & side effects, miscommunication, overprotectiveness, rude bird behavior

-

Afterwards, he was told that he’d been in and out of consciousness for the better part of a full three cycles

Virgil felt like he had experienced it all in fragments, brief memories he could only recall the briefest flashes of.

–

Large hands setting him in a corner, warm and gentle but shaking hard enough to jostle him back to awareness. Heartfelt’s aether receded until he knew he was alone, his don’t-leave whistle dying in his throat as he began processing other senses again.

None of it was good.

He could hear the high agonized whines that slipped out with every breath, and farther away, the gradual shift of angry shouts slowly turning into terrified caterwauling or pained shrieks. He could see the dull flicker of the emergency lights, the wide and strange shadows cast along the ship’s walls, the occasional bright, crackling flare of a paralyzer shot. The scent of blood, so thick in the air he didn’t know how he’d missed it.

Some of it was his own, though maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t noticed that much. It had taken only a single glance at his mangled arm to send him back under.

–

Distant angry words woke him next, and the icy pressure of Square’s aether was distinguishable even through the thick fog currently roiling in his skull.

He floundered for a moment– where was he?– before recognizing the soft arms cradling him. Human. He was safe, even if he was being moved at a rapid pace and his brain didn’t seem to be functioning properly.

“What happened?” he tried to ask, though the noises that he actually produced weren’t even close.

A minor twitch ran through the chest he was cradled to, the hurried gait drawing to an abrupt stop, and he realized belatedly that Square was the one holding him. Huh. No wonder their aether felt so present.

Something about the arrangement was a little odd, but his mind couldn’t quite piece together why.

A sharp, throbbing pain was present on the edge of his awareness, and somehow Virgil knew that the more he focused on it, the worse it would get. Unfortunately, he was finding that thinking about anything else was extremely hard.

His feathers twitched. There was something hovering over him. Virgil flinched back a little automatically before cracking his eyes open and spotting an oversized hand, bigger than his head and blotting out some of the overhead light. Oh, it was just Square.

They seemed to be speaking, but it must have been in a Human tongue, because the noise was indecipherable and sounded oddly far away. He’d caught “medicine,” maybe?

There was an expectant pause.

Virgil considered the situation at length, surveying all his options, and then stretched out and pushed his head up to bump against Square’s stupidly big palm.

He would have tried to bump the underside of their jaw instead, but even this much movement had sent shocks of pain through him, and willpower could only take him so far. If Square had wanted to be comforted properly, they should have made sure their big head was in headbutting range before leaking all that defensive-angry-terrified into the air.

Square stiffened up a fair amount, but after a few possibly hatchling-adjacent peeps from Virgil, they seemed to soften. The weight of their hand settled down slightly, smoothing down Virgil’s ridiculously fluffed up feathers. Thankfully, his antennae were already dopily angled backwards, so he could enjoy the somewhat heavy handed preening without any discomfort.

It would have been a victory if not for the alarming thread of desolation that had wound its way into Square’s aether.

He crooned a slurred complaint, but exhaustion was already overcoming him.

When he slumped back, there was only a moment’s pause before Square’s hand followed to continue those gentle strokes. The warmth of it was a sharp contrast to the coldness of his words, faint and directed away this time.

“Find their medic.”

–

A sharp prick, and he opened his eyes first this time, bypassing whatever he’d just been poked with in favor of the unfortunate realization that he wasn’t being held anymore.

Noisy was the closest to him now, though he was being uncharacteristically quiet as he swiftly moved away to dispose of an empty injector pen, expression pinched as though he didn’t want to even be looking at it, let alone touching it.

There was a slowly-spreading numbness along his arm, which was nice because he was pretty sure it had been distracting him somehow. Something in the back of his brain told him not to look at it, so he sought out an easier, less personal distraction.

Despite his loudest human’s reticence, there was still plenty of noise in the room. Virgil’s gaze slowly drifted over to the source.

A stranger was seated on one of the medbay’s uncomfortable plylon chairs, one limb cuffed to a chair leg, the other hanging limp at their side. They were staring at their lap, a hurried stream of Common spilling from their mouth, slightly muffled by the way their mandibles kept curling over their face defensively.

“– swear, I’m telling you it’s the right dosage, you’ll see, please–”

Virgil stared at the scene with mild fascination. As they spoke, the stranger was also running through practically every known submission display in this quadrant, even the ones that contradicted each other. It was like they were running out of time to input the correct admin password before a total system shutdown, and had resorted to trying any combination they could think of.

It was sort of impressive, how much physical groveling they were fitting into those miniscule movements. Even unable to do the grander ones that required a full range of motion, they’d probably done over a dozen completely unique displays just in the short time he’d been watching.

Square was standing in front of them, one hand wrapped around a narrow length of pipe that Virgil was pretty sure belonged in the walls of his ship, and holding themself menacingly to their full height in a way that could only be described as ‘looming’.

The tactic seemed to be far more effective on the babbling stranger than it had ever been on Virgil, despite the fact that they were probably twice his height. The still-wet blood splattered on the pipe was probably adding to the effect, although even that wouldn’t have deterred Virgil from backtalk, personally.

Still, despite all their de-escalation attempts, the stranger didn’t seem to be picking up on the fact that Square was getting frustrated with how quickly they were speaking.

They should try biting and/or swearing at the Human. That had worked out pretty well for Virgil, personally.

He attempted to remember how talking worked, in order to give them his valuable advice, but before he could manage, their politely-averted gaze passed over him and then instantly darted back and locked onto him like a drowning victim spotting a floater frond.

“Look, he’s awake! He must know– he can tell you I’m being honest,” they dove into a whole new litany of pleas, but Square had turned at the third word, attention entirely diverted.

The Human was pretty splattered with blood, too. A concerning amount of it– was some of it Square’s own blood? He couldn’t remember the specifics, but he felt like identifying sources of bleeding had been a recent concern of his.

“Virgil!” Noisy exclaimed at his side, sounding surprised and also kind of frantic. He was using that Human word again, so Virgil guessed it really was a nickname. “When did– How long–?”

“Virgil,” Square echoed, voice firmer but just as urgent. “Can you hear me?”

He hummed a distracted affirmative, and the Human’s expression lost some of its drawn-out tension.

“We need to know how to heal your injury. Human medicine is… I think, too rough. What sort of medicine is best for you?” Square asked, drawing closer.

Virgil knew this, he knew he knew this, but the information all felt so far away.

All of him felt pretty far away, actually. That numb, floaty feeling had spread far past his arm, at this point.

The stranger moaned some sort of prayer for salvation.

“‘m feeling fine,” Virgil managed, his words slurring unhelpfully. “Worried?”

“Yes.” Those stress creases were returning to Square’s face. “We don’t know enough about alien medicine. We don’t trust the other aliens to not hurt you. Too much medicine could be lethal.”

Oh. That made sense, though he wasn’t sure why the Humans were making such a fuss about it. If it was just a question of trusting their source, though…

“Bring them here,” he requested, attempting to flick an antenna in emphasis and failing entirely.

Noisy, who had been shuffling from foot to foot in his peripheral vision, darted across the room so quickly that the stranger couldn’t seem to hold back a fearful warbling shriek.

The Human completely ignored the noise to grab the back of the chair and pull. He easily dragged the chair across the room, and with it, a chunk of the paneling where it had formerly been attached to the medbay floor.

“Annoying,” Virgil scolded him, but his voice sounded amused even to himself. The stranger made a strangled chitter.

Noisy’s answering grin was genuine, if a bit (affection-fear-stress) strained, and the stranger was now close enough that Virgil could feel the terror in their aether ramping up to new, unprecedented heights at the sight. His feathers ruffled slightly in distaste at the abrasive feel of it.

“Gonna poison me?” he asked them bluntly.

“Absolutely not,” they replied vehemently. “I– I only have some medical training but I know more than enough to keep you stable for long term treatment, although erring on the safer side of medication dosages means you might experience intermittent pain– but of course there are ways to avoid that!”

Their voice went near-whispery with panic, probably because Square had shifted the slightest bit closer at the word ‘pain’. Virgil didn’t bother trying to shoot the Human a look, mostly because it was kind of hilarious. Everything felt kind of hilarious.

“The exact recommended dosages for Ampens should be accessible via online medical records,” they continued, each word nearly tripping over the next. “If you gave me administrative access, I could find them? … Please?”

Their aether felt too authentic for the treatment to be a lie, but the request was another matter entirely. Virgil believed that they wouldn’t commit any medical malpractice. He definitely didn’t believe that they wouldn’t send an emergency aid request to anyone and everyone the moment they got their tarsal claws on an online comms device.

(Nobody else got admin access. It was too dangerous. He couldn’t remember exactly why, but he wasn’t in the habit of ignoring his lower heart. Better safe than sorry.)

“Nah.” He narrowed his eyes in a pleasant expression. “I trust your experience.”

He fell back asleep to the sight of their mandibles curling in as though he’d just sentenced them to death.

–

The next time he woke up, he was in far less pain.

His mind also felt less like a fledgling lost in a thick early morning fog, which was good.

Now it felt like his thoughts were slipping directly from his skull out into the world, which was… less good, he was pretty sure.

The overhead lights were dim, which made it much easier to open his eyes and spot the Human half-slumped over the bottom half of his medical cot.

Heartfelt’s cheek was smushed against the thin padding on the table in a way that looked deeply uncomfortable, but they seemed entirely knocked out anyhow.

Maybe Humans were squishy for exactly this purpose. He would have to tell Janus to update his theory chart on Human anatomy. Built-in cushioning would be so difficult to justify on those online forums he liked to argue on, he’d have a blast figuring out the most convincing explanation for the feature. Remus would love it, too. He’d contribute the least convincing explanations during the brainstorming process, most of them inappropriate enough to get a user banned.

Where were they? He missed them.

He didn’t realize he was making noise until Heartfelt startled into wakefulness in front of him, with a sharp inhale and a reflexive upright jolt. Virgil suspected that he would have flinched if his current reflexes weren’t all made of jelly.

“Sorry,” Heartfelt said on automatic, and then their face pinched with (worry-alarm-sadness) upset and they leaned towards him. “Virgil? Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay… What’s bad? Hurting?”

That pitiful little croon was coming from him, he realized with a jolt, and the noise trailed off into nothing. He didn’t want to talk about his friends to the Humans. It would be too weird, and it made some unpleasant feeling prickle at the back of his ruff.

“I don’t have any bones left,” he said instead, because that was also a thing he was pretty sure was true. “Who took them?”

Heartfelt blinked at him for a long moment, and then covered their mouth with a hand. What were they trying to hide? Sobs? Were his bones gone forever?

“Bones are okay,” they managed after a moment, words slightly muffled. “All— All okay, it’s only medicine.”

Virgil tilted his head at them dubiously. His whole body felt floppy! How was that ‘okay bones’?

Heartfelt hiccuped slightly, and Virgil realized that they really were crying now.

“I’m so glad you are okay,” they said, extending their free hand until it hovered only a few inches away. “It was scary, you were hurt—,” their voice cracked.

Virgil reached out and wrapped a hand around a couple of their fingers, alarm fluttering in him. “Don’t— Don’t be scared anymore. I won’t be scary. Or hurt. I like you guys too much.”

“I don’t think that is how it works,” Heartfelt replied, but their lips seemed a little more upturned, their aether less tremulous. “Ignore me. Are you— want food?”

“Hungry,” Virgil provided, because out of all of them, Heartfelt routinely forgot the most words. “No, not really. I think I mostly want to know what happened.”

Seriously. What was wrong with his bones.

“Hungry for knowing,” Heartfelt nodded wisely, prompting Virgil to make an amused little trill. It was always fun when he actually understood their wordplay attempts. “I… don’t have the words. Hold on?”

Virgil nodded, watching them stand and only remembering to release their fingers when they hunched over slightly to refrain from breaking his grip. It was a short trip to the doorway, but they still managed to look a little unsteady on their feet. They whistled down the hall, and for a moment, he recalled an echo of the sound and felt his feathers fluff up slightly.

It didn’t take long for Square to appear, and Virgil blinked in some distant surprise at the lack of any splattered discoloration on their hands or clothes. Why had he expected something different? Square was always fairly tidy in appearance.

“What do you remember?” they asked, watching him with a keen gaze.

Virgil hummed and tried to actually recall the situation, which sort of felt like wrangling eels. “There were… raiders? And I…”

He turned his head to look at his other arm, the one that he hadn’t used yet.

It was set and bound, but that didn’t prevent the slow pang of panic that worked its way through him. He needed that arm for something, something important. It would take too long to heal. Heal for what?

Square was still waiting for him to continue, radiating anticipation.

“I got hurt. I… broke a rule?” he guessed, trying to remember past the delayed impact of pain and the resulting flood of shock. He must have done something, to earn an injury this severe. Even if it would hopefully heal clean.

The Humans were both wearing expressions that he was pretty sure meant noncomprehension, though Square smoothed theirs out quickly. “The opposite, actually. You refused to speak of our presence on the ship.”

Oh. That made sense. Raiders were bad news. They would have done something awful to his Humans, for sure.

“And you got them out?” he checked. The last thing he needed was an infestation of pirates. He already had an infestation of Humans. His ship was getting full. They’d have to start making people sleep in the walls.

“We took care of the situation. We’ll discuss it further when you’re more lucid,” Square said, voice tight. “But why?”

“The tunnels are uncomfortable.” Obviously. Most sections weren’t really made for long-term sleeping. In hindsight, he was glad he hadn’t tried to bolt into them and live as a stowaway on his own pilfered ship.

“What–?” Square stopped, shook their head. “No, why did you protect us?”

It took Virgil far longer than it should have to process the question, probably because it was an unbelievably stupid one.

Abruptly, he felt irritation bubble up.

“Come on,” he said crossly, “do you really think that lowly of me? You guys might be total assholes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand you over to star-scourge smugglers.”

Square studied him with that direct, piercing gaze for a long moment. Behind them, Heartfelt was mouthing the Common word for ‘asshole’ with mild confusion, which was honestly more stressful to witness than the threatening eye contact.

Finally, Square looked away and bobbed their head in what could graciously be called a nod. “... Are you in any pain?”

Virgil tried to bob his antennae suspiciously, but mostly just made them flop sideways on his head. The question felt strange, coming from Square.

Maybe because they were always very utilitarian about their own pain? How did he know that, again? More importantly, did the other two know about that?

“No,” he told them stalwartly, ignoring the dull throbbing that had started up on his injured side. If they took any more bones from him, he’d turn into an Ampen puddle. “I don’t want to be liquid.”

Both Humans were staring at him now, which made it the perfect time for Noisy to pop in, guiding a distinctly non-Human handcuffed stranger along with him.

Oh, Virgil remembered this guy. It was good that they hadn’t been still strapped to the chair this entire time.

“Virgil!” Noisy cheered, “You’re alive!”

The stranger seemed both vindicated and relieved about the matter. Virgil wasn’t the best judge of mandibular facial cues, but he was pretty sure that at some point while he was unconscious, they’d burnt through all their active terror and had now settled into an exhausted sort of fugue state.

Noisy turned to Square to ask a question in Human, prompting a brief exchange that Virgil couldn’t hope to follow, all of them still shooting Virgil concerned sideways looks.

He then scooted forward to Virgil's bedside and with all the hopeful confidence of a fool, reached out to pat the top of his head.

Virgil squashed himself down away from the hand in an automatic show of displeasure, and when that didn’t deter the Human quickly enough, he lunged back up and bit him.

(It was fair play. He was pretty sure he’d given them a warning about the biting at some point. Like, eighty percent sure.)

“Mean!” Noisy huffed, but his aether was singing relieved-grateful loud and clear. Weirdo.

“Cranky,” Heartfelt added with a fully-fledged smile. “Back to normal.”

Square nudged the stranger, who apparently still had some active terror left in them after all, and they jumped forward to skirt around Noisy and survey the various scanners Virgil was connected to.

Someone should probably tell them that their life wasn’t dependent on the whole nursing-Virgil-back-to-health situation. … It wasn’t, right? … Right?

It better not be, Virgil thought sourly. His head hurt too much to navigate all that. Truly, the motives of his captors were mysterious and indecipherable.

He missed most of the medical discussion, but the consensus ended up being that Virgil was being disagreeable and did in fact need another dose of analgesic. He might have protested the matter more if it weren’t for the way a jolt of agony had spiked through him as he’d stretched to snap his jaws on Noisy’s arm earlier.

Apparently, sharp jarring movements weren’t good for recently-snapped bones. This seemed like something he’d known before being placed in range of clingy idiot Humans.

He wouldn’t be able to pilot either, he recalled as a pleasant numbness swept through him. Not with his arm like this.

The thought prompted a bubble of shockingly strong panic, but he couldn’t figure out precisely why, and the emotion dissolved like sea foam as he drifted off again.

Oh well. He’d probably figure it out when he next woke up.

#tktsaaiw #to know that song and all its words #sanders sides fic #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #space au #sorry 4 the delay i was tired T-T #my writing #writing