#horrifying. awful texture

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly.

#somehow this one managed to gross me out more than some of the gut pieces #i think its bc yjhs coat looks the kind of wet to where it gets stiff #horrifying. awful texture #orv #omniscient reader #omniscient readers viewpoint #yjh #yoo joonghyuk #bard draws #blood #tw blood

[paymechildsupport]

Divine. // Heian Sukuna x M!Reader <3

smut brainrot :( -!! Overstim, - oral, - sex with a lot of feewings, - monsterfucking (he has 2 cocks), - tadbit body horror possibly --------------------------------------------------

aghjakhg he's so.. :3

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

Sukuna couldn't quite believe it: your hands, so soft, were gently running themselves over his chest.

"What are you...?" The words clogged in his throat, feeling you start to trace down.

You shifted in his lap, alone with him and solely him, -- under the dark awning of the night. No one would come to look for the two of you, not now, when it was so late out.

You could barely see the massive body in front of you, -- so you felt him. You ran your fingers over the expanse of his chest, his shoulders, his four arms, - mapping a general shape in your mind's eye. You couldn't see but you could see him, -- see him in a way no had before.

Air eluded itself from his lungs and he shuttered involuntarily. He had never been touched, been held like this, handled so tenderly. Fingers, miniscule compared to his massive figure, grazed over the markings etched onto his skin. You could faintly feel yourself touch over a scar, a raised, rough mark on his perfect body. It only made you sink deeper into him, his loose embrace of his arm around your waist. Your fingertips sketch the defined muscle, feeling every dip of skin and flesh, -- living proof of the decades of hard, grueling work engrained into his abdomen. His abs slightly flex when you run over them, you can feel the strong muscles ripple with each sharp intake of breath.

You reach the curve of his second mouth, running your thumb over the thin lip in his stomach.

"Careful..." he mutters. The last time someone had gotten so close to that area, it hadn't ended well for him. Sukuna could briefly picture his mangled skeleton, twisted and bent at all the wrong angles.

The Curse was in awe, how you effortlessly touched over his body, hardened by the decades of war and bloodshed it had borne witness to.

A noise involuntarily ripped itself from his lips, - the broken sound of a tiny, cornered animal. He had never in his life been touched in such a way, -- revered almost.

You reach back up, fingers dancing along his skin, tracing every line of those inky black markings. Sukuna realizes too late when you reach for his neck, pausing there, to rub the place where his pulse was. The blood rushed underneath your touch, rapid and humming and alive. It was such a vulnerable spot for him, but Sukuna stays frozen, rooted to his spot, so you don't stop. You travel up, all the way up to his face, where they lingered over his jaw. You press the pads of your fingers into the hard bones of his face, feeling along his jaw, his chin, and the jutting outline of his nose.

In his long lifetime most had shunned him: turning on him with huge swords and fearful expressions. But with you, he no longer was the ghastly monster, he just simply was.

"Beautiful...." You breathe

Sukuna's own breath faltered,

"You think I'm beautiful?" He sounded surprise, unsure, -- a kind of insecurity that should have terrified him, -- but it was with you, and he embraced this vulnerable state.

You smile softly, only Sukuna with his cursed vision could make the shape out in the dark,

"Very."

Sukuna wanted to lick the worship off your lips.

The lower arms on your abdomen tighten.

Silently, your fingers meet the rough start of his second face. You freeze, feeling the harsh change in texture from his smooth skin. Sukuna hesitates; would this be where it all came to an end? When you look at him with anything but deep adoration? Where the affectionate touches would be met with violent resistance, and you'd hate him, find him to be the grotesque and horrifying monster everyone else did?

Sukuna hated himself for feeling so hopeful.

But you simply start your exploration again, fingers travelling up and down the rough expanse of melded flesh.

"Fascinating.."

Sukuna was surprised; you found his second face fascinating.

He waited for the moment you'd change your mind, stop lying to yourself, start spitting crude insults and accusatory words, to swear, to hit, to resist him in some way.

But it never came.

You trace the rough folds of his face with a caress nothing short of adoring.

For the longest time, he had been denied this.

Sukuna's eyes were closed now. He couldn't comprehend the mixture of emotions he was feeling in this moment.

He was completely exposed, vulnerable... beautiful...

His second face... usually filled with terror... was receiving such tender care.

His thumbs trace to the hem of your top, gently pressing down into the soft skin, rubbing what he hoped were affectionate caresses. No one had ever made him feel such a way before, and he wished to show you the same affection, the same adoration, as you showered onto him. He had to admit he was quite inexperienced-- making contact with another living thing usually had some violent motive, but all Sukuna desired to do was wrap his arms around your tinier body -- shield you from the rest of the world. The idea of anyone else getting this kind of attention from you filled him with a strange bitterness unknown to him: jealousy.

He could feel every tiny detail of your movements, every inch of you getting slowly leaning in closer, every carefree intake of breath. He felt envious of the way the oxygen so effortlessly entered your lungs, how you inhale it without a second thought. It would be so easy for him to simply reach out and crush your windpipe, steal the air from your lungs the same way you did his.

In this moment, he saw and felt it all. Every inch of your body was beautiful to him.

"Mmm..." he whispered, relishing in the feeling of your presence so close to him.

Carefully, tentatively, you dip your head down, bringing your face closer, lips softly grazing his cheek.

Sukuna almost choked.

The feeling of your lips on his cheek sent chills through his body. He had always seen himself as the menacing and terrifying harbinger of suffering who had to be kept at a distance.

But now, he was seeing from your view... And from your perspective, he was beautiful.

His heart pounded against his chest as he felt your breath on his cheek.

Then you kiss him;

Every muscle, every tendon of his body seemed to tighten, and you were surprised they didn't just snap altogether.

All kinds of new, delicious sensations coursed through him,

Mwa :3

He had spent countless years of his life slaughtering people and taking control of everything he could... But here, he was weak again, like a newborn child.

He felt his breath grow short, labored, completely lost in the sensations of the kiss. All his fears and regrets, all the pain and misery accumulated from his years of cursed isolation, separated from the world around him, becoming the untouchable King of Curses, -- It all melted away. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, pressing you against him. Having you so close, you seemed so delicate to him, yet you were exploring him without hesitation, without fear, the first person he had encountered in so many years who didn't think of him as a monster.

His muscles were completely tense, but he had no desire to stop. He was enjoying every second of it.

You were kissing him, and he felt your tongue peek out from your intertwined lips, slipping into his mouth and meeting his. You fit so nicely against him, his hands slotting perfectly onto your waist, hips fitting like two puzzle pieces. It was all so... soothing to him.

The way you were taking control was indescribable--your kisses making his heartbeat so fast he swore it would explode, his breath was fast and short. He didn't think he could keep these feelings in for long without combusting altogether.

You pull away, gasping for air (unlike Sukuna, who as a curse, if he could have his way, would have kissed you for hours, days even).

"Your touch is.... divine"

Sukuna could bathe in the way you gazed at him, the way your eyelids drooped, the way your bright irises shone up at him through your lashes. Many once eerie, cold maroon eyes met yours with enough loving reverence to shake Heaven Herself.

As the word left his lips, he was staring at you. The look on his face was one of utter contentment and happiness.

You had kissed him so delicately, so tenderly. He felt every sensation burn itself into his mind, desperately grasping to remember the way your lips felt on his.

His grip on you was gentle and cautious. He didn't want to crush you. You were so small and slender. Such a frail and delicate human in his grasp. Yet the same, you were something else, something he had never experienced before.

You wanted something so intimate with him. It had Sukuna spiraling deeper and deeper into a side he had long since forgotten about. He felt frail, weak... human, -- yet Sukuna couldn't find it within himself to care. The rush of sensations and emotions he felt from your contact, from your kisses and the way you touched him, -- It was intoxicating.

He wanted you, every single part of you...

No matter what.

---

You laid with him that night, and he took you-- right on the dirt ground beneath a sky of stars. Sukuna reveled in the way your body writhed underneath him, such a beautiful, fiery creature.

He bent down, placing a gentle, loving kiss to your forehead, licking the salty sheen of sweat from your skin. You shudder, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as another hot lick of pleasure curdles through you, searing white.

He couldn't get enough of you, decades of societal neglect and the absence of human companionship had starved Sukuna, and you were a whole feast. He ravished your body, the carnal hunger never satiated until he filled you with his full.

You clung desperately to his strong forearms, nails digging into the firm muscle. Incoherent babblings cascaded from your lips which he dipped down to hungrily lap up as you mewled underneath him. He'd crash his lips onto yours, the sweetness almost lost from the first time, -- drowned in the desperate need of the kiss.

Two large hands held you steady, keeping your legs apart and waist in place as Sukuna continued his rolling thrusts into your lower abdomen. Every snap of his hips against yours sent another coil of pleasure curling in your stomach.

Puddles of his seed bubbled from your opening, leaking through the small crevices and corners from where his massive cocks somehow didn't take up. You swear you almost shatter completely the moment you feel those sharp teeth graze the walls lining your insides.

Sukuna smiles from inside of you, two long tongues lolling out to lick at the coating of your guts. He pulls out the slightest bit, just enough so a relieved smile breaks on your face. He wished there was a way to permanently engrave the moment your hopeful expression shattered into his brain-- the way your eyes widen in horror, your mouth slacked open as the two tongues bully their way between your organs. They twist, intertwining, drinking the wetness from your body dry almost, and coming to a deadly point prodding at your stomach and swirling your intestines.

You cry out, the agonizing pain clashing deliciously with the pure bliss you felt. Your mind blanks and all the colors melt together.

Everything turns molten. Sukuna reaches down between your thighs, taking you in one big hand. You choke on your own spit, coughing and spluttering, hands flying to your crotch, only to be gently swatted away. Sukuna chuckled, gently pushing your body down as your back arches.

He continues to play with you in his hand, kneading the flesh between the pads of his fingers. He runs his knuckles up and down, coating his fingers with the tears from your crying tip. He tugged you playfully, watching like an eager puppy when your relief pours into his hands, drizzling in between his fingers, squirting onto his chest, painting the black markings white.

Sukuna places two lathered fingers into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you sitting on his tongue, and he sucks down hard.

He needed you like the earth the sky's rain. You gave meaning to his long, empty, accursed life. You were forever damned to him, and Sukuna would have it no other way.

You were his god, his stars, his beauty.

And he found you absolutely ... divine.

<3

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

[A/N]: the other kind of lobotomy kaisen

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk oneshot #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x male reader #jjk x male reader #x male reader #x male smut #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader fluff

[codenamesazanka]

you know that post that's like "dads will casually drop the most horrifying lore of their lives suddenly in the middle of a conversation and never bring it up again"? That should be AFO.

*random mundane conversation about animals*

AFO: ...Ah, raccoons. I've always found them awful tasting. Of course, that was probably because my younger brother and I were eating the roadkilled ones that were left in the sun for hours. Rotted meat has the worst texture.

Ujiko, Tomura, Kurogiri:

#everyday I remember that AFO and Yoichi were orphaned trash babies probably dumpster diving for survival #All For One #AFO #bnha #mha #heroaca #nalslastworkingbraincell

[bumblekastclips]

KYLE CROUSE: Alright, we got one last question. It’s from JediPony. [chuckles] Love that name, I don’t know why. It makes me laugh. [reading question] “How would you write an 06 adaptation in Sonic X?” Here’s the question, would you write the 06 adaptation in Sonic X the show, or Sonic X the comic?

IAN FLYNN: [laughs] KYLE: It’s very— two very different things. IAN:Very different things. I don’t know, if we’re gonna be true to the source material, then Elise doesn’t really have a role, and Chris is the one who has the Flames of Disaster sealed inside him. KYLE: [laughing] Oh no! Oh! IAN: “Chris, whatever you do, you can’t cry!” [as Chris, weepily] “But why?!” [Iblis roar] KYLE: It’s all he does! [laughs] No! IAN: Oh, man, now I’m imagining Mephiles with, like, that really bad early 2000s CG effect. All these awful filters flyin’ around. KYLE: Oh, God, no! [laughing] This would be awful. IAN: You’d have, like, the budget episodes where Soleanna and New City are just, like, these flat, grey urban textures that have like, no depth, but then you get to the final episode where they’re doing the Super fight against Solaris, and the animation bump goes through the roof, and it’s glorious. And you forgive the last 26 episodes of your life that you’ve wasted watching it so far. KYLE: Mhm. IAN: [choking the words out through high pitched, wheezing laughter] This means Chris is the one that kisses Sonic back to life! [fit of maniacal laughter] KYLE: [frantic, horrified laughter] No! No! No! No! Ian, no! Ian! No! IAN: [prolonged cackling laughter] KYLE: The worst timeline! Oh, no! IAN: Oh, and Eggman has to be as close as they can get him to photorealistic Eggman in the Sonic X style. KYLE: No! IAN: Which does not work at all! KYLE: No, no, no! No! This is not going on the thumbnail! No! IAN: [wheezing laugh] KYLE: No, do not put this on the thumbnail! [laughing] IAN: Oh, my goodness, just imagine the art errors for Silver’s head alone… KYLE: Oh… no… oh, no… at least Dan Green could still be the voice of Mephiles. IAN: Oh, yeah, that’d be fantastic. [microphone glitches] That’s the only reason to do this. KYLE: That would be— yeah. Oh… IAN: Oh, would they try to hand-animate Omega? Or would he be like, early 2000s CG? KYLE: Just crappy CG, no! IAN: That you just composite into each shot… oh, man, it’d be awful! KYLE: [pained sound not unlike he is receiving a fully conscious appendectomy] Oh! IAN: Wait! [microphone glitches again] They did the weird thing with Sonic and Shadow’s spines when they would turn their heads. What would Silver look like?! KYLE: [resigned groan] IAN: Would it just be like, one giant spine, depending on the angle? [bursts into laughter] KYLE: [groans as if he is dying] Ian… what are you doing… why are you— IAN: [microphone glitches again as if resisting] The Iblis monsters would have the terrible CG effects, too! KYLE: Why am— why am I the reasonable one!

IAN: [laughs] KYLE: Why am I the one who’s being… [gives up on finishing this sentence] IAN: Forget the comic, the comic can’t hold a candle to this idea! KYLE: Oh, no… IAN: [in awe] What a glorious trainwreck! KYLE: What’s even funnier is that your mic is trying to stop you. IAN: [cackles] KYLE: It’s not working. [laughs] So cursed! IAN: The whole thing would be so awful… KYLE: Yeah? IAN: But then there would be, like, this incredibly well-written and poignant subplot about Elise dealing with her emotional trauma, and how Soleanna as a country even works. And it’s like, maybe an episode, maybe two that really gets into it and fleshes out this world in a meaningful and robust manner. KYLE: [chuckles] Yeah. IAN: And that’s it. That’s like— that and Dan Green are the only redeeming things out of this season. KYLE: [sigh, reading chat] Ian, in the chat… IAN: Yeah. KYLE: In the Bumblekast Discord server, open it up. There’s a little piece of art there. Someone has, uh, sketched Silver. [chuckles] IAN: [seeing it, delighted, evil] Yes! KYLE: [laughing] IAN: Cursed Toucan Sam! KYLE: [cackles] Oh no! Why do you…? No! Awful! Toucan— IAN: [as Silver] “Just follow my nose, wherever it goes!” KYLE: [horrified, amused] Toucan Silver! No! [emits the world’s most drawn-out, pained cry of defeat] IAN: Psycho-beak-nesis! KYLE: [laughing] Bumblekast was a mistake! IAN: [laughs] It was, but at least we’re over with it for today. KYLE: [laughing] Oh… I guess so.[outro music fades in]

EPISODE THUMBNAIL by the incredible @nintendoni-art

—— TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Please remember that nothing that is said on BumbleKast is canon! It’s just some guys and their opinions occasionally spitballing ideas. If you don’t like an answer, you don’t have to take it as Word of God or anything like that. It’s all just for fun!

#bumblekast #ian flynn #kyle crouse #sonic the hedgehog #idw sonic #sonic x #sonic 06 #princess elise #silver the hedgehog #soleanna #e 123 omega #eggman #writing questions #Youtube

[brights-place]

heyyy, if you’re still taking requests, i wanted to ask if you could do a fem kpop troll x john dory (romantic hcs)💕

one more thing…maybe also how he reacts when he finds out that his girlfriend is an (kpop) idol, when he also is an idol🤭

John Dory with an fem! Kpop S/O

Pairings: John dory X Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: This is just some Head-cannons from the K-pop X Reader for John Dory and Branch I have mixed in with the Headcannons for an K-Pop! idol reader（╹◡╹）♡

- You guys met when poppy was inviting the sub genres to pop village to show them pop music since it was their turn to show around the different genres of their style of music

- John dory was suppose to be helping sort out different sub genres when it came to you and the K-pop group he paused and stared at you and your group

- You appearance was gorgeous you had an unique texture to your silver-colored bodies which gives off a glossy rainbow chrome effect - you had an voluminous f/c hair swept to the side above their right eye with a smaller tuft of hair above your left ear and wearing a glossy leotard of matching colors you fit in with your group well but you stood out to him. - Your thick eyeshadow of different colors and how you glowed made him stare at you as Wani tried to get his attention to help sort out the groups - Stared at you as you glanced at him giggling before leaving with your group as John Dory walked over to branch to ask about your group

- “The K-pop group? Oh there just pop but in Korean… it’s horrifying aswell how good they are” Branch mumbled “Thanks Bitty B!” - He saw you again when he was gonna preform to show some of Pop music to you all he noticed how you stared at him the whole time how you smiled and glanced to your K-pop group who nodded together and you all quietly in sync danced abit with the music

- When it was the your groups turn you danced and sang as people screamed and enjoyed your dancing with some screaming the English lyrics of your songs as some stared confused but enjoyed it and how entrancing it was

- John Dory stared at you in awe the whole time smiling thinking you were an small group that just enjoyed dancing unaware you were quite popular in your K-pop genre

- After the show he walked up to you and asked you about yourself to get to know you better while Wani, Ari, Kim-Petit, Gomdori, and Baby Bun were giggling and leaving you two alone - John dory walked over with an smile that made you blush slightly on your slightly shiny skin as you two shook hands "I'm JD it's nice to meet you?" "(name)" you said smiling as he smiled "Your K-pop right?" You nodded as he asked questions and you'd answer them the two of you exchanging information - which soon turned to talking about other music and then turning to your own personal life's and things you likes - You went on an whole rant about your music genre telling him that K-pop was caracterized by catchy hooks, polished choreography, grandiose live performances, and impeccably produced music videos, K-pop including music by groups like BTS and BLACKPINK which where most popular and now frequently tops the Billboard charts, attracts a fiercely dedicated online following while you and your group were bigger then others and famous John dory didn't know that. - That's what made you calm he didn't know you were an Idol like him - You started to bond together and he asked if you can teach him some K-pop dances and he could let you go to all brozone concerts for free

- You were happy the deal worked out be he was even happier that you wanted to g see his concerts

- You two exchanged dances you even taught him your K-pop dance for one of your bands is songs 'Feel My Rhythm' which he loved so much but he didn't know it was your K-pop group - As an surprise he preformed it with his brothers on the concert as he posed and pointed an finger towards you playfully before going back to dancing

- You two would be laughing together back stage as you complimented him so much "John dory you put my bands- I MEAN My favourite bands song in your concert?" John dory smiled "we did an english version you translated it all for me thats why I wrote it down"

- You literally teared up "정말 친절해요!" you exclaimed hugging him as he blinked confused as Wani appeared from thin air and whispered to John dory "They said you were really kind" Wani soon ran off once again giggling

- He was slowly learning Korean just for you even though he absolute SUCKED at it you found it adorable

- You two slowly started to get comfortable with each other so sometimes you'd be staying over with him or he's staying over with you.

- Branch was going to grab John dory for rehearsel saying good morning to rhonda opening the door to see you sleeping in john dorys arms drooling and john dorys head on your neck sleeping aswell

- Branch literally deadpanned as poppy squealed so happily at the scene

- Denies he has feelings for you due to the fact your too good for him... like he fels bad that he even likes someone like you so he wanted to ignore you cause your too good for him

- You on the other hand get teased by Wani, Ari, Kim-Petit, Gomdori, and Baby Bun while practicing for an concert of yours - He was ignoring you which made you feel hurt so you invited him to your concert begging him to come after finding him and asking him to just go so he could just see you on stage

- Literally whipped for you so he 1000% agreed to hugging you and apologizing for ignoring you and you even asked for the others to come as well!

- When he went to the concert his eyes were wide when seeing you sing in Korean and dance happily as you noticed john dory in the crowd you grinned even wider dancing before posing while panting - He heard Better place being played along with his brothers and turned to you dancing and singing his parts made his eyes widened while he blushed an deep shade of blue as his brothers teased him - After the concert as usual you tackled him in an hug excitedly telling him you did what he did for you at his own concert with brozone

- You two grinned him holding your waist with your hands on his shoulders as you giggled happily as he chuckled looking down at you before you kissed each other - The others cheered as Baby bun was shouting an "FINALLY!" so loud as you started to curse your friend out in Korean as john dory chuckled holding you back by your waist "사랑해요" You literally froze - Once he said that you literally tackled him once more to pepper his face with kisses for learning how to say 'I love you in Korean'

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

#fluff #headcannons #x reader #fanfic #headcanon #headcanons #john dory trolls band together #john dory trolls #john dory x reader #john dory #trolls 3 movie #trolls band together #trolls #trolls x reader #trolls 3 #enjoy

[twistedroseytoesy]

Heyy! i can't seem to find a rules page and I don't know if your requests are open or not but if they are I would like to request a megalodon!reader x octavinells

If your reqs are closed please ignore this

Have a good day (^°^)/

Thank you for inspiring me to make a rules page! Also ask box is always open, Might take me a while to post the story to asks. But it’s always open annd they will get done unless I say otherwise! Thank you for the request!

Description

the most deadly and historically known terror of the sea other than the Kraken. Thought to be extinct. Until you came along. From another world where merfolk exist along with more ancient forms of sea life. Your mer form is a startling 47 feet long, rendering you the size of a whale. Many who saw your mer form believed you to be a whale, until they saw your many rows of gigantic sharp teeth. Your jaws are a bit larger than normal and you have a scary bite force, able to bite through steel if you really tried.

Your human form is an intimidating 8 ft tall. With a shark toosh smile similar to the tweel's smiles, you just have multiple rows of teeth. a rather prominent jaw to house your impressive bite and larger strong limbs to show that you are an apex predator. Anyone who tried to mess with you would come beaten and bruised, maybe a broken bone and a bite mark if they truly pissed you off.

Octavinelle

Azul: Honestly thought you weren't that smart due to how you acted more like a cliche jock. Tried to trick you into working for him as a bouncer and waiter due to your impressive size and strength keeping many in line. Unfortunately for him, you knew of his shady dealings and gave him a piece of your mind. Over time he started to work his way into being a friend of yours. He was also the only one more than happy to serve you so much food, you ate a horrifying amount that would make most buffets struggle after you left. asks to have some of your teeth if you shed/lose any so he can sell them, gives you 40% of the profit. Congratulates you on being a part of Mostro lounge's first official merch, the megalodon tooth necklace!

When he first encountered your mer form he nearly inked himself at your huge size! You're the size of a whale with the abilities and cunningness of a great white shark! you teased him a bit at how bite-sized he and the twins are compared to you, but you've grown soft for them so they can stay around.

Overall he's fairly scared of you for good reason. Eventually gets you to work for mostro lounge as a bouncer and a merch supplier in return for you getting large meals that would make any competitive eater gawk in awe.

Jade: Finds you so fascinating and asks many questions of what other animals are common in your world but extinct in this one. At first, he is rather annoying to you, like a dolphin that wouldn't leave you alone. Of course over time he is able to find and connect with you over interests in the world above the sea. Despite your large size, you enjoy the hikes through the mountains with him and the trivia he shares. You enjoy the texture of wood and like biting large branches in half for the fun of it.

When he first encountered your mer form he was in awe. Carefully circling you and feeling every part you allowed him to. the way he liked to cling to the underside of your right fin reminded you of the large remoras that liked to accompany you back home. you humar his questions and if he tried to vagly threaten you or annoys you enough with questions you easily fling him out of the water.

Overall, he is interested in you and your powerful jaws' abilities. Collects your teeth after experiments for the lounge and tries to find something for you to safely chew on other than old tree branches. asks too many questions for your liking but oh well.

Floyd: Called you "Sharkie" at first because you acted like a big tough shark he knew once. Likes to climb you due to your large stature. laughs when you throw him off. Also likes it when you chase him because he tried to bite you. You're so much fun to play and mess around with! once he is told what you are he calls you either "megalodon" or "mega shark".

When he first saw your merform was one of the few times he was entirely still around you. There are very few things that are larger than him and jade other than some whales and they are harmless compared to you now. When you smirk at him he zooms around you. Asking excitedly if you were a megalodon. you say yes with pride and he immediately tries to steal a tooth. able to get one just before you try to bite him in half. initiates lots of chasing games, usually, you chasing after him. Over time you find it rather fun, sometimes catching him gently in your jaws. Azul fainted one time when he witness you doing this. Jade looked about ready to murder before floyd happily wiggled out from between your jaws.

Overall, you're super fun to play with and he loves the danger adrenaline high you give him when you chase him in either form. also tried to do a biting competition but stoped when he chipped a tooth.

#octavinelle #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #my stuff #my writing #jade leech #Floyd leech #tweels #octatrio #twst x reader #Floyd x reader #jade x reader #octavinelle x reader #oh man that last one with floyd was fun to write #though while writing it i had shark tale flashbacks #anyway #fun shark reader but huge and alot scarier #the twins find you fun #and azul is SO scared of you #roses ramblings #hope you like it!

[dendrophalaen]

my thoughts on godzilla minus one

tl;dr i had a religious experience (positive) and it may be my new favorite godzilla movie

i'm going to try to organize my thoughts lmao i have never done a film analysis or review

story

i went in knowing next to nothing, so i was very afraid this was going to be heavy on the imperialist propaganda and reminiscing on the "good old days" of the japanese military

however i was pleasantly surprised to see that it was quite anti-government :]

loved the delivery of the themes of "all lives being precious" and "living on for yourself as well as for the sake of others" – not hammy or blunt!

FORESHADOWING OF THE EJECTION SEAT? chef's KISS we love picking up what the movie is putting down and getting to see the payoff

speaking of foreshadowing:

dr. noda: [takes noriko's picture]

me: oh no she's going to die

i spent like the last quarter of the movie with a headache because i was clenching my teeth and holding in tears after noriko's death ("death") AND koichi planning to blow himself up and orphan akiko

and all the ex-navy guys rallying together to defeat godzilla

i am not immune to classic story beats

semi-related i thought noriko would be covered in radiation burns, but then i realized a depiction of that would probably be insensitive

also the guys measuring radiation in plastic costs? come on now i know we weren't fully educated in the risks of radiation but there must've been some sort of better ppe

characters

i enjoyed like every character which is rare for me in a godzilla film

koichi just can't catch a break. this man gained so much trauma in a short amount of time, like he doesn't have ptsd because the trauma is ONGOING. i think he's my favorite and it's very easy to root for him

his introduction is of him as a shaky baby-faced pilot and then you find out he was supposed to be a kamikaze pilot like goddamn

i liked noriko's assertiveness ("hey i'm staying in your house now :)") and her ability to see kindness in koichi and sumiko

her struggle of wanting to become independent is very relatable. you could see the bittersweetness in her eyes showing that she felt guilty yet grateful for koichi's support........

i was surprised how quickly sumiko agreed to taking care of akiko? but it makes sense since she was (is) a mother and could not bear to see another child suffer, and akiko gave her life a new purpose

i would've liked more focus on the female characters and i don't think it's fair to just blame it on the era :playdead:

i really liked the chemistry between dr. noda, captain akitsu, and mizushima

dr. noda in particular felt like a nice foil/parallel to serizawa from the 1954 movie; he's also a scientist but he's much more personable(?)/"human"

dr. serizawa was my favorite in 1954 but he was very anguished and set on making reparations by killing godzilla (and koichi could be a parallel to him in that regard)

noda focused on protecting the living, not avenging the dead

ough mizushima. being a Youth who feels useless sure hits home

i'd say tachibana is my least favorite just by comparison to everyone else, but he's honestly so valid for his whole deal

visuals and sound

very elegant color grading, costuming, and set design!

i don't know film girl help

GOOD SOUNDTRACK the music set the scenes so well

i joked about getting my eardrums blasted by godzilla but he really was that loud. as he should be

godzilla (design, abilities, etc)

SWEET JESUS THIS IS THE SCARIEST GODZILLA BY FAR

godzilla: [shows up in the first 10 minutes with blair witch shaky cam]

me: the filmmakers are not messing around they mean BUSINESS

the rampage on odo island was rightfully terrifying

i love his texture and face. the scrunkliness of heisei with the horrifying pain of shin

i think his head is a bit small for his body, like if it was 5% bigger it would be perfect

loved the visuals of his scales flaking off after getting bombed

the nuclear fallout when he used his atomic breath in tokyo was awe-inducing

great use of godzilla as a war allegory

i saw the movie in d-box so the shotgun-blast of heat ray was intense

also coolest godzilla death. sick decapitation

the plan to imprison him in bubbles and give him the bends felt a bit silly in the moment but highlighted how desperate everyone was for ANYTHING to work

really liked how godzilla was more like an animal or unstoppable force of nature without a clear motive

i mean the only emotion you could ascribe is probably RAGE

sidenote i did think it was a lil funny whenever an object was flung through the air from offscreen. there goes godzilla having another tantrum

#maybe the high will wear off and i will have more critical thoughts later lmao #dellabeatalks #godzilla #godzilla minus one #godzilla minus one spoilers #godzilla spoilers

[ohnoitstbskyen]

First saw one of your videos in 2018, I think! When Kai'Sa was released... lol. I was so looking forward to her release, but finally seeing her design completely soured me on it, and none of my friends saw a problem with the discrepancy between her character's Premise and the design's Visual Language. Naturally, I looked for like-minded people on the world wide web, and found your video! It articulated Kai'Sa's main issues better than I ever could and was cathartic to me. Been subscribed since then. 😊

Kai'sa is like 90% such a great character, and then 10% a collection of the single most wrong-headed character design decisions you could possibly make to communicate why she is such a great character.

"I am a horrifying monster, everyone naturally shuns me, I am alienated from humanity! They will always hate me for what I have become!" broods the supermodel in the skin-tight bodysuit with perfect makeup, immaculate hair and no scars, who very occasionally wears a slightly spooky helmet.

In the official announcement comic they juxtapose her sculpted, perfect ass and objectively gorgeous face with an angsty monologue about how her awful outside appearance will forever leave normal people in terror of her terrible visage. In the official announcement.

The artist who did the splash art for Hollowspun at least had the good sense to try to dial up the strange textures and fucked up geometry of the suit to make her look weirder and more insectoid, so that it is at least moderately visually plausible that someone would be repulsed and terrified by her appearance.

There's also the sensible basic visual storytelling idea of "oh hey what if instead of showing her entire and obviously normal human face we intentionally cover it up so it creates the kind of scary visual implication that she is imprisoned within her Void armor? That her humanity is a thing smouldering under an inhuman surface, repressed and hidden away by a decade of lethal peril?

And that maybe Kai'sa actually actively pushes people away and tries to frighten them because she's terrified that she can't protect them and facing the prospect of losing her entire community to the Void again is simply to painful to face?

AND WHAT IF WE PAIRED HER UP WITH THE GIRL WHOSE WHOLE ENTIRE THING IS FOUND FAMILY AND LOVE OF COMMUNITY???

WHO REACHES OUT FOR HER EVEN THOUGH SHE IS ACTIVELY TRYING TO BE HOSTILE???

What if we did that instead of juxtaposing a perfectly sculpted ass in a spandex with the words "maybe someday they will accept what I have become"? What if that?"

... anyway, I have extremely normal feelings about Kai'sa and her story and her character design. I have thought about this a normal amount. For legal reasons I am not planning to throw rocks at Riot HQ until they release more Kai'sa/Taliyah stories.

#tb answers #kai'sa #kaisa #taliyah #league of legends

[henrysglock]

Ramble...7? I think? Anyway: On the topic of Radiation

So. As per the ADHD. I was getting sucked into a morbid curiosity black hole re: radium.

And I found out about this guy, Eben BYERS, whose entire jaw fell off after being treated with radium in the late 1920s. (Disturbing image of Eben Byers below the cut at the very end for reference.)

So obviously I went "lol What the Fuck", because of course I would when something horrific happens to someone with the last name Byers, and when I tell you this guy and his brother (L and R respectively) are DEFINITELY from the ST Byers family??? But like...if the ST Byers were real people. I mean just look at them.

So of course I was like "Okay. Jesus Christ. WHAT is going on in the house of commons, because this is peak Stranger Things-type body horror", which landed me back in human experimentation territory.

Turns out, there was a whole raft of radium based shit going on, mostly between 1940-1970, mainly children being used as test subjects for nasopharyngeal radium irradiation (NRI), which was meant to treat a bunch of conditions.

(An aside: NRI is known to damage the soft tissues of the nose, and you know who has no fucking nose???

Vecna/Henry. Do with that what you will.)

One thing that really stuck with me, though, is that radium glows bright green. Sound familiar?

I know plutonium was mentioned, especially in regard to the manhattan project, where plutonium is depicted as glowing bright green. That said...plutonium is not a bright, glowing green in real life. This is plutonium in solution.

Either way, discussing this with Aemiron brought me around to looking at radiation in regard to MKUltra. Lo and behold...

Radiation treatments. In MKUltra. Which was canonically happening in Hawkins.

And then Aemiron brought up the point about Will and the Jaws poster, as well as The Thing, which evidently starts with the mouth when it turns victims inside out. Which, this all sounded an awful lot like the Flayed (melted) to me.

I don't have a point here, not yet, but I could have some absolutely horrifying ST5 Mike Vecna vision theories in regard to this weird coincidence (?).

One last thing about the Byers family (irl)? Eben's brother had a child named Nancy and a child named Buckley. Interesting on the names, huh?

--

Another thing that interested me while I was reading the case document (where the screenshot about MKUltra came from) was the Green Run project back from 1949.

Xenon-133 is an asphyxiant. You know who "officially" died from exposure to an experimental chemical asphyxiant? BARB.

There's already some radiation fuckery going on in Hawkins. But it just keeps going.

--

Along the lines of radiation in general, though.

The demogorgon, Henry's transformation, and just ST4 in general smacks of Chernobyl. If any of you have watched Chernobyl, you'll know what I'm talking about.

I have comparison pictures here for cinematography and character design, but also others under the cut (those ones are kind of gruesome).

What is going on here?

In conclusion: What on earth????????

And more importantly...what the hell are we going to see in ST5?

Eben Byers (Jawless)

Henry vs Vasily Ignatenko's Radiation Poisoning

(Plus the Demogorgon for good measure re: skin texture vs radiation burns)

#stranger things rambles #rambles #adhd blackhole #stranger things theories #tw graphic #tw human experimentation #tw child abuse #stranger things #st5 speculation

[mister-eames]

In A/E, who cooks the most delicious meals and who is the most efficient cook? those can be mutually inclusive but more often, they are not so, thoughts?

I think Arthur is really good at four (4) meals. But like, REALLY good - you know those dishes you always pester your mum/dad/parent to make because it's so good every time and it makes you Feel Something and its probably the first thing(s) you learn to cook because it's SO GOOD. That's Arthur. Except he disdains the process of cooking and would rather avoid it. He would--and has--eaten crackers for dinner if he was eating alone. Eames pesters him to cook any of those four (4) meals but he doesn't often do it. Cooking seems like such a waste of time, you know? But he gives in when he's got the time, because it makes Eames happy. And him too.

Eames cooks lots of delish meals. Effortlessly. Loves a recipe book/blog/channel. He also cooks his fair share of bad ones. I say he has a 70-30 ratio of amazing to awful meals. Can whip up the most amazing curry or stew with just his intuition to guide him one day, and then make the most god-awful casserole the next with the most fucked up flavours and horrifying textures. He has two modes: turning water into wine and burning water. Arthur doesn't mind, it's part of Eames charm - he doesn't mind regularly replacing charred pans, as long as he's not the one cooking.

#arthur x eames #inception #don't get me started on food as a love language #and how passing on a beloved recipe to your family or friends or whoever means part of whoever passed on to you gets to be shared too #and how their memory never really fades #whoo boy #anyway #good ask nonnie

[rn-zane]

TIMING: recent SETTING: coffee house PARTIES: @vanishingreyes + @rn-zane SUMMARY: two people who happen to work in healthcare meet up and... click.

Zane was late and desperately hoping that his new friend wasn’t the type to show up ten minutes early to a coffee hang out. The thought of Xóchitl having waited for over ten minutes was horrifying enough but twenty minutes? If that hadn’t been even more rude, he probably would have scurried off home to hide from the consequences of his awful time management. Plus, he did like the idea of sitting down with her for a chat. She seemed nice, earnest. 

Cold air followed him into the coffee shop once he finally scrambled through the door, apologizing profusely to the woman who had just been about to exit. A quick, almost frantic survey of the coffee shop confirmed that Xó hadn’t simply given up and left, and that she didn’t look annoyed. “Hi, hey,” Zane greeted breathlessly, smiling apologetically as he sat in the empty chair across from her. “I’m so sorry, time just got away from me and… anyway, good thing I already offered to pay because I’m definitely doing that now.”

Tugging the hat from his head, put on mostly for appearances since the cold didn’t really bother him that much, Zane made a futile attempt to control the disarrayed curls that became free. “What are you having? I’ll go order for us.”

—--

She figured that she could use someone to hang out with who was easy company, and who she didn’t want to sleep with. Not that she assumed Zane was unattractive, but she was rather overjoyed (inasmuch as she could be) at the prospect of maybe having a friend that would start as just that, and not as a hookup of some sort. Plus, he seemed like he needed a friend, maybe even more than she did (not that Xóchitl was readily admitting the fact that she did maybe need a friend, but still. Zane needed one even more.)

“You don’t need to apologize,” she gave a flick of her wrist, dismissing (she hoped) any further apologies that he might have attempted. “But yes, you can still get the drinks for us.” Xóchitl didn’t mind being treated, and she was also fairly positive that Zane would collapse into himself like paper if she denied him his wish, so she’d let him do what pleased him, and then, if this went well, repay him sometime.”

“I’ll have a chai. It’s not super authentic here, but I’m also hardly an expert on that, and it does a good job as far as being an enjoyable drink. What will you have?” Xóchitl tucked her phone into her bag. “You should get yourself something to eat, too. Feels like I should say that especially because of the whole fact that you’re a nurse in the Emergency Department and likely don’t have a whole lot of free time.”

—-

Further apologies died on his tongue at the flick of Xó’s hand but it did little to quell the apologetic smile that was still glued on Zane’s face. Nodding along eagerly as she gave her order, he shrugged off his jacket to hang on the back of the chair, hoping his face didn’t twitch when she mentioned food. “I’m good with just drinks at the moment, honest. Don’t worry, my coworkers are really good at bothering me about nutrition.” He’d had to brush off more worries about his eating habits than he could count, even going so far as to vanish into the breakroom to be able to lie that he’d had a meal there. 

With one last smile, Zane went off to order their drinks, returning with a steaming chai and a cup that looked more like hot chocolate than coffee, topped off with whipped cream, caramel and some tiny marshmallows. “New winter special,” he explained as he finally took a seat, trying to shake off the anxiety of being late. “I’m bad at resisting caramel flavored things. And tiny marshmallows.”

The first sip was wonderful, the texture of the warm mocha with the whipped cream, coupled with a few pieces of marshmallow doing enough to make up for the lack of being able to really taste it. Grabbing for a tissue to wipe off the cream that now smudged his upper lip, Zane chuckled awkwardly, unsure of where to start this conversation before deciding to just dive in. “I’m… really happy you wanted to meet. You seem nice and, well, never hurts to have more nice people around, right?” 

—-

“Just drinks works for me too, I just figured I’d be rude if I didn’t at least offer, and also I did want to genuinely offer. Make sure you’re doing alright and all that.” She didn’t want to care this much, but she couldn’t help it, apparently. Which was a curse itself, but not one Xóchitl was going to get too into at the moment.

“I think you’d be someone without a heart if you could resist such things.” Xóchitl offered him a small smile. Of course, she played at hating sweets as often as she could, but of all the façades she kept up that one the least. It also wasn’t one she saw it fit to stress out over, at least not too very much. Not right now, at least. The last thing she wanted (or rather, one of the last things she wanted) was for people to think that she avoided indulgences because of some health worry. It was all rooted back to trauma, but that also wasn’t something she needed to focus on or let Zane know anything about. “So long as the marshmallows aren’t stale – I like them when they’re actually correctly squishable.”

“I agree entirely. About having nice people around. I’m glad that I seem nice – you do, too.” She offered him one of her far more genuine smiles. “Did you grow up here? I forget if I’ve asked you this before, or not… also, I am glad we finally met. God knows I need more people at the hospital who I can tolerate.” Xóchitl let her smile come mainly from her eyes, that time.

—--

Zane chuckled softly at her encouragement for the sweet drink, even as the comment of being heartless hit a bit too close to home. Of course he still had a heart but it wasn’t really serving a purpose other than simply being. If an education in healthcare hadn’t already proved beyond a doubt that emotions did indeed not spawn from the heart, his current situation would have been a solid example. “Not sure if I need someone supporting my sugar addiction but I’m definitely not complaining,” he joked.

Looking her over, Xó seemed like someone who wouldn’t have a hard time finding company, whether platonic or not. Her smile was infectious and she seemed so sure of herself, much calmer than Zane who was trying his best to not squirm in the seat. “No, just been here a couple of years. Started nursing school and just sort of stuck around, I guess. As good as any other place,” he explained, although being literally stuck felt more accurate. Where else would a solo, freshly turned vampire go? At least here he had a place to stay, a few people to care about. His hand stilled as he realized he’d been pulling at the ends of his curls, unraveling them and making the already messy locks even more disarrayed. 

“I’ll try to keep myself in that group, then.” He smiled, patting down his hair and fighting the urge to throw his hat back on. “Sorry, been putting off a haircut as you can see and, anyway, what about you? No way you’ve been here your whole life.” 

—--

“Well, I’m an independent woman, and I think I can choose to support whatever it is that I please.” Xóchitl grinned, “and listen, if it makes you happy, and it’s not harming anything other than maybe your teeth, why shouldn’t I approve?”

She could feel his eyes looking her over, and for a moment she straightened up even more, doing her best to appear as perfect as she could. Not for any reason other than the fact that she genuinely wanted Zane’s respect. There was nothing other than platonic feelings toward him, but he’d called her nice and kind so many times that Xóchitl absolutely wanted to prove him right. Make sure she was what he expected. He seemed like he needed predictability and consistency, and if she could give that, she absolutely would. Every time. “Well, I’m sure the town’s all the better for you sticking around, I know I’m glad I got to meet you.” She watched him play with his hair.

“I bet you’ll do that no problem.” Another kind smile, another sip of her drink. “Have you ever considered dying your hair? Not saying you need it, and I’ve personally not done it, but I think it could suit you, if you’re trying to be more out there.” Xóchitl should’ve known to expect the next question. She could’ve lied, but it felt cruel to do so. “I was born here, moved away as a kid, and just came back in March. So no, got my beginnings here but haven’t lived here in just over twenty years.”

—--

Zane chuckled, enjoying the easy conspiracy of encouraging bad behaviors of this caliber. A safe thing to joke about but also something that made him feel like he’d known the woman in front of him for longer than the short conversation they’d had online. Definitely a personality trait that came in handy for a psychologist. “Ah, of course. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do. Especially since out of the two of us, you probably have better instincts.”

Sometimes, in the presence of kindness like this, Zane tended to feel undeserving. Maybe because of all the secrets he held or simply because he felt more comfortable being the one on the giving end of kind words and actions. That feeling was lingering now, wanting to prompt him into making excuses, try to convince Xóchitl that she wouldn’t feel the same if she knew everything but thankfully, he kept those intrusive thoughts in check. Instead, he settled for an embarrassed smile, one that would have been accompanied by a blush if physiologically possible. “I’m definitely glad, too.”

Her suggestion caught him off guard, the cup of empty calories stilling against his lips for a moment before he finally took a sip. They’d talked a bit about their differences online, Zane’s tendency to stay back, far from the spotlight while Xó seemed to crave the opposite. The idea was just that, an idea, probably just her thinking out loud but it did spark some interest in his chest. “I… haven’t. Until right now.” He smiled, toying with the idea. It would definitely be a point of conversation at work. Maybe even a… confidence boost. “I mean, knowing me I’ll think about it and postpone it until the end of time since I’m not great at spontaneity but it would be fun.”

Nodding along to her explanation, Zane finally raised his cup towards her with a soft smile. “Then let me say that the town is all the better for your return.”

—-

“Well, that’s high praise considering we’ve only just met, but I’ll still take it.” It was easy to like Zane, and it made Xóchitl all the more grateful that someone like him was in the medical field. She knew from direct experience how unfortunately rare that was, and even if she normally just did her best to get through the day without having to interact too much with anybody else. Mostly because work friendships weren’t really her thing. In fairness, friendships of any sort weren’t really… her thing. Despite the fact that if anybody wanted to prove the contrary, they had plenty of evidence to do so. 

She couldn’t help but smile at his smile, and find a certain sort of childlike charm in all of this. Which was a nice change of pace, and even if she wasn’t going to explicitly say so to Zane, Xóchitl could show him with her words and expressions that she in fact enjoyed this, and it was nice to talk to someone where the only possible underlying goal was friendship. 

“I mean, we could do it today.” She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “That would make for a story to tell, don’t you think?” Xóchitl nodded, “no pressure, obviously, but if you want to do it, I’m down. This sort of spontaneity doesn’t hurt anybody and can just be plain old fun, so if you’re down, I’m down.”

She tapped her cup against his. “Well, again, you’re very kind to say such a thing.”

—-

It had been way too long since he’d been in company this comfortable, this stress free. He was meeting people, sure, but Emilio was… Emilio, things were still always a bit tense with Jonas, being around Chris just made him inherently awkward and that last meeting with Wynne had been alright but not… good. Zane would have been tempted to somehow slip in the fact that Xóchitl was gorgeous and kind but far from his type if not for the fact that she seemed to be on the exact same wavelength. An honest to god friend date. Even if this would end up being just a one time thing, he was grateful for it all the same.

Even if this sudden change in conversation was making him a little jittery. 

“Really?” he chuckled, somewhere between nervous and giddy at the thought. Zane did want to make sure Xó had a fun afternoon and he had mentioned that getting outside his comfort zone would be a good thing. “I mean, everywhere is probably booked for the day and I’m guessing this sort of thing probably takes a while and you have places to be…” He trailed off, realizing how gloomy this all sounded. “You know what, yeah. Let’s do it. Or at least try. Worst case, we can get one of those box dyes and hope my hair doesn’t fall off.”

—-

It was nice to just be able to talk to someone. Of course, she had people like Emilio, and like Jade, and Wyatt and maybe even that strange musician, Conor. But to have something fall into it all as easily as this was? Absolutely brilliant. Xóchitl would’ve used the word magical if it didn’t seem preposterous to use. Though Zane did have a pretty ideal sort of magic presence around him.

“Yes really! I don’t usually do things I don’t want to do. Plus, you’re a lot of fun.” Except she could practically feel the cloud that covered him, which only made Xóchitl all the more keen to go out and do it. “Yes! Good. Let’s do it! We can try box dye, or I’m happy to bribe any salon into finding an opening for us.” A mischievous twinkle appeared behind her eye. “It’s really up to you, but I’m absolutely and totally down for anything you want to do. Proud of you for suggesting something that’s a bit wild but also very fun and safe.” Because she didn’t want her possible-new-maybe-friend to get hurt (or die) on their very first hangout.

She didn’t want him to ever get hurt (or die), but it would be especially awful if it all happened at the very start of everything.

—-

Her excitement was so contagious, there was no ignoring it. Zane couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it would have been like to grow up with siblings - well, have siblings and a normal childhood, maybe. Being blood didn’t matter, that much he’d learned over the years. His found family might have been a bit strange at the moment, an odd assembly of such different people that it was a wonder he could care so much about all of them. Maybe Xóchitl could fit in there, be another reason this town wasn’t quite as awful as it regularly attempted to be. 

So yeah, his breath hitched a little when she said she was proud of him for something as silly as this, and it was probably a bit weird that he already felt needlessly protective of her. It didn’t matter because right now, they had a hair salon to find. “Heck yeah.” Smiling, Zane felt light as he dug out some cash to leave as a tip, bumping his shoulder fondly into Xó’s as they moved for the door. 

#writing #vanishingreyes #thread:xóchitl #xóchitl.001

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Undergoing Restoration

Prompts:  Hi, I absolutely loved Out of Commission!  You're so amazing at Roman angst, oh my gosh.  If you would like, I would love to see a sequel to this where Logan Patton and Virgil learn to be more gentle with Roman, but no pressure at all, I love what's there already! - anon

hi! so uh i’ve been lurking and reading every last roman angst you’ve written and i figured it’s time i throw out a prompt (it’s cool if you’re not taking any at the moment).

So how about some roman angst with some creativitwins where Remus gets protective and pissed after finding out how shitty the others are towards Roman. I’ve been wanting more of that after reading part 3 of Snap.  - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: rejection sensitive dysphoria, self-destructive behavior, self-doubt, self-esteem issues

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 8019

Nothing lasts forever, not even good things. Especially not good things. Everything comes to an end—and some would argue that’s what makes them so special, what makes you truly appreciate what you have when you have it—and everything begins again. 

Even the bad things. 

Roman sighs, rubbing his cheek against the pillow as he curls up under the blankets. He still hasn’t regained full use of his hands, not even with the help, and so he’s resigned himself to flopping around a bit just to get his head on properly before he eventually falls asleep. 

This isn’t a good night. Frankly, it never is, not when his hands keep aching and his body keeps doing its best to persuade him that he deserves to be shot for what happened earlier. Which is stupid, it’s stupid and awful and horrifying and he hates it, hates it, but he’s incapable of holding something precious in his hands and not breaking it open to see what makes it so special. 

…alright, seems he has to eliminate licorice root tea entirely if it’s going to make him this dramatic. 

Except if Thomas ever does theater again. Then he’s gonna slam a mug of that right before the performance and call it a day. 

He grumbles, turning for what feels like the eightieth time that night and settling onto the cool side of the pillow. 

What really isn’t helping is that he can’t figure out why Janus was being nice to him earlier. Remus is—Remus is his brother and he loves him, loves him so much it hurts because how could Remus love him back—except he does because despite everything Remus is good and Roman, Roman just isn’t, not like that—but Remus helps him because he loves him. 

How could someone like Janus ever love him? After all he’s done to him, because of him, how could he ever hope for anything more than begrudging tolerance?

But no, Janus was kind to him earlier. Offered him a place to sit on the couch, somewhere to stay while the world moved too fast around him, and then he—he—he held out his hands and asked for Roman’s and he helped. 

Roman tugs his arm up to look at his left hand. It flops back and forth, still getting used to the feeling of being used once more. If he concentrates, he thinks he can still feel the rough texture of Janus’s gloves against the worn and weathered skin, brushing down his palm, his fingers, everything. He can still remember how gentle Janus was, how achingly tender, and how soft and sweet he’d been at the table too, asking for the other one and caring for it silently, hidden beneath the surface where no one else could see. 

But…but why?

Does Janus want something from him again? Did he mess up too much and now he needs to be controlled? Do they need to—to condition him to get help as long as he behaves?

A spark of rage flares in his chest, sputters, and dies under the oppressive weight of the cold pit yawning once more, spreading and spreading until his hands flop lifelessly against the covers. He muffles a whine and buries his face in the familiar smell of the fabric. 

It’s cold. 

God, he wants to sink into the mattress and never have to move again. Wants to let the cold swallow him whole and just make him stay, make him not go out because he gets hurt out there, he doesn’t want to be hurt anymore. 

Especially because he knows, he knows if he ever dared breathe a word of this to someone who isn’t Remus, they’d laugh at him or scoff and say that he should be so dramatic. 

The spark crackles defiantly, straining against the cold. Do they think he chooses to be like this? That one day he woke up and decided that yes, he wants it to be so he can’t even tolerate vague feelings of rejection or disappointment without feeling like his body wants to tear him in two? That he wants it to feel as though everyone has to walk on eggshells around him because he’s so breakable, so fragile, and he can do whatever he likes because they aren’t? Do they think he’s so weak-willed and stupid that he thinks he can get away with insulting and belittling others only to cry like a baby when they so much as defend themselves?

Is that what they think?

That he’s doing this on purpose?

Don’t they understand that he hates it? He hates feeling so fragile, so breakable, so fucking stupid that he can’t so much as breathe wrong without feeling like he’s going to hurt and lose the ability to use his hands. Don’t they understand that he’s not telling them because he’s trying to make it easier? They shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him, they shouldn’t have to be so careful about what they say in the vague promise that they’re going to hurt him, he doesn’t want them to know so they won’t look at him like that. 

Like he’s breakable. Like he’s fragile. Like he’s made of finely spun glass, shattered at the slightest brush of someone else. 

Roman squeezes his eyes shut and another whine muffles itself in his throat. 

An idea springs to the front. A horrible, stupid idea that will not only not help him in the slightest, but will run the risk of Remus finding out how bad he is and coming right over to help, not let him wallow in how miserable he’s becoming. 

Yes, that’s probably a good idea, and yes, that’s what he’s supposed to do, but the lure of quick and easy hurt is too much. 

So, with useless hands and trembling legs, Roman gets out of bed and stumbles to the Imagination door, pushing it open and staggering onto an empty stage. 

The theater is silent. The seats are empty. The lights blare down with unyielding exposure. 

He stands, ready to be flayed. 

“I am incapable,” he mumbles, the words to the old poem rolling off his tongue, “of holding something in my hands and not imagining how it would break. 

I toy with paperclips until they snap, 

I bend the metal until it gives under my broken fingers

And I toss away the remains,

Reaching for the next one.

Sometimes I keep a broken piece, twist it around and around the part of my thumb

Because that is all I know how to do.”

Roman looks down at his useless hand and watches it shake. 

“To carve bits of myself and see what remains.”

Is that not what it is to create? To break yourself into smaller and smaller pieces and scatter them like seeds?

“It becomes a game

To see how long I can hold something and resist the urge to break it

I don’t want to break things but

I am good at it.”

He swallows, a lump forming in his throat as he looks up into the lights. 

“But when you have a hammer every problem looks like a nail,” he croaks, 

“I have been hammered into round holes as a square peg

Enough times to know. You do not

Fix

Something like me,

I am not meant to be flexible.”

And isn’t that just the worst irony? That Creativity cannot bend and shape itself to whatever needs suit it?

Roman swallows again, the lump building and building in his throat, until he has to spit out the next words. 

“I would make a terrible mother.”

The theater is silent. 

“Do you know how easy it is

To fuck up a child?

How easy it is to mold them, twist them, break them,

So much can be done by doing so little

Or nothing at all. 

Do not give me your children,

I will only ruin them. 

That is all I know how to do to things when I hold them for too long, I break them.

Children should not be broken and

Remade and

Broken again.

Do not give me your children, 

I don’t know how to not break myself.”

Broken hands, broken ideas, broken prince. 

“Your daughter will look at you one day,” he warbles, clutching his chest, “and ask

Am I pretty?

And you will want to grab her and shake her and say

Of course you are,

You always will be,

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, 

But you will also want to say

No

To relieve her of the awful burden of being pretty

But it will come out of your mouth wrong.

Pretty is not the rent you pay to exist in the world as a woman.”

Roman takes a shuddering breath, his arms aching and chest heaving as he faces the relentless silence. 

“How could I justify

Bringing a child into the world

If not because I love them and want to see

A human grow

A person become

A someone?

I do not want a baby

A child 

A teenage

An adult

And to be a parent needs to want

A baby

A child

An adult

And to want each moment and stage

And to love a teenager

Even when the can’t love anything but the notion of

breaking.”

Roman looks down at his hands and turns them over, legs shaking from the effort of holding himself up. 

“Do not give me your children, 

I can’t hold something without breaking it.”

And oh, what a delicious irony that is. It goes down like spoiled milk. 

“People expect you to say sorry when you break things,” because that’s all he ever does, 

“And so I do,” and so he does,

“Sorry, I didn’t realize

Sorry, I didn’t mean to

Sorry, it was an accident

Sorry, it was just so easy.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, 

I spend my life in a state of repentance

For crimes that fall from my hands

As easily as memories fall from time.

Do not give me,

I don’t know how to have.

I only know how to say

Sorry

Once something is broken.”

And now, given the stage, given the light, given the words, the spark of rage flares up so strongly it burns through him and he whips his head up, staring accusingly at the empty seats. His tongue loosens and the next words fly from his lips like arrows. 

“But why should I apologize

When no one has apologized for making me this way?

When I have a hammer

Everything looks like a nail

When I am nail

The world is my hammer and I can only say

Sorry, sorry, sorry

As I am forced to break whatever falls on the

Wrong side of my sharp edges.

Do not give,

I don’t know,

I don’t know who broke me first

Was I made broken?

Was it a set of parents who didn’t know I was broken?

Was it a selfishness that always wanted 

But never got

And so worried itself to the point of breaking?

Was it her?”

His voice catches. No, no, he’s not supposed to blame anyone else, it’s not their fault, it’s his, he’s gone too far, he needs to stop, he—he—

“Her,” his lips say anyways, “who still breaks me even though I haven’t seen her?

Her, whose fingertips still bruise me in my sleep?

Her, who stripped every bit of flesh from my bones and

Refused to give it back?

Perhaps I am broken over her. 

Perhaps I am broken because of her. 

Perhaps she is just my ex-excuse.”

He swallows. 

“…to break.

Do not give me your children,

For I am just a broken child.”

The lights are warm. He’s sweating, panting, staggering under the weight of invisible gazes, even as he scans them frantically knowing he won’t find anyone. 

“I was not taught to love myself,” an accusation, 

“I was taught to love how useful I was

How smart

How clever

How compassionate

How compliant

How good.

I was taught to hate 

My looks

My voice

My body

My self

I was not taught to love

I was taught to

Break.

It is so painfully easy to fuck up a child.”

The theater heaves, shuddering under the force of Roman’s breathing, Roman’s pain, Roman’s existence. He’s going to break this too if he doesn’t stop. 

“It was a mistake to write this,” to say this,

“A mistake I can’t stop.

I can’t stop it.

I can’t stop it,

It won’t stop coming. 

I can’t stop it,” he gasps, grasping at his chest, scrabbling uselessly, “I can’t shut up, and before long it will hurt, it keeps hurting, it never stops hurting, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, you need to stop, you need to go, I can’t stop but you can stop reading, you have to stop, you need to go, I’m sorry but you need to stop before I—

Break

You.”

The sorry leaves his lips like a whisper. 

“Do not give,” comes torn from limp lips, 

“I can’t have.”

The shaking figure on the stage looks up and out at you. 

“are you still here?

did you stay?

why did you stay?

I told you to stop. 

I told you it was a mistake.

Just a mistake. 

sorry. 

Do not,

I can’t.

The poets lied, by the way,

(If you’re still here,)

When they said there was beauty in broken things.

There isn’t anything beautiful 

about this broken mess

And I don’t fancy having you cut your hands

And bleed trying to find it.

Beauty is not the rent I pay to break in this world. 

This isn’t perfect,

Isn’t good,

Isn’t anything other than a mess

Mess is bold,

Yes, sometimes,

But mess is mess

A mess of ruined and broken things

Sorry, I think I broke it

…do you think anyone would ever apologize for breaking me?

Broken, breaking, to break

To break again, to break apart,

To break, to have broken,

Breaking,

broke.

It hurts, it does

To break.

If you care about something,

Don’t let me hold it

If you love something,

Don’t let me touch it

If you think something is pretty,

Don’t let me break it.

And if by some magic,

You found something beautiful 

In my broken mess,

Well,

You’re

    a

            Better

    poet

            Than

I could ever be.

A broken puppet collapses onto an empty stage, its strings cut from useless hands. 

————

Virgil is worried. 

Not just because he’s Anxiety, fuck off, but because he hasn’t seen Janus or Remus around in a while and the last time he heard from Remus, he was muttering something about fourth walls and keeping everyone safe and that’s never a good thing to hear from Remus. 

It’s not a good thing to hear in general, but if Remus is worried about something, best be damned sure Virgil’s going to worry about it too. 

Anyway, the point is he hasn’t seen the two troublemakers in a while and that means they’re either planning something or something horrible has happened and they’re avoiding the fallout. 

He keeps trying to think about what happened to start the whole thing, when they started to pull away, when things first, like, became obvious. 

Luckily, Logan—who for some reason is on much better speaking terms with Remus than pretty much everyone—said that there’s no reason to worry about the Imagination. Apparently, there was just a strong burst of energy one night that pushed the boundaries a little bit, easily contained and dealt with and it’s nothing to be concerned about. 

Which is great, and Virgil likes very much that Logan has this information and he’s certain about it, but that doesn’t answer the question of where Janus and Remus are and why they’ve been so distant lately.

Now, the next person Virgil would normally ask about this stuff is Roman, but Roman’s been busy trying to work on all the ideas lately and Virgil really doesn’t want to distract him. They’re running a bit behind schedule anyway and if he gives Princey an opportunity to not do his work, he’s sure Patton and Logan will find out and do the whole ‘not mad, just disappointed’ routine. 

Fuck, he hates those.

So. Trying to find Remus and Janus on his own it is. 

He can tell by the growing sound of the chainsaw that Remus is in his room, which makes things much easier for him, and quickly conjures a pair of waterproof boots, a waterproof coat, and a pair of safety goggles. 

He’s learned not to walk into Remus’s room unprepared. 

Sure enough, a spurt of a liquid flies at him as soon as he opens the door, dodging it at the last second and wincing as it splatters all over the wall. He turns to see Remus elbow-deep in…something, holding the chainsaw and glancing up to see what the interruption is. 

“Emo!” 

“Hey, Remus.” Virgil stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What, uh, whatcha got there?”

Remus grins, reaching down and holding up a…drink? “A smoothie!”

“That’s not—y’know what? That’s on me.” He shakes his head and steps a bit closer. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, sure, you want me to put this away?”

“…you mind?”

“Nah. Gotta wash up soon for dinner anyway.” Remus presses a button on the wall and the wall spins, taking the…let’s call it a carcass, taking the carcass away and leaving him to snap his fingers and clean up the rest of the tools. “What do you want?”

“Just, uh…haven’t seen you in a while.”

This is the Dark Side, he has to be extra careful not to summon Janus. 

“Mm, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Remus hums, walking to a large sink and beginning to scrub at his hands, “been busy.”

“Oh?” Pushing his luck, he edges closer. “What, uh, what’re you working on?”

“Oh, y’know, this and that. Kraken’s laying a new brood in the Imagination, got a bear trap to work on, all the stuff from Halloween is still trickling in so I gotta catalog that and rework some of my other shit…y’know, things.”

“Wow. Didn’t realize you had so many projects.”

Remus cackles. “Doesn’t run itself, you know!”

“Wish Roman could have some of your productivity.”

The instant it leaves his mouth Virgil knows he’s said something wrong. 

Remus pauses, glances up at him in the mirror, and slowly turns off the water. He looks over his shoulder, staring at him until Virgil starts to fidget, then looks away. 

“What does that mean?”

“Just, uh,” Virgil stammers, “y’know…I’ve never seen Roman work on so many projects at the same time, he, uh, he normally just does one at a time, so—I dunno, I thought it’d be cool if he could…y’know…”

Remus stays quiet, turning to face him and crossing his arms. He raises an eyebrow like he knows Virgil’s not doing a good job of explaining himself. 

“…y’know,” he tries, “have multiple things on the go at once? He’s been working on the same idea, for like, a month.”

“Is this the one you keep asking him to redo?”

“…yeah, think so.”

“And what makes this the only project you think he’s working on?”

Virgil frowns. “Why would he work on other things if this one’s not done yet?”

Remus suddenly glares at him like he’s being a hypocrite. The force of it makes him step back, shoulders hunching defensively. 

“What?”

“You’re right,” Remus says cooly, turning around and beginning to wash his hands again, “you shouldn’t bother Roman until he’s done with this idea for you guys. Wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“I shouldn’t—wait, who said I was going to go bother Roman?”

Remus shoots him a look over his shoulder. “You came to ask me about him, didn’t you?”

“N—“ Dark Side, Janus, don’t lie— “look, I just haven’t seen him in a while, okay?”

Remus hums. “Yeah. ‘Cause he’s working so hard on that idea for you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You see Janny?”

“…no.”

“Then that’s that.” 

The sink gets louder and Virgil knows he’s being dismissed and gets the heck out of dodge.

That was…weird. Why was Remus so mad? And what’s he doing with Roman? And what does any of this have to do with him?

Virgil leaves with more questions and no answers. 

————

Patton knows something’s up and it’s upsetting his kiddos. Logan’s been more withdrawn, Virgil won’t stop muttering, and he’d struggled to see hair or hide of Roman on most days. 

Strangely enough, it’s Janus he sees the most of, not that he doesn’t like spending time with him but even the most mundane of conversations aren’t expected from him. 

“Hey, Janus?”

“Hm?” He looks up from his book. “Yes?”

“Is…everything okay?”

Janus tilts his head and closes the book, marking his page deftly with a bookmark. “Is there a reason why it shouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I haven’t seen everyone around lately, that’s all.” He nods at him. “It’s mostly been you.”

Janus raises an eyebrow and holds a hand to his chest. “Well, if you were sick of my company—“

“No, no, that’s not what I mean at all!” Only when he notices Janus’s snicker does he realize he’s been had. “Oh, you slippery snake, you fooled me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, hiding a smile, “it was right there.”

Patton huffs, hiding a smile of his own, and shaking his head. “I don’t know, Janus, I just—I feel like everyone’s kind of…hiding? Did something happen?”

Janus hums. “When did you first start noticing it?”

“After that dinner, the last one we all had together, I think. It was right after that. Do you think something happened during the dinner?”

“Is there anything you can think of that fits that description?”

“Well, we didn’t make all the food we normally do ‘cause we’re running a little low in the kitchen, there was that brief little argument between Remus and Virgil, but they do that all the time, don’t they?”

“Mm.”

“And…that’s it. I don’t think anything happened.”

“So then perhaps it wasn’t the dinner.”

“But that’s when it started.” Patton closes his eyes, thinking. “Yeah, that has to be when it started because the next day Roman and Remus didn’t come to dinner and then you didn’t come either.”

Janus reclines in the chair, hand under his chin. “Did you ask Roman or Remus why they didn’t come?”

“No, but Logan said he did. He said that they were…working on something, I think.” Patton shakes his head. “Gosh, with the amount of time they say they’re spending on things, you’d think we’d see more of it, wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t notice the way Janus’s hand curls into a fist. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Huh?”

“When you say you expect more,” Janus says, and he does notice the way Janus’s tone is a little sharper, “what exactly do you mean?”

Patton frowns. “Well…you know, maybe, like, a few more ideas? I mean, at the last meeting, the most workable idea we had was the Q&A and that’s not even that original, at least until we agreed that he’d try and come up with something along the lines of a debate instead—“

“Did you have any ideas?”

“Huh?”

“During the meeting, did you have any ideas?”

“Oh, that’s not my job.” Patton leans back against the couch. “That’s Roman’s job. He’s Creativity.”

“So you don’t come up with the ideas?”

Patton frowns. “N-no, I don’t—Janus, what’s going on?”

“You are not Creativity,” Janus says evenly, sitting up a little more, “it isn’t your job to come up with the ideas. So why would you know what that’s like?”

“…what what’s like?”

“Being the one who has to submit the ideas at the meetings.”

“I—I mean, I guess not, but what—Janus—“

“Then perhaps,” he says, standing up and taking his book with a swirl of fabric, “you should think about that a little bit more before you start asking for more.”

“Asking for—Janus, wait!”

He pauses, looking over his shoulder as Patton swallows. 

“Are…are you mad at me?”

Janus just looks at him. “Why would I be mad at you?”

And then he’s gone. 

…well, that wasn’t a no, and if the rest of this conversation has been any indication, that’s as good as a yes. 

Great. Now Patton’s got to figure out why Janus is mad at him. 

Okay. Did he do anything to Janus? No, he doesn’t think so—they’ve been on really good terms lately, they’ve been cooking together, they spend time just reading in the same room, they’ve even watched one of the movies alone when everyone else canceled. 

Did he…say something wrong? 

Patton furrows his brow. 

They—they’d been talking about everyone else. Maybe he said something then. But Janus seemed to be fine with everything until he brought up—

—until he brought up Roman. 

But why would Janus be mad at him about that?

Maybe Roman’s still holding a grudge against Janus? But they’d been doing okay—at least Patton thought they’d been doing okay—so why would bringing up Roman make Janus mad?

Maybe…maybe it’s not just Roman? He’d brought up the fact that they were running a little behind schedule and then he’d gotten upset, is that what it is?

No, that doesn’t seem right either. 

No, he’d only gotten upset once Patton had said—

Patton’s eyes widen. 

…once he said how he’d wanted more from Roman. 

How he’d been disappointed, how he’d blamed—well, not outright blamed, but heavily implied—the delays on Roman, and how he wanted Roman to do more. Ever since the meeting, they’d been—

Oh. 

The meeting. 

Just as Patton realizes why everyone’s been so distant, Virgil appears, tugging on the strings to his hoodie and looking at him with a somber expression. 

“Patton, I think we messed up.”

————

If there is one thing Logan truly cannot abide, it is an unanswered question to an unsolved problem. 

The question currently occupying the majority of his attention is why Roman has been so hard to get a hold of. 

He has not missed any of the planned meetings, no, and he has not failed to submit a draft of an idea once—granted, they have not all been spectacular or even marked improvements, but they have been submitted—but other than that, it has been exceedingly difficult to speak with him. 

The few times he’s tried to knock on his door, it’s either been to a sign that says that Roman is working and is not to be disturbed—which he respects entirely—or that he’s not in at the moment. He’s caught sight of him with Remus—or Janus, surprisingly enough—but the two of them have always been in transit to the Imagination or entering Remus’s room. 

He has barely made any appearances at dinner, which are always understated or vague when he does, and it’s been…quiet. 

Logan doesn’t mind the quiet, but he does mind when it comes at the expense of Roman. 

With this in mind, after another meeting, he retreats to his room to gather his thoughts and set aside all of his notebooks and paper and decides to go and speak to Roman. He’s agreed to come to dinner tonight—a relief, truly, he hasn’t seen evidence of Roman eating enough lately—and perhaps he can speak to him beforehand. 

At the very least to reassure himself that everything is okay. 

He goes to Roman’s room, prepared to knock, when he sees the door is slightly ajar. HE frowns, walking closer, knocking anyway and waiting for a response. 

None comes. 

“Roman?” When there’s still no voice, he eases it open gingerly, only to see an empty room. “Roman?”

Still nothing, and he closes the door carefully, turning and going to see if he’s perhaps in the Dark Side’s living room. He’d sunk out with Remus, after all, it wasn’t out of the question that the two of them were there. 

He walks into the living room, intent on calling out for one of the twins, only to stop abruptly when he sees Roman sitting on the couch. 

“Ah, Roman. There you are.”

Roman doesn’t respond, doesn’t look up, does not so much as move. Logan frowns, opening his mouth to chastise him for it, only to pause. 

Roman isn’t moving. Not just in reaction to Logan’s arrival, but…not at all. His hands lie limply in his lap, his head is bowed so he’s staring at a spot on the floor, and he scarcely looks as if he’s breathing. 

“…Roman?” Logan leans to see if he can see Roman’s eyes flicker at all. They don’t. “Roman, are you okay?”

Nothing. Of course there isn’t anything. It follows that if Roman didn’t react to him before, he couldn’t react now. With this in mind, Logan steps forward to see if he can provide any additional assistance—

—and startles quite terribly when Virgil appears next to him. 

“Virgil!”

“Uh, hey.”

“Don’t do that,” he sighs, adjusting his glasses, “you startled me.”

“Didn’t mean to.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Someone summoned me.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t.”

“No, I mean—someone got scared and I got summoned.” 

Logan frowns. “Someone got scared?”

“Yeah, do you know what—“ Virgil’s head finally turns and he notices Roman. He freezes. Then his shoulders slowly relax. “…oh.”

“‘Oh?’ What does ‘oh’ mean?”

“Roman’s scared, L,” Virgil says, suddenly speaking softly, “that’s why I got summoned.”

“Yes, I gathered, does that mean you know what’s wrong with him?”

Virgil winces. “Not in so many words. Hey, hey, don’t,” he says, quickly holding out a hand when Logan moves to get closer, “you’re gonna scare him more.”

“Does he think I’m going to hurt him?” 

“I don’t know, L, I—just don’t get closer right now.”

“Virgil, he’s almost catatonic, I don’t—“

“Yeah, he’s also right there and can hear us so just…shh for a moment, okay?”

Logan hasn’t taken his eyes off of Roman. “But he’s hurting,” he says weakly. 

“I know.”

“…what do we do?”

Virgil sighs. “We call Remus, I think.”

“Remus?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna summon him.”

Before Logan can say anything, Virgil does indeed reach out and summon Remus, who promptly looks around at the situation and levels a glare at them so powerful it makes them take a step back. 

“Don’t look at me,” Virgil defends, hands raising, “I got summoned when Roman got scared and I’ve just been standing here.”

Remus’s glare turns to Logan who finds himself wanting to raise his hands too. “I simply wanted to find Roman after the meeting, I came in here and I found him like this. I was only here a moment longer than Virgil.”

Remus glances around, likely waiting for Janus to stride from the shadows, and when no one else appears, gives them one last look that warns them to stay back before crouching down in front of Roman. 

“Hey, Roro,” he murmurs in a voice so achingly tender it makes Logan’s chest lurch, “you here with me?”

Logan can’t see what’s happening but Roman must give some indication because Remus’s shoulders relax a fraction. 

“Okay. That’s good, Roro. Can we do the blinks if I ask you things? One for yes, two for no, three for don’t know?”

Roman must blink. 

“Good, good job, Roro. Can you show me a no? Okay, what about an I don’t know? Okay, thank you. That’s good, Roro, you’re doing real good.”

Virgil shuffles closer to Logan as if to make themselves a smaller point of focus in the room. Logan turns a bit toward him, eyes still fixed on the twins. 

“Are you in pain?” A pause. “Okay, is it worse than last time?”

Roman’s in pain? How long has he been hurting? What was ‘last time?’

“Okay. Can you breathe okay?”

Logan has to restrain himself from stepping forward, seized by the idea that Roman’s unable to breathe. 

“You can? Okay, that’s good, Roro.” 

“What the fuck,” Virgil whispers beside him, and Logan finds himself echoing that sentiment. 

“Did something happen during the meeting?”

Another pause, and then Janus appears, taking one look around before his eyes fix on Logan and Virgil. They both raise their hands, ready to defend themselves, when Remus flaps a hand at Janus. Janus makes to step forward but Virgil holds a hand out. 

“He’s really scared, J, don’t—don’t get closer.”

“Can I come over for just a second, sweetie?” Even Janus’s voice is remarkably soft. “Just to hug you?”

Remus watches Roman carefully. “Yeah, Janny, but make it quick.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Sure enough, Janus walks over and carefully wraps an arm around Roman’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before pulling away. He walks over to Virgil and Logan and fixes them with a stern look, before turning and putting himself between them and the brothers. 

It stings a little. 

“Do you want them to leave?” A pause, then Remus tilts his head. “Was that a ‘yes, but no?’ Okay, do you want some of them to leave? Okay. Do you want Janus to leave?”

A pause. 

“Okay. Do you want Virgil to leave?”

Another pause, then Remus glances up and jerks his head. Virgil tips a two-fingered salute. “See you.”

“He’s gone, Roro,” Remus murmurs as Virgil sinks out, “what about Logan? Do you want Logan to leave?”

A longer pause, Logan’s chest growing heavier, before Remus breathes out slowly and nods.

“Okay, Logan will stay.”

Roman asked for me to stay. He wants me to stay. Logan lets out a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding. 

“Do you want them to come closer? Yeah? Okay.” Remus glances up and beckons them over, Janus leading the way as Logan crouches on the floor near Remus. 

Oh. Oh, Roman’s crying. Oh, dear. 

“Is this alright,” he asks, voice a tad hoarser than he expected, “can I stay here?”

Roman blinks once. Once is a yes. 

“Thank you.”

“Do you need to crash, sweetie,” Janus asks gently, “would that help?”

He blinks again and Remus nods. 

“Do you want help lying down? Or to go somewhere more comfortable?”

“One question at a time, Snakey.”

“Right, my apologies. Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“That’s a ‘no.’”

“Would you like to lie down?”

“That’s a yes. Easy does it, hey, hey, Roro, shh, it’s okay…”

Logan feels like an intruder here, watching an intimate moment that isn’t for him as Remus and Janus carefully lie Roman down on his back, his head pillowed in Janus’s lap, arms and legs positioned so they won’t fall asleep as Janus runs a hand through his hair. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he murmurs, “this okay?”

Roman blinks. 

“Good. Do you want to close your eyes and rest for a bit while we talk with Logan?” He smiles, still stroking Roman’s hair. “Yeah? Alright, sweetie, you go on ahead. We’re right here.”

Logan watches them for a moment longer, still taken aback at the intimacy, before Remus elbows him and he turns, facing the glare once more. 

“What did you come here for?”

“I wanted to speak with Roman.”

“What for?”

“I—I wanted to see if he was alright,” he says lamely, the words sounding weak even to his own ears, “he’s…I haven’t had the chance to speak to him as much lately.”

“So?”

Janus hisses lightly in warning as Logan opens his mouth. “I…I missed him.”

“You missed him.” Remus stares at him. “You tear down every idea he submits, demand he does more work, and you miss him?”

Logan splutters, indignantly drawing himself up, when Janus murmurs Remus’s name softly and Remus quiets, reaching out and carefully taking one of Roman’s limp hands in his. He starts to massage it carefully, almost like he’s trying to encourage life back into it. 

“…Remus,” Logan starts warily, “what’s…what’s going on with Roman?”

“He’s crashed.”

“’Crashed?’”

“Overwhelmed. Unable to function. In need of a reset.” Remus glares. “Crashed.”

“From what?”

“You.”

“M-me?” Logan looks up at Janus who stares back at him. “I did this?”

“Not just you, but yes. You did this.”

“What—how—I didn’t—“ Logan looks back at Roman’s limp form— “h-how did I do this?”

“Are you familiar with RSD?”

“…Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy?”

“Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.”

Logan frowns. “I believe I’ve heard the term before, but…I cannot say I am familiar with the diagnosis.”

“The gist of it is that people who have it process social rejection or other emotional pains in the same part of the brain as physical pain.” Janus raises an eyebrow. “In other words, being disappointing or being rejected physically hurts them.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

“And Roman’s the Ego,” Remus adds, “which means that if he’s starved of affection or positive reinforcement, he’s weaker and they get worse the more they happen.”

They…they did do this to Roman. He did this to Roman. 

“Does this happen after every meeting?”

“It’s not always this bad,” Remus says, “but yes. Something happens in almost every meeting because you bastards are not nice.”

“Remus,” Janus says, even though the chide sounds halfhearted, “that’s not helpful.”

“It’s true.”

When Janus doesn’t deny it, Logan looks back at Roman. Roman, who looks so small and limp and scared in Janus’s lap, his eyes still closed, his cheeks still damp. 

“…I never meant to hurt him,” he mumbles, “I…I didn’t know.”

“Well, you did. Whether or not you knew doesn’t matter. You hurt him. You really hurt him.”

Logan can’t stop staring at Roman. “Is…is he going to be alright?”

“Not anytime soon, not from this, but yeah. He’s gonna be okay.”

Logan sags in relief but Remus glares at him again. 

“And if you think we’re anywhere near ready to let you guys close to him again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“C-can I stay,” Logan asks quickly, “please? I want…I want to help.”

Another long lull, during which both Janus and Remus stare at him, then at each other, before Remus takes a deep breath. 

“You can stay if you’re willing to listen.”

“Yes,” Logan says in a rush, “anything.”

————

Patton can’t find anyone. 

He’s checked the living room, checked the Imagination, checked their rooms, checked the living room again to make sure none of them wandered in while he was looking, and he still can’t find them. 

He’s getting nervous enough to just summon one of them when Virgil walks into the room and he all but flies at him. 

“Virgil! There you are, I can’t find anyone, do you know what’s—“

“Slow down, Pop Star,” Virgil says, his voice low, “come sit.”

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Virgil sighs, waiting for Patton to sit down, before he scrubs a hand over his face and looks up at him. “Roman’s not alright.”

Roman? No, Roman was fine a few minutes ago, he was in the meeting, he was talking, he was— “What happened to Roman?”

“I don’t know, Pat, but it’s…whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s been happening for a while.”

“Can we go to him?”

Virgil shakes his head. “The others are with him now. They know how to help him. Well, no. Janus and Remus know how to help him. I…I don’t know about Logan. I left before I could find out.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil leans against the back of the couch, a frown on his face. “I don’t—look. I got summoned when someone got scared. Princey was…he’s not okay, I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Was he injured?”

“He’s in pain, apparently—“

“What do you mean, apparently?”

“Look, I’m just telling you what I know, okay? I got there, he was sitting on the couch and not moving and terrified, so neither me nor Logan were willing to get closer so I summoned Remus and he took it from there.” Virgil sighs again. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, Patton, but it’s—Remus made it pretty clear that it’s because of the meetings.”

Patton’s heart races. Roman’s hurt, Roman’s upset, Roman’s scared, and it’s…it’s their fault? “Can…can we help?”

“Not right now. I think Remus was about to bite my head off if I didn’t leave when Roman said he didn’t want me there.”

“Roman said he didn’t want you?”

“There were a lot of us, Pat, and I think we all surprised him when he was really vulnerable. Remus—Remus, it makes sense. He’s Princey’s brother, he’s—he probably knows exactly what this is and how to help Roman. Janus also seemed to know what was going on and I only got summoned ‘cause Logan accidentally spooked him.”

Patton bites his lip, hands twisted together in his lap as Virgil shakes his head. “Virgil, what do we do?”

“Right now?” Virgil lets his head flop miserably onto the back of the couch. “Wait.”

And so they do. They sit on the couch and they don’t say much and they watch the rest of the room for any sign of the others. 

How did he not notice Roman was getting hurt? How did he hurt Roman without realizing it? And how long has it been since Roman felt like he could tell Patton if he was hurting?

Patton’s not sure he wants the answer to any of these. 

Of course, when Remus shows up looking like he’s ready to eviscerate them, he knows he’s going to get them whether he likes it or not. 

————

There’s a hand in his hair. 

Roman comes back to his body slowly, finally breaking free of the cold pit taking his chest hostage, only to realize there’s a hand carding gently through his hair, nails scratching delicately at his scalp. 

It feels nice. 

…something’s wrong. 

He opens his eyes, half expecting to see Remus there, but not expecting to see Logan. 

And then Logan smiles down at him, hand still gentle and sure on his head, curving down to stroke across his cheek and Roman is so confused. 

“Hush, little one,” Logan says in a tender voice, “it’s alright. Don’t try and move too quickly, your muscles are going to be stiff.”

What is Logan doing here? He remembers Logan showing up but why—where’s Remus? Where’s Janus? What’s happening?

“Easy, sweetie—“ oh, there’s Janus— “it’s okay. I’m still here, I just needed to move for a moment. Shh, shh, none of that now, do you want to sit up?”

Roman nods, a little surprised by how delighted they both look when he does—maybe he’s crushing them?—only for Logan to reach down and still him when he starts struggling to move. 

“Hold on to me,” he instructs softly, “if you get too dizzy, lean on me and we can lie you back down. We’ll go slow, alright, darling?”

Roman shudders at the pet name, spoken with such sincerity that it threatens tears at the corners of his eyes, even as Logan’s arms wind around him. 

“Are you ready, Roman?” Roman nods, trying to reach for Logan too but he can’t. His arms aren’t working. “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan’s…holding him. Logan’s holding him. He’s holding him against his chest, cradled in his arms, leaning over him with his breath puffing slightly over his forehead, looking at him like he’s something precious. 

“Ready?” He asks as Roman finally manages to twist his fingers into the fabric of Logan’s shirt. “One…two…three.”

Logan lifts him up like he weighs nothing, moving slowly enough for Roman to get used to the feeling of being upright, until he’s propped up halfway across Logan’s lap, head resting against Logan’s shoulder and the crook of his arms, right next to his face. After another moment, he ends up leaning against the back of the couch, cheek pressed to the back, as Logan turns enough so he can see his face without straining. 

“There you are,” he says, still speaking in the soft voice that Roman never wants to stop hearing, “hello, Roman.”

“…wh—“ Roman swallows. “Where’s Remus?”

“Currently talking to Virgil and Patton,” Janus says, taking a seat behind Logan where Roman can see him, “but will be back soon, I’m sure.”

Roman looks from Janus to Logan and back. “What’s…what’s going on?”

“What do you remember?” 

“I…I sunk out after the meeting. I got here. I sat on the couch.” He frowns. “You…you showed up. Then Virgil. Then—then Remus—and then Janus and I—I—“

“Shh, shh, shh,” Logan murmurs, reaching out and ruffling his hair again, “easy, darling. You’re going to work yourself up again.”

“I think you’re doing a fine job of that,” Janus teases lightly, watching Roman’s cheeks flush as Logan showers him in the gentle attention, “he’s blushing.”

“He does that a lot, Janus.”

“Mm, surely those two things aren’t related at all. Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Janus says quickly as Roman’s face contorts, “I’m being mean, aren’t I? I’ll stop, I won’t tease, I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on,” Roman tries again, failing to keep the whine out of his voice, “why’re you being nice, what’s happening, I—what did I do?”

Logan takes a deep breath, hand still carding through his hair. “You’ve been hurting, Roman, from the actions of myself and the others. I wanted to come and find you after the meeting and talk to you, but…I found you almost catatonic instead.”

“I’m s—“

“Shh, none of that, little one.” Logan tugs his hair gently. “It’s not your fault. Janus and Remus explained everything.”

“E-everything everything?”

“Well, I don’t know. Only about RSD and how much you’ve…well, how badly we’ve taken care of you.” Logan smiles and lightly squeezes his shoulder. “I am…currently attempting to amend that.”

“…and the others?”

“I’m sure will want to do the same.”

“But that doesn’t have to be now,” Janus says quickly, as if noticing how overwhelmed Roman’s getting, “that can be…whenever you like. If you want to go back to sleep, you can. It’s up to you.”

Roman stares at Logan. He…he does want to sleep, and lying down in a bed sounds really, really good…but the thought of losing this, losing the softness and the care he’s being shown right now…

It hurts as badly as his hands. 

As if he can read Roman’s thoughts, Logan’s expression softens and he leans closer. “Cuddles, darling?”

A whine leaves his mouth and Logan chuckles. 

“May I carry you?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll come with,” Janus says as he belatedly realizes he doesn’t want Janus to leave either and reaches out for him, “don’t you worry.”

“Close your eyes if you like,” Logan bids gently as he lifts him up again, “we’ll get there in a moment.”

As Roman lets his eyes close and he’s laid down on a bed, his bed, Logan’s warmth wrapping around him, he thinks that perhaps this good thing doesn’t have to end for a while longer. 

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #Logan sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #fic

[dragonairice]

look!! awful dialogue time!! boom.

Day 2/??? - Approximately past noon.

Contrary to popular belief, Jeremy was very into nature. Of course, that was when said nature was devoid of unknown textures. And bugs. And annoying sunlight.

Alright, he was into nature just in theory, but this game world’s nature was shockingly bearable. Walking for the entire morning did tire him, but no Amor Seco, Cadillo, Catchweed Bedstraw, Cleavers, Goosegrass, Stickyweed, Sticky willy or Velcro plant had gotten in the way of the walk. He considered it a sound success. 

God damn, he missed his room.

As much as he wanted to complain about it, the walk had been silent enough to observe the surroundings. They had passed through about 3 other small hills, (1 of which was purple, and the other ones were, respectively, blue and bright orange, to his confusion and delight,) to their right at some point he saw what could be a forest, and in the distance a large mountain stood. He would need to know the names of all of those places to judge the worldbuilding skills of the developers, but for now he just enjoyed looking at them.

Silent enough for that, was the walk, but Myrene had talked just enough to stop his mind from starting the much procrastinated panic session he was due. Great!

She had provided useful information, such as “My place is right behind that peak, it’s not that far from here,” “You should totally avoid that swamp over there,” “I’m guessing you’re new new, so let me tell you that getting hurt will hurt, so try to avoid fights, you’re like a twig and I won’t be looking around for you until you respawn if you die.” That one had actually shaken him a bit, since he was not too fond of the whole dying idea.

He mostly stayed quiet until he was asked a direct question, which probably saved him many problems along the walk. An adorable little fox had, at some point, started following them along, but when Jeremy mustered the courage to kneel down and pet it, Myrene quickly drew her bow and. Shot the animal. God.

Jeremy honestly didn’t know what he was expecting, for it to automatically turn into a piece of meat? No, the poor thing just stayed there, bleeding out, and he was properly horrified. A small voice in his brain tried to soothe him down by saying “It wasn’t actually alive, it was part of the game, don’t worry, it probably didn’t feel the pain,” but it wasn’t soothing at all! He, for one, was in the game too, and could testify that he was very much alive. The tears that had involuntarily welled in his eyes were pushed down by him looking up. He couldn’t let Myrene see that he was this sensitive, what if she got angry? Or worse, left him there all alone?

Myrene picked the fox up and threw it over her shoulder, “Dinner,” she had said as an explanation. Jeremy’s throat pushed down the bile that had formed up. They kept on walking.

They walked for the entire day. Jeremy wondered what Myrene had been doing so far from home, or if she usually did such long trips (just for one fox, though? It didn’t add up to him, but most things didn’t, so he let it go.)

The sun had started going down when they arrived, a small (hamlet? village?) offered its warm orange lights from the distance. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but Myrene’s shoulders were the tiniest bit less tense. He missed his room, and wondered where Michael was, and what he would have thought of the sunset before him.

The panic wasn’t addressed by his brain when they got to Myrene’s place, either. Their arrival to the small village (it had a town centre, so it was definitely a village,) had been… strange. The people were so cordial, but something in their eyes was just empty. It reminded Jeremy of what school looked like from a distance, but more literally this time. Myrene had said hi to some of them, and sold the poor fox to the local butcher, and paid for clean (chicken?) meat. “Dinner,” she said again, and Jeremy didn’t complain at all. 

The village was, in all of his mighty eloquence, pretty. He was too tired to think of a better adjective. Picturesque maybe? No, that sounded too condescending in his head and this village was too pretty for that. Lanterns hung from the roofs of some houses, and on wooden poles like street lamps. Pretty. A cat ran across the street they were crossing (the main street was all pavimented with flattened rocks and stuff! Wow!)

They finally, finally got to a- cottage? (Yeah, it looked like a cottage, although Myrene didn’t look like a cottage person, more cabin-like, he thought)at the edge of the village, the structure looked pretty stable and had a bit of weeds growing on the front wall, very pretty (he really needed to find a different adjective.) He then realized that he had, in fact, followed a stranger to a second location, which happened to be their house, and there was a real possibility of getting murdered. What a genius he was.

They entered the place, and it almost made him relax. Not too cozy, but it looked lived-in, with some books on a shelf and some on the (living room?) table. Lived-in, but not as “lived-in” as his own home, thankfully. This place was devoid of any beer bottles or trash bags forgotten in a corner. He didn’t even mind the axe hanging down from a wall, at this point. 

An axe? An axe! His brain jumped between finding it “so so so cool” and “oh my god, I’m gonna get murdered.”

When all Myrene did was approach her kitchen,(it didn’t have a stove, per se, that would be ridiculous to find if this was the kind of game Jeremy supposed it was, but it did have something resembling a stove- no, he didn’t know what it was called, thank you) pull out a kettle from under the (sink?) and started making tea, or something tea-adjacent. Jeremy hoped it wasn’t tanglad tea, he didn’t like it very much (although Michael loved it.) But if it was tanglad tea, he wouldn’t complain, because he was a guest (if he wasn’t the next murder victim, that was his closest guess) and it would be rude to reject food if offered.

When the water boiled, he was indeed offered tea, but it didn’t smell like lemongrass, so he was happy with that. He still didn’t drink it, though. It would be far more stupid than any other decision he had taken today regarding stranger-danger protocol.

“It’s not poison, if that’s what keeping you. It’s chamomile,” Myrene said, after seeing him hesitate. 

“It could be a sleep potion or something else, though,” he replied, absentmindedly, before realizing what he just said. He tried to correct it, but he probably made it worse by saying “Sorry I, I don’t mean it in a distrust way. I mean, yes, you’re a stranger and I don’t want to die and I don’t know where I am and I followed a stranger to a second location and, oh god that makes it sound so much worse I’m so sorry,” he babbled. Curse his mouth, he should never speak again after this.

Before he could spiral more, he heard a tired chuckle, before a “So you do have self-preservation instincts! I was starting to worry about it, new players usually try to escape sooner.”

That worried Jeremy a bit. 

“Escape? Will, um, you’ll try to kill me?” He asked, very intelligently.

“No. But people seem to think I will, I’ve noticed,” she sounded amused, which should be good for his lifespan.

“What will you do?”

“Probably wait until you drink the god damn healing drink before explaining stuff to you, if it isn’t an inconvenience.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, even Jeremy, known for his lack of sarcasm abilities, could see it. He threw his so-called self-preservation instincts out of the window and promptly drunk the tea.

OH NEW CHARACYER :0

She seems so cool omg ✨

Also don’t call your dialogue awful - it’s great :(( /gen

One thing I noticed is that at the end I think it should be ‘drank the tea’ rather than ‘drunk the tea’? Not sure if it’s grammatically correct rn

But YIPPPEE I LOVE THIS

[absylphe]

✍ - a memory of their mother (slash lusus slash ancestor)

"Put it down, the sun is high. Grasses now." Most of the sounds are at a register you can only hear through long term exposure and practice, some of the louder ones just sounding like common chitters. You slam closed the copy of the latest rainbow drinker novel Vriska had sent you, sighing loudly and climbing down from the window sill.

"Already ate a running one at low sun. No grass."

The bones of the hopbeast you had for breakfast bleach under the sun in a neat, organized collection on the front lawn.

"Look play later. Grasses now."

She's so persistent, you grouch and grumble and when she regurgitates the sweet grasses you do stick your hand out, and you do eat it, and the texture is god-awful but there is so little to eat out in the desert and you are a growing troll. She watches you intently with many-faceted eyes, uncanny mandibles quivering with anticipation, and she coos a gratified sound when you finish choking it down.

"Good grub. Big and strong. Run fast, catch more running ones."

"I know, I know. Balanced diet."

She chitters at you, head tilted. You blow a raspberry and parse it back out in grubspeak.

"Big and strong, run fast."

"Run fast," she agrees, finally curling up under the stairs, out of the way for her nap.

It would be nice to have more in-depth conversations with her. The potential is there, you know she cares for you from the grubspeak, but the language is so... limited. Her focuses are so narrow. It is lonely out here, lonely and dangerous.

You wash your hands of the grass pulp slime, pick your book back up, and when you fall asleep, the clouds that float by the golden city in your dreams lull you in with promises that you will speak to her one day, unburdened by the barrier of primitive communication, and she will understand you and speak back in kind.

It will be exciting, you think. To play this game, and meet all of your friends, and talk to your lusus. It's a lovely dream.

------

"Thanks again for coming on such short notice, Miss Maryam. I know you are not on call during wriggling season, but our usual docterror was in an accident and I didn't know who else to--" "It is okay, Novitiate Paunit. Please present the grub."

You hate to be terse, but the echoing sounds of thousands of grubs squealing is incredibly overstimulating -- you have more than the one set of reasons for not working during this season, but if you can't show up for things like this, then you will be out of the loop with the caverns.

The young cavern apprentice hefts up a big fat blueblood into your face, wiggling and undulating. It's still shiny and wet -- freshly hatched, but it's thrashing far more than usual, its caste-bestowed heft making it difficult for the poor apprentice to manage on her own. It seems to be perfectly healthy, no deformities, but the way it's wiggling is either the sign of a psychological deformity or a physical one. You take the grub in your arms, hold it to your chest in such a way it has to cease its wriggling, press your forehead to its uncanny little forehead, bumping against nubby, velvety little horns.

"No run, no run, hurt," it chitters out, the sounds exhausted and strained from all of the screaming. The legs seem fine, but you hold your ear up to its belly and gently tap each of them. Fine, fine, fine -- aha, this one is hollow, a small hole into the exoskeleton of the leg. The novitiate looks on with giant, horrified eyes as you curl one claw between the grub's body and the base of its leg and simply pop the whole thing off, leaving behind an irritated nub of blue flesh.

"No run, cold hurt, small cocoon now. No hurt later." You chirp soothingly to the grub, explaining the process the best you can with the very limited dialect, preparing your antiseptic spray. "Grasses now, big sleep later, run later later later." "Your sorting area is contaminated," you inform the novitiate, carefully juggling between spraying antiseptic and holding the grub still through the sting of pain. The novitiate can't hear your chirping, only the grub can, and while it does wail with the sharp pain of the spray, it does calm down when you start to wrap the nub with gauze, as the understanding seems to sink in. "You have parasites in the bedding, change all of it and spray down all of the eggs that haven't hatched yet with apple cider vinegar and water."

She furiously scribbles in her notebook while you finish bandaging the grub, hefting it up to lay across your shoulder. The stinging pain has turned to numbing and the grub settles on your shoulder while you feed it sweetgrass.

"As for this one, just make sure he eats a lot. The flesh of his leg was eaten through, but as long as he stays healthy from here going forward, he should be able to play with the other grubs just fine, do the usual enrichment activities, and pupation will eventually set him right. He's heavy and down a leg in the back though, so be careful letting him climb on things."

"Yes ma'am," the novitiate stammers out carefully reaching out and removing the now-docile grub from your shoulder.

"You're looking for these." You reach down to pick up the shed grubleg, tapping out the hollow horn of it into your hand, where a wicked looking small worm with a few sharp mandibles squirms around in distress. "Kill them with extreme prejudice. The apple cider vinegar should kill the eggs."

"How did you know what was wrong? He looked absolutely fine to me..."

"Oh, years of practice, dear." You smile wryly and tap the side of your head, winking. "You develop an ear for this sort of thing over time."

#you will get both! i'll write one about dolorosa/porrim later #ooc #ask meme things #long post #parasite mentions //

[wrecking-sequels]

[Brand New Wheels]

The store had closed its doors since five minutes but there was still no sign of Baroness Boogerface at the station, so the wrecker waited patiently on a bench with Zangief. It was from him he would learn more about the much-talked-about arcade's new entry, which was apparently called Speedstorm.

According to the bearded 'villain' who had visited day-one, it was a new racing game, with impressive tracks and a ridiculously diverse roster of characters. While intrigued at the prospective to see new faces, the colossus was more excited for Vanellope, she used to whine often on how much the place 'needed' new motors.

When said cutie finally exited her game, she seemed lightly beat down in the spirit. It was something so subtle no one could notice except Ralph. "Kid, what's with that face?" Asked the big guy, getting up as soon as he saw her. "We only played three tournaments today, three!" The girl roared in response. "Uhh okay, you didn't get a lot of players today, big deal." He shrugged, causing her to groan in frustration.

"It's not normal.. My game always makes tons of coins. We hardly ever get a break." At that, Wreck-It simply smirked. "Ah shush, it is normal. Latest additions always take the spotlight for a bit. Speaking of which.. get a load of this, it's aaa new racing game!" Dude expected leaps of joy but ended up receiving only a horrified stare.

"It's another racing game?!" Her reaction puzzled the giant to say the least. "Isn't that positive? Thought you were dying to get to this day." She just ignored him. "I knew it.. i knew it! I could feel it in my guts!" Ralph frowned and shifted his gaze to the new arrival. Wow, even the snobbish mushrooms from Mario Bros were going in to peek.

"Name's catchy, don't you think?" Needless to say, Van did not appreciate his comment. "It's lame." Yeah, 'someone' was truly bitter, and that honestly amused Ralphie. "Oh come on now, a President needs to be more mature than this." The child just gave him a face. "Like you don't know being competitive is in my code, Ugh."

It was then a peculiar group of three came out of the new system to head towards Frogger. One of them had a weird suit of armor, its chest piece was so large Ralph couldn't help thinking he looked like a walking can of Cola. Next to him strolled a woman with raven hair and almond shaped eyes, laughing with some kind of mouse sporting white gloves.

So far that was the oddest bunch of newcomers Game Central Station had ever seen. If it wasn't for the textures on their suits, no one in their right mind would tell they were from the same game. "Whaat the heck..? People is seriously spending their money to play with them??" Yes, yes they were, lots of money.

"Well, that's mean. Not everyone can be designed an adorable candy child." Inquired her bud. "Ohh now I gotta know what their karts look like!" With that she sprinted off, fueled by her hope to discover a disappointing little world, and alleviate her anxiety. Too bad upon entering, something entirely opposite welcomed them instead.

That view was stellar. On one side you had a literal frozen kingdom, in the middle a futuristic zone, and on the other side some exotic island, volcano-equipped even. For joysticks' sake it was awesome! Her smile turned upside down at the speed of light.

Wreck-It himself was seriously impressed already but hid it for the small friend. "It's.. something." Well, at least until he spotted a track in the sky, between golden clouds. "Woah! Look at that!!" Fighting her own awe, Van faked a unimpressed shrug and teleported on his shoulder. "Just move those feet Jumbo.. Don't wanna be here all day."

It wouldn't take long to find what she was looking for. One large purplish veichel awaited them at the first area. It had wheels bigger than Ralph's feet. The child was in love now and she hated herself for that. "Son of a biscuit... this is a monster..!" Obviously those toddlers at heart begun touching the car everywhere. "Shiny!"

For a while it looked like no one was around to scold them, until an odd character with dot eyes glided over using his long ears like an helicopter, confirming further just how crazy folks here looked. "Hey hey! What do you think you're doing?!? Hands off!"

Both raised incredulous eyebrows at his sight. "Is that a flying bunny?" Asked the big man. "They are soo running out of ideas." Vanellope shook her head. "It's rabbit!" Corrected the creature just before touching the ground. "Okay Mr. Rabbit, easy. We're not Kart thieves or anything." Good first impressions..

The guy already had hands on his hips. "Name's Oswald, Oswald The Lucky Rabbit. And who might you be?" He sure knew how to make you feel welcome.. "Oh, I'm Wreck-It Ralph from Fix-It Felix Jr, and this here is Vanellope, ruler of Sugar Rush!" She raised a greeting hand quietly, not loving the way he introduced her like a proud father.

"Wait, Sugar Rush? That Karts game where everything is made of sweets?" Now the racer in blue was curious. "Affirmative." Confirmed the dolly with no hesitation, only to see Oswald wear a mischievious grin. "Ahh, keepin' tabs on the competition uh?" She instinctively glitched in emberassment for a split second. This was getting interesting.

#wreck it ralph #wir #disney #disney crossover #disney speedstorm #tumblr fanfic #disney fanfiction #writers on tumblr #chapter 2 #oswald the lucky rabbit

[sparkly-key]

Vengeance, burning bright

What if, after Aziraphale-as-Crowley dried off from the Holy Water bath, Hell had decided that failure had to be punished - And Hastur was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hastur arrives at the bookshop, looking for revenge. Set after S2E6 Written for Whumptober Day 20 - "People don't change people, time does" | Blanket | Found Family | "You will regret touching them."

Content warnings: Fire, burning

Hastur sneered up at the cherry red façade and the delicate gold lining.

A.Z. Fell and Co.

The fog curled around him, the air even more cold and dank than it would be for London normally. The toad settled on his head croaked, the sound echoing in the empty street.

With a grunt, he set the cheap black duffel in his left hand on the ground, fingers fighting his command to release the textured strap. The glass bottles inside clunked together and the demon winced at the noise.

The lamp clutched against his right side burned furiously, the heat permeating the air around them like a shroud.

That bastard Aziraphale was gone, Hastur knew – promoted or some such bullshit – but he’d been watching, in the weeks since his freedom.

Satan had to punish someone for that shitshow of an Armageddon and after Crowley had treated the Holy Water like a leisurely scrub, the Administration had to find another target.

Wrong place, wrong time, he’d told that overblown toad before he’d dunked him into the blessed liquid. Hastur was lucky he hadn’t gotten the same fate.

But that didn’t mean four years of torture and hell hadn’t fanned the flames of vengeance. (When Hell wanted you to learn a lesson, you learned in through pain, etched into your bones and carves into your flesh.)

Groaning, Hastur set the lamp on the ground and sank to his knees on the asphalt. He ignored  the way his arm felt as if it were being jabbed with a thousand tiny pins while he opened the hatch in the vessel, his fingers fumbling with the tiny latch.

There was a light on in the bookshop, imbuing the interior with a soft, warm light. The new shopkeep.

Hastur had watched for days, plotting his revenge (It was a struggle to be sure, Hastur didn’t have much of an imagination).

This angel was no Aziraphale.

But there was fondness.

The way Crowley rolled his eyes when the angel had crouched to their knees beside the pond babbling a greeting to the flock of ducks.

The way his mouth quirked minutely while the angel choked on a gulp of wine.

The way he’d sat in the park, answering the endlessly annoying stream of questions the angel posed about whatever inane thought entered their mind.

It was embarrassing, even for a demon as big of a disgrace as the traitor was.

Hastur reached into the duffel and pulled out a glass bottle out of its metal cage. His hands shook as he dipped the wick into the Hellfire and launched Molotov cocktail through the shop window. The glass shattered, the noise echoing in the empty street and Hastur grinned as he lit another.

He could see the little angel in there now, feel the Grace reverberate in the air as they tried to miracle away the Hellfire. The flames leapt higher, finding purchases on the carpet and furniture and books. The warm light the bookshop had been emanating earlier warped, becoming angry and uncontrollable.

~*~

Muriel coughed as they brought their arm up to cover their nose, trying to peer through the billowing black smoke that filled the shop. The books.

Aziraphale told them to mind the shop. They couldn’t lose all his precious books.

“Oh oh oh oh,” they cried as the fire started to climb a bookshelf. They rushed over, reaching their hand through the flames to grab the tomes.

They yelped as the fire burned them, the orange flame clinging to their sleeve. With a horrified shout, Muriel shed their jacket and tossed it to the ground.

“Hellfire,” they whispered in pained awe, studying their blistered flesh on their hand.

Oh no.

Gritting their teeth, they swept the burning tomes to the floor and snapped their fingers, transporting the bookshelf in front of them outside, safe from the flames. Their eyes squinted, the hellfire permeating the noxious smoke. They coughed again and miracle away more shelves.

There were too many to clear before the hellfire got them.

With a groan, Muriel screwed their eyes shut and summoned all the strength she could muster from Heaven. The hellfire roared as it grew suddenly, feeding off the Grace as though it was starving, but most of the books were gone, barely visible through the smoke and flames.

They coughed, the smoke burning their lungs. Drained, they turned toward the door.

Where was it?

They could barely see three feet ahead of themselves. The rafters groaned, wood splintering, as Hellfire spread across the ceiling.

They snapped their fingers, trying to gather whatever strength they could in order to transport themselves away, but their body only shuddered, too weak and drained to obey. They felt nauseous and feverish, the temperature and their exhaustion overwhelming as the room spun.

“He –“ cough “Help!” They shouted, stumbling toward a gap in the wall of flames. They tripped, putting their hands out to brace their fall.

They screamed as their palms landed in the flames, the pain flooding their body. They scrambled to their knees, recoiling from the flames as they struggled to breathe.

CRACK

Muriel gasped as the pillar fell on top of them, the deceptively narrow column belying its weight. They shoved at it, biting back the sobs as they fought with the heat, the damage and the pain.

They looked up as the ceiling collapsed, covering the scrivener in a blanket, plaster and hellfire.

#whumptober 2023 #good omens #Hastur #Muriel