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fabuloustrash05 · 1 year

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Canon Facts About TMNT 2012 Everyone Seems To Forget, But I Remember For Some Reason (Part 2):

Shout to my friend @pumpkinpie59 for having a good memory and remembering some of these other fun facts that slipped my mind. I decided to put them and other facts I remembered all together in their own post. Check out Part 1

Casey hates dubbed anime

April is apart of her school’s chess club

April is failing trigonometry but is also Casey’s tutor in the subject

Karai is 1/8th Chinese

Some characters often refer to the Turtles as “Yokai” or “Kappa”, Yokai are mythical Japanese monsters and Kappa are turtle yokai

Raph once dressed up as a fairy princess for Halloween

According to the official TMNT 2012 concept art book, Leo has a “man-crush” on Captain Ryan (Bisexual Leo confirmed??)

The Turtles like to hang out in Mikey’s room when they are bored

Raph can play the drums

Shinigami’s cats eye hypo ball weapon is a family heirloom, meaning her entire family are all witches and magic users

The Rat King and Dr Rockwell are old friends/colleagues

Before he met Raph, Casey had a childhood best friend named Nick who he no longer speaks to because of a hockey game incident

Donnie is a milk guy #milkatello

Mikey is one of the only people who can make Karai laugh

Fishface hosts an underground racing tournament as a way to earn some extra cash (does Shredder not pay his henchmen?)

April’s dad is a psychologist

There is a meteor that flies by on Karai’s birthday. Every year, Splinter would go up top to watch the meteor and wish his daughter a happy birthday, and unknown to him, Karai (when she was trapped in her snake form) would also watch the meteor.

April used to wear glasses and had braces before she met the Turtles, meaning April wears contact lenses and most likely wears a retainer when she sleeps

Mutant Apocalypse is one of many alternate timelines for the Turtles’ future

Raph hates sour cream

Fugitoid used to be a selfish and greedy man

Renet has been promoted from Assistant Time Master In Training to Junior Assistant Time Master

Casey is left handed

When the Turtles are asleep, Splinter plays their video games and is pretty good

Muckman is known to the public as New York’s mutant superhero, he often uses this image to cover for the turtles, taking the credit while they did all the work in the shadows

With her psychic powers, April can enter people’s dreams

When Raph, Slash, Rockwell and Karai were under the brainworm’s control they were consciously aware of everything they were doing, but were unable to control their actions

Bebop and Rocksteady left New York and became heroes in New Jersey

According to the producers, in the future Raph and Mona Lisa got married and had turtle-lizard hybrid babies

#more important things to know #fanfic writers take notes!#tmnt fun facts #random thoughts #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #april o'neil #karai #casey jones #master splinter

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diariodeunrincondemi · 6 months

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So I can't get over AOT finale and after reading son many opinions, one thing that catches my attention is that it is said that Isayama is a genius for referencing Schindler's List. But the thing is: since the beginning he has been referencing different works of art.

When Eren in his titan form carries the rock on his back in Shiganshina, it is a reference (in design) to Atlas (a titan) carrying the world ball on his back.

When Historia and Eren are in the Reiss chapel, there is a reference to the representations of Jesus crucified and also to the representations of La Pieta (which at the time led me to think of Eren as the redeemer of the Eldians, but in a more twisted way. If the Eldians are the devil, he would sacrifice himself for them to free them from sin).

There are also references to Goya, like Dina devouring Eren's mom is a clear reference to Saturn devouring his son (Goya's most famous paint); but also, if you know Goya's work, you'll probably know his famous aquatint The sleep/dream of reason produces monsters (in spanish we use the word "sueño" for both "sleep" and "dream") which talks about how when humans abandon the reason and only have fantasies, monsters are created. And tbh, there was a moment, I don't know if during the 3rd or 4th season, when I wondered if AOT captured that idea: Eren has dreams, fantasies, but not reason.

And finally, don't forget Plato's Cave myth. What happens in Paradis (the Cave) is the shadow of what's happening in the continent (the outside world). As in this myth, people of Paradis lives in the cave and they only knows that reality, but Paradis reality (it is the shadows) is not the real reality (the outside world).

#attack on titan #media analysis #hajime isayama #thank you isayama #i dont know i love aot so much #ten years journy #eren yeager #eren jaeger #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman #levi aot #anime and manga #character analysis #overanalyzing #overanalysis #armin my boy

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yandere-wishes · 8 months

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𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙𝕤

Summary: Freminet is desperate to take you diving with him. You are rather reluctant.

Author's note: Me: I should give reader a geo vision to depict her love of dry land and earth as opposed to water.

Also Me: Give her a hydro vision, make her fear the power she wields. Make her vision represent how powerless she feels. Give her a hydro vision.

Warnings: Reader and Freminet are 18+ (NO NSFW), Reader is sad, sea monsters, angst (if you squint), do not read if you are aquaphobic, thalassophobic, scared of water in general. Written by an aquaphobic,

"What of the monsters that frolic in the sea? What of the death and destruction they bring?"

Freminet's eyes shot open, his body weightless in the waters' gentle current. The sea has always murmured fairytales to Freminet. Tales of dragons and mermaids. Stories carried by the current from every corner of the Teyvat. Sometimes they tend to lull him to sleep much like his late mother's lullaby.

Although lately -as if the sea truly knows every secret Freminet harbors within his cold heart- the fairytales have shifted focus. The ocean no longer sings of brave knights who vanquish dragons or mermaids who fend their homes of evil. Instead, it whispers tales of true love. Anecdotes of princes and princesses who reunite, who fall in love, who live and die in each other's arms. Each story has Freminet's mind racing back to you.

People never ask about the sun's rays under the rolling tides of the sea.

Never ask about the reefs that cradle one's body akin to a protective crib.

Instead, they ask about treasure, about pearls, and crystals. About the diamonds and rubies from sunken treasures. They ask how the ocean can make them rich, how they can steal what she's laid claim to.

But can't treasure also be found on land? It's a question Freminet can't help but ponder. Can't treasure be found between Fontaine's bustling crowd, during the early morning rush or the afternoon spectacles? Can't it be hidden between produce stalls and restaurant lounges?

He knows it can be. For he sees it every day.

What is a treasure, if not a rare item unclaimed?

What is a treasure if not beauty that lies hidden on both land and sea?

What is a treasure of not a girl, a lover, an ally?

What is a treasure if not the hydro wielder he sees every day from his bedroom window?

But you don't see it the same, now do you?

Despite his reserved and timid nature, Freminet has unfortunately built up quite a reputation for himself. 'The Master Diver Of Fontaine' they call him. A name he holds absolutely no regard for. Yet it does very little to ward off all manner of people from pestering him for his expertise. Adventures, tourists, treasure seekers, all who wish to unravel the depths of the sea come to him. And he turns down every single one. Or rather he gets Lyney and Lynette to do it for him.

But you're different, you're special in his eyes. Your warm smile melts the accumulated frost from around his heart. It had taken many months before Freminet had approached you. Blushing and stumbling as he rubbed the back of his neck. Awkward in every sense of the word. You had merely laughed and reached out to grasp his hand with yours. Frost leaked from his digits, melding with the water that always danced at the tip of your fingers. Hydro and Cyro mix chaining you together. Freminet had all but dragged you back home to get Lyney to unfreeze the two of you.

Amusing, how much a disastrous first meeting had left you wanting to see more of him. Funny how every night before he closes his eyes he feels your hand molded within his.

"Please, I swear it's not that bad" He's at it again, begging, pleading. Imploring you to come see his world. The world beneath Fonatine, his secret fairytale world where you can be the princess and he can be your prince. But you refuse again and again. "Freminet I've already told you no. Please stop asking it's getting irritating." He's tried to reason with you, although his stuttering and shyness aren't persuading in the least. He's all but practically dragged you to the shore.

That's why, one day when Freminet resurfaces he's shocked to see you sitting by the shore. Shoes discarded to the side as you sit just out of reach of the tide. The water's cold today, almost saddened, and the waves tumble over themselves apathetically. Freminet stares at you, at your beauty. How you all but radiate so close to his hidden paradise. He watches as you gaze upon the waters. He dares not to ask what you see. What you ponder on doing.

"I see you." You say, in a cheerful voice that matches not your face. For a heartbeat, Freminet wonders if he's the cause of your cheerfulness, if seeing him makes you as happy as you do to him. He steps onto the shore. The water droplets cling to him like stardust, as if begging him to return to the serenity of the ocean. He sits next to you on the beach, head spinning from being underwater for all so long. When he looks at you all he sees is sunken treasure. Another marvel to add beauty to his blue world. He's all so desperate to keep you away from others who'll steal your beauty for every wrong reason. To him you are perfect. He fights the urge to trace sea-stars on your arms, to relish in your warmth.

You lay your head on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under your weight. "I hate the ocean Freminet. And the sea, and the lakes and the rivers. All of it I hate all of it.". He's quiet for a minute, mind racing to try and find an answer. "But..what about your vision? It's hydro isn't it." You pause, anger dancing across your face "I HATE it" you spite, "That useless vision is the cruelest joke the Archons ever decided to play on me. I've tried to get rid of it, even tossed it into the ocean from whence it came. But somehow, it always finds its back to me." Anger laces your voice, bitter and forlorn. It makes Freminet jolt, also fearing when people raise their voices.

The moon takes over the sun. As the two of you refuse to leave your seats. You paint him sea monsters and fanged beasts with your words. Tell him how they breach the surface for pleasure and for pain. You spin together double-headed leviathans breaching the surface to prey on unsuspecting Violetgold Angler Gulls. Tell him about how once, back when you'd been young and naive you had let some older kids trick you into going to the deep end of the water. You tell him what it's like to draw, what it's like to feel weightless in endless darkness. Freminet doesn't comment, although it all sounds rather enjoyable to him. He wonders if his perception of the depths has become warped.

It's only when you decide to leave that Freminet gets an idea. Wicked maybe, but he's always been a selfish boy. Harboring greed within his heart as a secondary shield. He grabs your wrist and in a moment of unblaces, plunges you both into the very waters you fear.

They're a scream, silent as it's washed under the raring tide. Freminet feels the terror and betrayal radiating off your form. You may hate him now. But that's okay, he'll show you the beauties of his world. A haven you can both escape to. Away from greedy people who wish you nothing but harm. Maybe it's because everyone he's loved has left him, maybe it's because losing you feels worse than death, maybe it's because he's finally found someone to fill the void in his heart. But he won't let you go. Not now not ever.

You feel like a doll. Helplessly submerged in vastness. Freminet's body clings to yours like a second skin. Stiffly pinning your arms to your side. Your lungs are on fire and you swear you see an array of giants moving in the dark corners. You want to scream, to fight. But you can't your impolized by fear. This is it you think, as something strange swims past you. This is where you will die.

There's something large swimming up to you. Something murky and dark whose sharp teeth shimmer in the stray rays of moonlight that have made their way down here. You see a dorsal fin, almost as sharp as the teeth. There's something else behind you, larger, with sharp scales that into your back. You feel its teeth sliding against your back as the first predator closes in. There's a noise, grotesque in nature, before you lose all sense in your left arm. You scream into the void, and move vigorously in Freminet's grasp, desperately trying to convey your fear. But he doesn't move. In all likeliness, he's mostly dead you think. The monsters got to him too. You shut your eyes tightly awaiting your demise...

There's a soft glow that lulls you into opening your eyes. Your body feels cold and wet. As your heart hammers at your ribcage, desperate to escape and flee. You feel something soft on your lips, something equally cold. Your eyes trace the glow of Freminet's face as he traps you in an extensive kiss. It's calming, despite the unspeakable thing he just did, you're just happy he's alive. That you're alive. "I love..." he mutters when he finally breaks the kiss. You look at him dazed, high on your fear, on your relief. The world spins stuck between fantasy and reality. Your fingers trace the sides of his cheek as he nuzzles into your touch.

"What of the monsters that frolic in the sea? What of the death and destruction they bring?"

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barrzut · 1 year

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Eternal Nightmære (After The Sleep Of Reason Produces Monsters)”

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tamayakii · 3 months

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another chance.

just some ficlet/hcs about an idea i had, super unedited and a mess. I wrote it at midnight :3 anyways let me know if u want more. warnings: murder, drugs; specifically cocaine, suicide,

The smell of nicotine swirls in your lungs, the pink smoke dances across your lips. The clothes cling to your sweaty skin as you stare up at Valentino, heart pounding. “Do this and I promise to let you sleep, Princessa~” he coos sweetly, his second pair of hands holds you close as the other hold your face tightly.

“Yes Val..” You murmur, sleep… sleep sounded so good. He twirls you around to face the stage, how did you end up here again? Your droopy eyelids get heavier as you stare at the stage from the sidelines, Vaenltinos yells but its all drowned out. Just one show, you tell yourself, one show then a week of sleep. A sugary drink is brought to your lips and you grimace,

“Drink up~” Val whispers in your ear, tipping your head back as he forces the disgusting liquid down your throat. “One show is all i need from you, shake that sexy body and show Velvettes amaazinng outfit and then you’re done.” You take a deep breath as the music begins, you can hear the crowd roar with excitement.

“Yes val.”

Valentino had taken you in soon after your death and fall into the Sloth Ring, You were a performer in life, a popular singer across multiple countries. Your provocative style and voice had made you an icon, many credited your fame to your producer.

Little did they all know was your producer was a creep, a terrible person, just all of the negative adjectives. The only thing he could truly be credited for was your crippling depression and even worse addiction, you were under his thumb 24/7

He was the reason why you’re in hell.

One day, while coming down from a high, something snapped in you- When he had turned around as he talked about a new show in Japan, you grabbed your grammy award statue. Swinging up and as he turned around, you hit him. And you did it again, over and over again. Screaming with frustration as you bludgeoned him to death, beating his skull in. Blood and brain matter splattered across your arms and face.

He was unrecognizable, nothing was left above his shoulders- for the first time in years, you felt relief.. Freedom even, before the reality of what you did hit you. Bile climbs up your throat as you look down in horror, you step back up.

You killed him. You were a monster.

Your pristine white carpet was matted with blood, you trip over your coffee table, screaming in horror. You couldn’t escape what you’ve done, you can’t go to prison, what about your family? Friends? Your fans?!

Breaking down as you gaze at his lifeless body, what were you going to do!

A horrid thought fills your brain but.. It was the only way to atone for your crimes, suddenly your tears stop and everything goes numb. Everything that you start to do feels like nothing, one moment you’re in your living room and the next in your bathroom tub, bleeding out from your wrists and empty pill bottles strewn across the marble floor.

You deserved this.

And thats how you came to hell. YOu had killed your producer and then yourself; Landing in the ring of Sloth. Your first night was rough but someone had recognize you from their time alive, inviting you to their club, where you met Valentino and just like everyone else he employed, you fell for his charms.

Instead of being a stripper/porn star/prositute, He used your voice. You were his best advertisement right next to Angel Dust, the perfect thing to promote all of the V’s.

Velvettes fashion, Valentinos music, and Vox’s newest technology.

For a long time, you let them move you around like a puppet, not fighting back. They let you sleep, cause when they did? They could do anything with you when you were awake. It was an easy exchange, let you sleep and they get to use you as their personal advertisement.

Your popularity boomed, performing in Asmodeus’s Lounge, in Velvettes fashion events, you filled out stadiums and more. People wanted you. They wanted to be you but you could care less, yes; when you were alive you would eat all of this attention up but now? All you wanted was sleep.

Angel Dust had known of you, and you know of him. Few times you cross paths, you thought nothing of him; no literally nothing. Often when you did cross paths, you were too exhausted for anything. And him? He saw you once, sleeping under Valentinos wing, and for some reason, he was filled with jealousy and disgust, disgust that he was jealous.

But when he moved out of the studio, you took the brunt of Valentinos abuse, the number of concerts boomed, the drugging intensified and so much more. You often cried for sleep, sobbing for the comfort of your bed. Breaking down after performances, clawing at Valentinos legs.

You were going on a week of no sleep, being forced to be on the move constantly. One day, when no ones eyes were on you (which was rare) you had stumbled out of the Vee’s building, stumbling across the broken sidewalk. You couldn’t tell if you were dreaming but you kept on going until you tripped over a body and passed out.

Hours passed. Days passed.

You finally wake up, in a warm bed but.. Not your bed. You look around, blinking one eye at a time as you try to lif your heavy body. You didn’t recognize this room, “mmmnhgg… Hello?” you groan out, and something at the end of your bed makes a noise. You look over and see a black and white cat, with one eye. You gasp gently, “kitttyy..” you whisper, reaching over and offering your hand to the feline.

“KeeKee!! There you are- oh! You’re awake!” a feminine voice squeals, and you look up. She looked vaguely familiar, ah. You knew her from the news, talking about her Happy Hotel.

“Areeenn’t you the lady who sung on the news and then fought Katie Killjoy?” you ponder, raising an eyebrow, she freezes before letting out an awkward chuckle, she rubs the back fo her neck. You give her a dead eye look, “that was fun” you monotone.

“Ah.. yes.. But!~ my name is Charlie Morningstar!!” she exclaims, quickly pushing away her embarrassment, she extends her hand and you gladly accept it, shaking it with a small smile. You offer her your name in return, “I found you on the street passed out, so i took you to my hotel, you were asleep for a loooooong time! I was getting worried!” now it was your time to be embarrassed.

“Ah… my apologies. I haven’t slept in awhile.. But.. thank you for taking me somewhere safe.”

Charlie is extremely happy that your awake, obviously you needed to sleep somewhere safe and ya know- not on the sidewalk!! Plus, she recognized you from your music!! She’s a liiiitttle bit of a fan-

She excitedly tells you all about the story of her finding you, and you take her. She practically swoops you up and shows you around the hotel, and it does look quite well. Throughout, your phone is buzzing angrily on the nightstand of the room you occupied.

“This place is amazing..” you whisper, she told you about her dream and her ambitions about redeeming sinners. Perhaps.. You could be redeemed. “Are.. are you looking for demons to redeem still?”

“Yes!! We’re always taking in sinners 24/7! ..” she then gasps, eyes sparkling, realizing why you must’ve asked!!! “Do.. Do you want to try?!” she squeals loudly, clapping her hands. The hotel is.. A bit decrepit.. Cobwebs here n there but if redemption was something that could happen..

Well..? will you give it a try?

#hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #hh x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x you

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mystic-writings · 10 months

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wherever i go (you bring me home)

PAIRING — wilbur soot x fem!reader

SUMMARY — you and wilbur get into your first major fight

WARNINGS — angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, wilbur’s a heat of the moment asshole

WORD COUNT — 2,078

SONG — sweet creature - harry styles

NOTES — writing this took forever lol sorry i've been gone for like 3 months <3

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“Wilbur, you can’t just keep ignoring this!” You’d been trying not to raise your voice for almost an hour now, but it just wasn’t working.

The man turned away from you and played with the hem of his button up. “I told you, I’ve got it under control.” He spoke at a low volume, keeping his eyes downcast. “I’ll deal with it. I don’t even know if I’m going back next year, okay?”

“Why not?” You asked, settling on the couch beside your boyfriend.

“Because, I don’t see a point in it anymore!” His voice raised with every word, until he turned to face you and began shouting. Quickly, he stood up and paced the room. “I don’t see a point in getting a business degree, or working an office job until I die. I don’t want to do that!”

He made a start for the door, and you stood, following him. “Wilbur, that’s okay! But you can’t keep skipping class, either! You can work out what you want to do and still go to school!”

“No, I can’t!” He turned, whipping around at lightning speed. You took a step back. “Because I don’t have that kind of money! I can’t afford to go through university twice. Not everyone has the privilege of using their parent’s money to pay for school, unlike you.”

Wilbur was seething by the time he finished. Your shoulders sagged and your eyes began to well with tears. As much as he was right, it was still painful. He scoffed at your lack of a response, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door and left you alone in the apartment, silence pressing in on you.

You managed to bring yourself to the couch, falling onto it with your head in your hands. You knew you shouldn’t have pressured him, but it was his final year of school, and enrollment was coming up soon. You just wanted him to make sure he had made his choice.

The room felt both too large and too small when you were in it by yourself. At some point, the guilt and regret dragged you down into a lying position, and it didn’t take long for your mind to lull itself to sleep wondering when Wilbur would come back. If he’d come back.

Anxiety stuck like a boulder on your chest, guilt and the unknown creeping in on you like the monsters you were scared of as a child. But this time, there was no one to hold you, to comfort you and tell you it was okay. That you had nothing to worry about. Because you did have something to worry about. And that was where Wilbur had gone. If he was okay. If he was still your boyfriend.

Eventually, the little tears your body was able to produce and the whirring of your constantly changing thoughts brought you to sleep, curled into yourself on the couch with tear-tracks marking your cheeks.

By the time you’d woken up that morning, Wilbur still hadn’t come home. The pit in your stomach expanded larger and deeper than you ever thought it could, consuming your entire being as you wondered what his absence was beginning to mean.

Was it just… over? No goodbyes, no real ending, just… the end?

It was all you could think about as you forced yourself to go about your normal routine, ignoring the twinge in your back from sleeping on the couch.

Going out in public felt so odd. None of these strangers knew the state of your relationship, of your mind. Then again, you weren’t sure if you did, either. Still, your routine continued, heading to class as though you weren’t a wreck.

Wilbur knew just how fucked he was as soon as he stormed out of the house. He knew he didn’t mean any of the bullshit he’d told you, but he was still fuming and couldn’t be at home. At least, not at home with you, at the moment.

The small, reasonable voice in the back of his head was telling him what an idiot he was being, that his anger would subside and he would regret everything he’d done and everything he was going to do, but he didn’t listen to it. Especially when it told him to march back inside and apologise to you.

Before he knew it, Wilbur had gotten on a bus that carried him to Canada Water station, and a thousand thoughts were cropping up all at once as he stood on the escalator, too fast for him to process, but all of them underlined with one, booming thought. What had he just done?

It was all he could think about as he boarded the train headed toward the London Bridge station, letting his feet take him wherever they needed to go. Right now, all he knew was 3 things: The stress of next year being his last year at uni was unbearable, he took said stress out on you even though he swore he’d never do anything like it from the moment he met you, and that he needed to apologise.

But how? By the time he realised it, Wilbur was almost an hour away from you, with no cell service, and only three stops away from King’s Cross. He could picture you now, distraught on the couch like he’d seen his mother so many times after she’d fought with his dad when he was a kid, and it killed him to know that he’d been the one to cause it. That he’d broken the promise he made to himself a very long time ago.

Even as all these thoughts came to a head in his mind, battling on which one he needed to process first, Wilbur managed to make it to King’s Cross St. Pancras station. And as he bought a ticket from the handler at King’s Cross station, and began the trek to his platform, where a train would eventually come and carry him back to his mother’s embrace, he was mindless. The ticket was cheap, but the train wouldn’t be coming in until later in the morning - all the other trains to Ipswich were full. It was after midnight, and Wilbur wondered if you fell asleep on the couch, or if you ended up wandering into bed at some point during his travels.

Wilbur ended up finding a bench to sit on at his platform, ticket in hand as he awaited his train.

Time seemed to stretch on forever by the time Wilbur’s train arrived at the platform. It was going to be almost completely empty; after all, the only people on the platform were stragglers. His mind felt empty, like he wasn’t fully there. It was like he was torn, half of him on the platform, the other half of him at home. Most of the people waiting for the train had shown up, but even then he felt entirely alone, arms wrapped around himself, clutching the sides of his sweater, desperately trying to think straight.

It felt like an eternity, his mind running loops, laughing as he tried to get it on a sane path of thought. But when it did, when he finally felt like he had some sense of clarity, the train was breezing past him, pulling into the station, awaiting his boarding. But as he stood from where he sat on the bench he’d been on for ages, he couldn’t bring his feet to move him toward the train. He had the ticket, and he was mere feet away - it was so easy. It should’ve been easy.

But all he could think about was you. Was the hurt he put in your chest with the words he spoke - however true they seemed to be at the time. All he could feel was regret weighing him down, guilt piercing his lungs and making it harder to breathe. Puncturing his heart and tearing it apart.

And with tears beginning to build up, Wilbur turned. And as he walked away from the platform, he dropped his ticket in the bin, and checked his watch. You were in class right now, if you even went, and would long be home by the time he got back. But it didn’t matter right now, what mattered to Wilbur was that he made things right.

He’d arrived back at your shared flat almost an hour and a half later with shaking hands, unsure of whether you were home or not. His phone died along the northern line, and his leg bounced with anxiety every time he was seated.

With a slow exhale, Wilbur reached for the door handle. It twisted mercifully in his grasp, and he knew in an instant: you were home. The door creaked, Wilbur cringed. He hadn’t been able to hear any signs of your location in the flat, but the unlocked door told him at least that you were inside. As he stepped inside, he felt almost like a stranger in his own home. It was deafeningly silent, and it felt as though there was no warmth flowing through. Like you’d simply disappeared, and he had, too.

Still, Wilbur persisted. He slipped off his shoes, shrugged off his jacket, and tiptoed to the bedroom. His confusion began growing with every step, as there was no sign of you, but when he pushed the bedroom door open, only to still find no signs of your presence, it nearly doubled. He made his way to the bed to plug in his phone, and startled himself when he turned around, finding you in the doorway.

“Where were you?”

“Y/n, I-”

“Where have you been, Will?” You asked. Your voice tried to sound stern, and your eyebrows remained furrowed, but the crack in your voice and the tears in your eyes told Wilbur everything you didn’t want him to know. “You didn’t come home. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed, and your heart cracked.

“No.” You shook your head. “You’re not the only one. I pushed you too far.”

He followed you as you turned, heading back into the living room. “It wasn’t just you, okay? I have some blame in the fight, too.” Wilbur sighed, watching as you stood by the coffee table, arms crossed, lip between your teeth. “Look, darling, I- I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I was an idiot. Hell, I am an idiot. But I’m your idiot, and I love you. I was so caught up in leaving that I ended up at King’s Cross somehow. I had a ticket in my hand, and I almost went back home - back to Suffolk - but I didn’t. I didn’t because I hurt you, and it wasn’t fair of me to hurt you the way I did and leave without a word. I’m sorry.” Wilbur’s head bowed, chest almost heaving from the pace with which the words tumbled from his lips.

“You love me?”

Wilbur’s head snapped back up, eyes locking with your soft ones. Had he said that? “I-” his mind ran for miles in the span of a second, processing what he previously said. But it didn’t matter. He did love you. “Yeah, I do. I love you, Y/n.”

“Then you’ll let me take some of the blame,” you said, voice soft as a small smile started stretching across your face. “I pushed too far, Will, and that wasn’t fair of me, either. And I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to. I just want what’s best for you, and that’s up to you to decide, not me. I just did it because I love you, too, and I want you to be sure in your decisions.”

Wilbur smiled back at you, not wanting to waste a second as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face in the crook of your neck - nose buried in your hair. Without missing a beat, you wrapped your arms around his torso, breathing him in. His warmth spread through you in an instant, and your heart stuttered with emotion. There was no need to worry.

Wilbur was home. You were his home.

Tangled up in your limbs, head resting on your chest, calmed by your heartbeat and the fingers in his hair, scratching ever-so-gently at his scalp, was his home. And home is where he spent the rest of the night, watching movies until he fell asleep, comforted by your presence.

hba taglist: @z0vamp @blancastans @vanillaarr @chillidaquack

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#the heartbreak anthology #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot angst #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

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classic-art-favourites · 9 months

Text

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters by Francisco de Goya, 1797-1799.

#classic art #etching #francisco de goya #spanish artist #18th century #romanticism #allegorical art #mental allegory #man #bats #birds #owls

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

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Aight so this is fantastical and unserious as hell so you can ignore this if u want, but like what if one day reader just *poofs* and turns into a child, like they just de-ages and turns into their 7 year old self.

Lmao the reason why I ask this is bc I wanna see how deep his hatred of children goes, like would he extend this to a child version of reader?

You would be surprised to know, no. His patience is endless with you, although he is on the stricter side, he is loving and wouldn't dream to use the tactics he used for his child.

Yves would give you kisses, cuddle, and accompany you as long as you asked for his presence. The love he provides wouldn't be much different from the love you receive as an adult, except it's platonic, more handholding through life, more protective, and mildly overbearing. But you're a 7-year-old, you're fine with him being around you 24/7.

It's fun to be with him. He will talk to you, and encourage the development of your speech by conversing about random things. Even things that a 7-year-old probably won't understand, if you're a bit older, you would realize Yves is using you as his diary. But whatever he told you about himself is so boring, so it was wiped out from your mind.

You could just raise your arms to him and he will automatically pick you up, carrying you to wherever you want to go. Or simply having you on his hip while he runs some errands.

Yves utilizes timeouts, calmly explaining what you did was wrong and describing possible consequences if you continue. He will also hear you out, letting you defend yourself and give him your reasoning. The interaction will go smoothly and both parties will have plenty of communication. Once the whole ordeal is over and you sincerely apologize, he will hug you and let you stay in his arms for as long as you want. You could cry, you could smile and laugh. He allows it.

His praises will be genuine, happy that you are showing your best behavior for Yves. He doesn't have a narrow path for you to follow, he allows you to choose your interests, your passion, and will. Unlike his actual child, he would let you try playing the harp or piano, but he wouldn't force you to be a master in it. Yves believes that you should try everything, but it is ultimately up to you to decide what to do.

The two of you would bond by cooking and baking. You could make a mess and he wouldn't lock you in a sensory deprivation chamber. He will make you understand that for every mess you make, you have to clean it up. Yves will teach you valuable skills while strengthening your relationship with him, producing a lot of precious core memories in your life.

He will help you through your emotions. Sometimes you can't express yourself as well, but he will help you recognize if you are angry, sad, excited, or hurt. Yves will talk you through and ease the pain your soul is feeling, helping to regulate your emotions for you. Nothing will seem confusing, as long as Yves is here, you know you will be safe. And everything will be okay.

He coddles you a lot. Cooing when you get hurt, giving kisses to your bandaged wound, wiping the tears off your face. Sleeping in the same bed as you because you're scared of the monsters in the dark, never leaving your sights because you have crippling separation anxiety. Yves lets you learn everything at your own pace, even if you haven't hit a milestone that you were supposed to years ago, he is fine with it. He will continue to care for you, teach you with gentle words and touches, and love you to the fullest.

Yves lets you be a normal kid without any of the horrifying consequences. You will feel valued and loved unconditionally. You will be heard and you will be seen.

His actual child would be furiously punching in the air watching how he treats de-aged you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #tw infantilization #platonic yandere #oc yves

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disease · 2 years

Photo

“THE SLEEP OF REASON PRODUCES MONSTERS” FRANCISCO DE GOYA // 1799 [etching | 21.8 x 15.2 cm.]

#francisco de goya #romanticism #illustration #etching #monochrome #modern art #18th century #spanish #art #u

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viciouslyfilthy · 3 months

Text

" The Beast of Lust. "

(Ex) Judge Claude Frollo

76 years of age (though aging now does not mean much to him anymore since he's cursed eternally to remain in this current form, he doesn't grow weaker but he doesn't get better)

Awassi sheep-like type of drake. (Formerly human)

Personality:

A cruel Judge no more, now all there is left is an utterly broken and humiliated man, somewhere deep inside the animalistic, lust-driven creature he is now.

Claude's spirit has been shoved so deep in embarassment and self-hatred that over the years the beast rarely cares to entertain these feelings anymore, he either bottles them up and dissociates from them- has outbursts of rage- or, much less common, he cries and pleads to God hopelessly.

Of course- this happens during few moments of clarity where he just decides to be angry with himself. His internal conflict remains, if anything- it only accentuated. His nature is very hypocritical. On one half, he no longer cares and gladly indulges in his vices and entertains himself with what brings him comfort and closure (his imps), he feels at peace during these moments, feeling like a completely different person; on the other half, his mind still sometimes desperately tries to cling back to being fully against indulging, attempting to abstain himself again and begging God for forgiveness, leading to guilt for 'sinning', which leads him to remember about his new condition- which leads him to reflect, which leads him down a path where he begins to understand why he's been punished this way- which leads to one or two things: a complete emotional shutdown where Claude flat out is unable to feel anything towards his past actions and what he is now, OR complete and utter denial of guilt which leads to more self-hatred until he either spirals into a manic, self-righteous episode or his animalistic instincts force his self-awareness to become temporarily absent, forcing him to take a break. (He ends up often forgetting about his anger, emotional and literal memory loss is another thing he frequently deals with)

This is the other thing I was implying at the beginning of this with 'during a few moments of clarity', Claude no longer has full control over himself, his old mind is merely a passenger that often gets the privilege of being aware of his existence and his actual complications. The best way I can describe his 'mindless beast' behaviour when he is not aware of his old self is a mixture between the Ice King from Adventure Time and Smaug from The Hobbit; he's still intelligent but it's as if he becomes another person entirely as he temporarily forgets about his past and that he used to be human. In this state he only cares to please himself (sexually or otherwise), eat, sleep and boss around/tend to his imps.

His behaviour is also very reminiscent of a common fictional dragon's greedy behaviour (which makes sense since he's supposed to be a drake AND a fitting fate for him to essentially have become a dragon given that he was very selfish as a human hehe); he may not spit fire but he will attack and maul anyone that enters his den unannounced or tries to steal from his hoard (he collects green shiny gems, often emeralds. This is an unconcious impulse driven by his obsession with Esmeralda; emeralds remind him of her name and vivid green colors remind him of her eyes). If the beast brings you into his den willingly, it's because he wants to keep you in there as part of his hoard. (If he has a moment of clarity, he might allow you to leave)

Biology:

His body is completely unrecognizable from the slim, human form he previously had. The only remnant that confirms that yes- this is the very same Judge, is his voice, untouched by the grisly transformation.

He's adapted the shape of a land drake, flightless and without any special kind of power really; he can't breathe fire nor possesses any kind of common magic you'd imagine most to have. His body is not all scaly! Some remnants of human skin remain in some areas (lower half of the body, head, neck, lower parts of arms & legs); the parts of his body that are scaly have a sturdier built, providing him some kind of protection- should he get attacked.

And this is where we get to the imps. He doesn't have any kind of common magic, but there is something that has been granted to him that can be considered magical: the power of his imps, a hivemind of little cutesy-devilish-looking creatures at his command that will obey his every command without arguing. It's like a grotesque mockery of the political power he previously possessed over fellow men.

The imps are also being mentioned here because they are an extension of Frollo, in a way. They have literally split off of him and they serve him and only him, and if an imp is killed- he will feel that pain much like the rest of the hivemind; the imps can also merge together! Often to recreate Frollo's original, human form (with tricorn hat and all!). He doesn't do this often with his imps and most times it's just to kind of mourn his humanity- but he can command his imps to go out and pretend to be him if he wanted to.

Overall the imps don't have many different personalities from one another since y'know they're a hivemind, but they do act like baby critters when they're not doing anything in particular or feel safe with their 'master'; they display unbothered/unphased joy and happiness while playing with eachother which makes them a tad wholesome with their child-like nature. Frollo cannot hurt them even if he wanted to, much as he might find them to be unnatural or 'unholy', the one thing his mind physically forbids him from hating, the one thing he is completely unable to be repulsed by, is his imps. It's like they carry bits of his humanity that is still 'pure' per say. (And also over the years he's grown to be oddly fond of them since they're pretty much all the company he has left now).

Backstory:

Day of Judgement finally arrived... it just so happened to be quite peaceful and not as destructive and chaotic as the Good Book put it, it was like any other day... well, somewhat- the Festival of Fools just so happened to fall upon this fateful date.

The evening of the same day Esmeralda had been left trapped within the cathedral of Notre Dame (the Hellfire song never happens in this AU unfortunately💔), the Judge would recieve a messenger at his door- warning him of what was to come, as his fate had been irreversibly decided: he was to slowly transform into a beast- his outsides would finally match his insides.

And of course... although intimidated, the Judge was quite offended and angered at such assumption of his character! He would've ordered this person be arrested for such insolence towards him, but as soon as he would try to chase them out the door- they were gone... as if they were never there.

The man paid no mind to these words, although unnerved- he preferred to focus on keeping an eye on the cathedral.

Until the changes started happening. During which he reluctantly allowed Esmeralda to go free after hearing she escaped, as he had other things to worry about now...

They were small at first, like longer, sharper nails and feeling little bumps around his head- but in less than a week they became very evident: nails turned into full-on claws, those bumps would begin to sprout into horns, and the Public Official would begin to display impulsive, animalistic behaviour towards his guards and the people around him- like growling and snapping at them.

The messenger's words returned to him one night like a bucket of boiling water splashed in his face- when he ruthlessly attacked and mauled a guard with a force he couldn't have possessed before; when the man became self-aware again of what he had done- he was greedily devouring the guts of the corpse before him like an animal. He stepped back, shocked, horrified and disgusted- yet something... called to him. A primal hunger he couldn't help but to satisfy.

And so begins his descent into fully becoming a monster on the outside as well.

The Judge would lock himself up in his home for months, lying that he was terribly sick to avoid having anyone see him in these conditions. He wouldn't be able to bear the humiliation and dread of thousands of eyes watching him become something unholy, unnatural, all because of his own actions.

He finds little comfort in anything as he's practically a prisoner in his own home, his sanctuary, finally being on the other side of the table with how Quasimodo must have felt for two decades. He hated it.

Then, memory loss begun to set in, which scared the man further- he would begin to forget verses from the Bible, he would forget he was ever human temporarily as he would devour raw meat and grow restless to leave his cage. His home begun to feel like an artificial setting within a zoo. His thoughts were not his own, and because of this- he chose to furiously write down his entire life and what led to him writing it down, which resulted in a genuine moment of self-reflection.

You'd expect some remorse from the wicked Judge, don't you?

He did too.

He slowly realized just how 'impure' his actions were that he did in the name of God and his duties as Official. He recognized them. He felt guilt and regret, but not out of remorse. He felt guilt and regret because this is what led to his hideous transformation.

He doesn't feel bad for who he has hurt, he doesn't feel a smidge of remorse for what he did to Quasimodo's mother, he doesn't feel a thing for Quasimodo in this context. Even when he tries to look for how he's supposed to feel, his heart is hollow. He doesn't genuinely regret his actions, only the fact that they're what led to him getting cursed.

And this is why Claude Frollo has been cursed to remain like this forever. His humanity stripped because of how far he separated himself from humanity with his cruelty, looking down upon others that were people just like him, and placing himself as high as the God he worships.

This curse is permanent because there never was redemption or 'making up' intended towards his past actions, there never will be because he doesn't truly feel bad about it. Although he may face guilt and accept being wrong behind closed doors, he does not feel remorse.

Eventually the beast suffered a manic episode that led to fleeing his sanctuary, leading him to burst out of his home in the middle of the night and escape somewhere he could be away from everything. He couldn't tolerate showing his horrendous face to the people of Paris, much less to admit any wrongdoings that caused this.

And so... here he is now, living in a den of his own making somewhere deep within the earth of France, his soul rotten by his vices he can no longer bottle up or abstain from (greed, lust, gluttony...).

A monster of his own making... but oddly enough he feels happy, in a twisted way. Happier than he has ever been when he was human. If he could choose to go back to being human and remaining a beast... in front of someone else, he would choose becoming human again- but if he was alone, although hesitant, he would choose to remain as he is. He wouldn't go back.

#the sleep of reason produces monsters ( frollo )#beast of lust ( frollo visage )#fragments of the man he used to be ( frollo headcanons )#roots from the past ( oc info/backstory )#look at us ( mun art )#canon-divergent.#body horror tw #mental illness tw #religion tw #violence tw #nudity cw

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