#it’s so rare to see depicted properly
Text
Nobody told me Holmes in Sherlock and Co explicitly self-id’s as adhd and autistic from the first minute, or that he has DID! Do we ever find out where the traumatic split came from?
#I have someone close to me with DID#it’s so rare to see depicted properly#sherlock & co#and I have many asd and adhd family members#adhd for me but no asd#fwiw did doesn’t necessarily present with clear alters#but there are shifts between conscious states#and you may not be aware of what was happening while you were in an altered state#or have a single ‘correct’ state#so if Holmes starts losing time or having significantly younger reactions to things I’d consider that a significant sign#that they’re actually going in on him having did#which generally presents with cptsd which is more common among nd peeps
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
once again rotating the qsmp and it's depiction of parenthood in my head and yeno i just... it makes me so deeply emotional it's not even funny? i remember conversations about "mothers and fathers" being the true qsmp theme song and i will die on that hill forever.
the thing that i find so poignant about it is that this was (as far as we know) never meant to be the story they were going to tell — the eggs were meant to come and go, a chapter in a story that would be looked back on fondly but one that was firmly over. and yet, the love. oh, the love.
it's so rare in media that we get such a raw and slow perspective of parenthood from the parents' perspective, to see the bonds forming and solidifying from "a responsibility that scares me" to "i would tear the world apart for you" — going back to vods of the first day of the eggs is wild, because they're filled with novelty and interest, but then time passes and we see love blossom.
we see love through grief too, like fit's voice when ramon lost his first life, or bad's screams when dapper had his nightmare, or the grief that came with trump, juana, and tilin's deaths. the desperation and grief of parents is an uncomfortable thing to witness, but in a medium like the qsmp it allows people to explore stories that are sometimes too heavy or too dark to portray in a less "goofy" medium.
we watched people's focus shift to their children as they embraced parenthood, especially in the face of loss, and we saw them accept truths that aren't pretty: if the eggs are there to manipulate them, okay. if they're a way for the federation to control them? fine. it doesn't matter, they're their children. they won't let go of them, not even if they're ultimately a means to keep them subdued.
the only time we've seen these characters truly lose their shit and rebel properly was when the eggs went missing, and that says so much. they'll almost accept losing their autonomy, but they won't lose their children.
it's been almost a year of the eggs, and they're the center of everything. every event, every game, every day — eggs are always the focus, whether it be in a "we need to protect them" way or a "i wonder what they want to do today" way. it's all about those kids.
meanwhile, we get to see these people be scared shitless, not have answers, be lost and confused half the time and not knowing how to handle every situation — they try their best, but time and time again they fumble and say the wrong thing, and have to apologise and try to do better next time.
it's so fucking beautiful, man. we see a day-to-day experience of parenthood and family (government assigned, found, chosen) that shows and movies can't give us because they're not a daily, breathing, on-the-go medium where we get to follow this one (or multiple bc none of us have lives) character through just... life.
in having this opportunity, we're privy to one of the most honest, human, and poignant depictions of parenthood and maturing that i've ever seen. we get to live this journey with these characters, and i'd bet a lot of money that that's part of why we're all so deeply attached to the eggs too.
long story short, storytelling is so fucking awesome and sometimes the most beautiful stories happen by accident.
723 notes
·
View notes
Text
rare critters
– tales of the voracity pathstrider
✎𓂃 a healthy dose of curiosity (ft. dr ratio) yall if i have to write another report i think i might kms sorry im 3 days late lol i was busy making concept art
when dr ratio somehow acquired a few rare critters from herta space station, he thought of one person:
aventurine.
if he’s so bad at looking after himself, maybe he could take care of something else instead. and these cat cakes are pretty tame and adorable… seems just right for him.
ratio sent a text to let aventurine know he’s coming to drop off some souvenirs
said souvenirs being these critters
ratio has one on top of his head and two in one arm as he rings the bell
it’s sometime in the afternoon, and you’re not around
(you’re attending a meeting on aventurine’s behalf so he can have a longer lunch break)
(you do that pretty often, actually. that’s why your boss can have entire afternoons or evenings to himself)
nothing would’ve prepared ratio for what he sees when aventurine opens the door
one, no, two? no, three?? faceless serpents slithering around his feet
and one really huge one around his neck???
their maws, aeons, their maws. as stunned as ratio is, he’s also scared shitless
they remind him of a certain aeon and he isn’t sure if he liked the implications
though, that aeon has long since disappeared…
the very moment the serpents sniffed something in the air, they’re all right up in ratio’s face
the trash cakes are definitely scared shitless
they’re quivering and whimpering
ratio is trying so hard to hide his unease
“since when did you have pets, gambler?”
“oh, they’re my assistant’s – don’t bite, please.”
and these dangerous, dangerous noodles listened???
they backed off obediently while still scenting the air again and again
at least they’re not one hair away from ratio anymore?
wait, more importantly…
“you’re living with your assistant?” ratio can’t help but ask. “and… they brought their pets over?”
technically, the slithery creatures around the house aren’t your pets, they’re literally parts of you, but does aventurine want to get into the details? not particularly.
“doctor, it’d be heartless of me to tell them to leave their pets,” aventurine chuckled, “it’s a long story. are these…?”
“i thought pets would do you some good. seems like your assistant has the same idea.” ratio passes the three cakes over to him. “here – from the space station.”
aventurine tells the especially thick leviathan on his neck to get off so he could hold the trash cakes
more like patting its body a few times until it got the signal and slid off of him
the cakes like him!
once he’s passed the sniff test, the cakes are all over him
they do remind him of someone, with those yellow eyes and grey… trash can(?) like body…
he holds them carefully, because unlike your creatures, he needs to hold onto these little guys
else they’d fall
invites ratio in while he’s at it, and he sits down to properly examine them
ratio watches aventurine for a moment, until your serpents catch his attention
oh, he’s so unnerved by them, but also…
he’s so curious! his scholarly senses are telling him to seize the opportunity!
are they really the same creatures as the ones depicted in the scriptures for oroboros?
how did aventurine get his hands on them? or rather, how did you get your hands on them?
and why are they so, so… docile, if they are really what he thinks they are?
what have you done!? how did you get them to be your pets?
his academic interest in you might have just skyrocketed
he engages in a staring contest with a creature with no eyes
somehow, somehow he just knows it’s a staring contest
he’s debating between approaching or not
they look like they would snap his neck before he could even react
“don’t try it, doctor,” aventurine warns, reading ratio’s actions from a mile away, “they’ll probably bite.”
“huh…” ratio makes a sound of pure wonder as he stands still, staring at the few noodles slithering over each other and scenting the air around him. “how did you tame them, then?”
“i didn’t.” aventurine shrugs as he plays with the new critters in his arms. “just sit tight, my assistant should be back soon.”
does that mean you’re the one deciding who gets to touch your serpents and who doesn't???
meanwhile aventurine has taken to the cakes from the space station
they’re so delicate and adorable, with their huge eyes and how stretchy they are
such a contrast to your huge serpents
your serpents are curious about them too, it seems
they keep trying to slither up aventurine’s legs
he has to keep pushing them down, all the while their maws opened and closed
trying to get a feel for the taste of these critters
not trying to outright eat them, just trying to get a taste
ratio is itching to just… grab one of your noodles
he can’t
how devastating
just then, the door opens with a click
“i’m home, aven.” you enter and practically throws your shoes off.
the sudden need to retain some semblance of formality in your home feels foreign to you now, but you’ve sensed someone else’s presence. it can’t be helped, even if the name aven feels odd on your tongue.
weird, aventurine usually runs out the moment he hears you
when you made your way to the living room, you see him and… some random guy?
said random guy looks like he’s into greek mythology?
is he like zeus or something
no, more like male athena or something
“oh, welcome back!” aventurine perks up as he lifts one of the cakes and shows it to you like a proud parent. “look at these little guys!”
your eyes never quite look away from the stranger, but you also dazedly take the critter into your arms. “this is…”
you immediately catch ratio’s eye – the way you carry yourself, the way the ends of your scarf seem to move on their own, and the way the few serpents find their way up your neck without so much as trying to touch the cake in your hands (even though they’ve been trying to taste it when it was in aventurine’s arms).
“veritas ratio.” he stands up before aventurine could introduce him and offers you a handshake. “you might know me as dr ratio of the intelligentsia guild.”
you stare at him without much of a reaction
his hand stays outstretched as he watches you expectantly
after a few seconds, you give his hand a firm shake and introduce yourself
you do know him, actually, you’ve read a few of his works
you quite liked his takes on philosophy and natural theology
he’s very insightful for a mortal
“can i help you?” you ask, because you don’t think ratio would bother talking to you if he hadn't been curious about something.
“your pets are most fascinating,” he gets straight to the point, “may i examine them?”
???
your pets?
the serpents?
you look to aventurine, who just turns away like he didn’t tell ratio those are your pets
you pinch the bridge of your nose and exhales exasperatedly
then again, perhaps calling them your pets is the best course of action right now
because the other option is spilling the beans about yourself
yeah
so… nice save, aventurine
you set down the critter in your arms on a nearby table and turn to face the doctor
“here.” you pick up one of your leviathans and guide it over to ratio. “they might do… things around you, but they won’t hurt you.”
ratio tries not to flinch when the heavy leviathan slither up his arm and coil around his neck loosely, but he winces and backs away slightly anyway. “how are you so certain?” he watches the creature with so much wonder as it scents him, then lifts its head so he can stare at it properly. or the other way around; so it can stare at him properly. who knows.
a healthy dose of cynicism is always good
it’s not like you don’t understand where he’s coming from
you shrug, because you really have no better answer without outing yourself
“i have them trained.” you say, but at this point you’re just pulling shit out of your ass
aventurine immediately covers his mouth to hide a snort
you shoot him a quick glare
you run a hand along its smooth body to show ratio that yes, he can touch them
its maw opens a little wider and drools a little onto the carpet
ratio carefully puts his hand on top of its head
it turns its head on contact and nudges against his hand
trying to scent the thing touching it (aka ratio’s hand)
but it doesn’t do anything other than what appears to be purely harmless scenting
could this possibly be the subject of his next paper?
“don’t think about it, doctor.” you cut him off the moment you see the telltale glint of academic interest in his eyes.
“i must disagree; they are of leviathan descent, are they not?” ratio asks, now caressing the big noodle with both hands and handling it with less hesitation than before, “this is of utmost significance; they might shed some light on the mystery of oroboros the voracity.”
you narrow your eyes at ratio
he doesn’t even try to prod around the subject, he just hits you in the face with it
as expected of such an erudite scholar, but still
(aventurine is watching the interaction with much interest while he plays with the cats)
(it’s like he’s enjoying the show)
(the remaining free serpents of yours has coiled up by his feet and fallen asleep)
(since they’ve realized aventurine doesn’t want them near the cakes)
you don’t want to bring too much attention to yourself, or your serpents
you don’t want things about oroboros to spread, either
in fact, you’re quite thankful to the enigmata and the ipc for heavily censoring them
“with all due respect, i refuse.” you do not allow any room for disagreement. “you are prepared to uncover the truth. is the rest of the cosmos ready?”
that’s not all of your argument, but the one you determine would be enough to keep ratio from conducting and publishing research about leviathans for now. oh, right – you’re not against ratio’s curiosity. you simply don’t want that curiosity to spread far and wide.
ratio frowns, not expecting such a swift rejection from you, but you do have a point. he’s a little blinded by his excitement.
your rejection sounds a little personal, if aventurine may say so himself
to ratio, it is very much just you being overprotective of your pets
as all pet owners do
to be fair, it’s hard to say. ratio is a sharp man
you stare at him, and he stares at you
the leviathan hanging on his neck tilts its head in confusion
if ratio is anything, he’s persistent
especially when it comes to knowledge
he opens his mouth to try to convince you again
you beat him to it and raise a hand to stop him from talking. “you can examine them for as long as you do not make publications.”
ratio is taken aback, his brows furrowing as you give him permission for further interaction with these descendants of ancient leviathans. this is your first meeting, so why –
in fact, aventurine is wondering the same thing
like, why are you getting along with the doctor so well when you’ve only met today
he’s not jealous or anything, he just has a huge question mark on your reactions
you’re usually very, very guarded against people who ask questions
especially about your scarf
but then ratio did see your serpents slithering around
perhaps you see no way of weaselling your way out of this?
anyway
if we’re being honest, ratio also has a huge question mark on your reactions
“i am a fan of your philosophical works,” you say, guiding your serpent back around you, “hence i am willing to satisfy your curiosity… provided you agree to my terms. think of it as an invitation.”
ratio takes a moment to mull over your words. to think that someone under the ipc has read multiple of his works, and has enjoyed them… is that why you are willing to compromise? but, well… you give him a feeling of a learned person. perhaps he will enjoy debating you.
“very well, that is good enough.” he nods, even if he still feels just a little bit disappointed, he’s anticipating a good back-and-forth with you already. “in that case…”
“i will let you know when i am free.” you sit down next to aventurine and let the critters on his lap crawl over to you and knead your thigh with their little paws. “and, doctor?”
it’s apparent to you that ratio has the same thought as you did when you decided to let your serpents drop their disguises at home. you glance towards aventurine next to you, then back at the doctor.
“thanks for the critters.”
#honkai star rail#aventurine#dr ratio#aventurine x reader#dr ratio x reader#ares's voracity pathstrider tales#honkai star rail x reader
387 notes
·
View notes
Text
one thing I absolutely LOVE about the way mari is portrayed in OMORI (and rarely see actually shown properly in fanon- people take notes) is actually her fashion sense and how the differences in what she’s wearing actually have a lot of symbolism for mari’s character itself that can kind of be seen in the other characters but is mostly a Mari thing.
In fanart and canon in general Mari is usually depicted wearing formal clothes, which is understandable because. Well. That’s what she wears most of the game.
except no?
mari’s actually Seen WAY more commonly wearing clothing that’s considered more “casual” than anything. Like yes she’ll wear button ups and skirts and Mary-janes and stuff, but…
…Mari only ever really wears those kinds of clothes when she’s trying to alter people’s perception of her. When she’s attempting to be perfect. It’s for show. It’s her recital clothing, her school clothing, even her Halloween costume. Mari’s formal wear as a character is mostly based around how she wants other people to perceive her and not because she actually enjoys wearing those clothes. Which is a big part of mari’s character, her perfectionism and also performative perfectionism that she displays and attempts to use to push her actual personality down in favour of a more idealised version of herself to present to other people.
but when she’s with her friends? It’s a completely different story. One look at basil’s photo album and we barely see her in this “formal wear” that we perceive as so common at all. In fact, mari’s wardrobe seems to mostly consist of t-shirts, jeans, plain dresses and those little cardigan things she likes to wear. Whenever she’s comfortable, whenever she feels free enough to express herself as a person around people, she ends up actually wearing clothing that she enjoys and finds comfortable.
And what’s even WORSE is that despite this, despite mari’s choice of clothing depending on her comfort and her more loose casual wear being more common…
…she’s still depicted in the formal wear in headspace.
because sunny is trying to see her as that idealised version of herself she pushes to people, and not the flawed, personality filled person that is mari. Because mari could never do anything wrong.
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
Charm for Good Luck
WARNING!!!!!! this has depictions of depression, suicide and drowning!!!!! Reader discretion is advised!!!!
Staring up at the ceiling, in his bed, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the grey and scared skin underneath. The feelings of crushing defeat piercing his cold dead heart, he couldn’t understand where it was coming from. He couldn’t remember how he got here in his room down in hell, last he remembered was preparing a shopping list in his host’s mother’s home.
Trying to prop himself up on his elbows, he found it hard to do so, like the weight in his chest was quite literally pushing him down. Looking down to eye his chest, he noticed he wasn’t the only one in his bed, turns out his darling host was there, hair spread out covering their delightful face. By the looks of it they were asleep on him, making a warm smile appear on his face. Though the question of what they were doing there in the first place crossed his mind. Had he accidentally dragged them down to hell with him when he came? It was a rare coherence when that happened, however over the years of their contract, Alasator had been gaining more control in preventing that happening to stronger their bond became.
He reached a hand over their hand, combing through their hair and detangling it at the knots, for some reason his hand feeling heavier and heavier by the second. He simply brushed it off, thinking it was simple strain from how exhausting their days have been these last few weeks. “Dearest,” he started softly, “we need to wake up, we have quite a lot to do,” he continued, the swelling in his heart continued to weigh him down.
His host was normally quite quick to wake up, so after the first couple of shakes on their head brought no reaction did it finally register that something might be dreadfully wrong. “Darling?” Alastor questioned, moving his hand down to their shoulder, gently removing them from his person to lay more on the bed. Still not able to see them properly, he tried a second time to prop himself up, “Dar-“ now he got a clear view of the state of his host.
Eyes wide open and greyed, face pale and bloated. Alastor cried out their name, all feelings of heaviness gone from the shock and how alert he became in the moment, jolting up to sit up properly to start shaking them, trying to get a reaction from them. He shouted their name again, louder and more desperate now, smile far from being absent from his face, with his voice shifting between radio glitches to actually using his normal voice without radio effects.
He shouted their name a few more times, each time getting louder and louder, each time failing, even going as far as to gently while still apply force to slap their head, desperate for a reaction that he isn’t getting, head instead limping and moving to the force that was applied to it.
Finally having enough he gets off the bed and summoned his microphone, this wasn’t his host, only a mere reflection of what was happening in the human realm. He needed to take over! NOW!
He slammed his microphone down on the ground, fully expecting to now take over their body… but it didn’t work… if anything everything got fuzzier and harder to focus. It was as if they were actively blocking him out, something they haven’t done in oh so long. He slammed his microphone down, more forcefully this time, panic of not knowing what is happening to them creeping in. But still nothing happened.
He yelled out in frustration, screaming their name out loud like Bloody Mary, and in his fit of rage he used his powerful magic to telepathically make the bed slam into the door of his room. The body of his host dissipating from the sudden movement, door and bed breaking and leaning on the opposing wall outside his room. Feeling even more enraged, he started to repeatedly slam his microphone on the ground. He was nearly there, he could feel it with how exasperated he was, it just felt like a kicking down a metal door with extra reinforcements.
And at long last… he finally broke down that door…
Waking up to a gasp and jolting up from the bathtub. Alastor now in his host’s body let out very harsh sounding coughs. Water sprayed everywhere with his jolt, on the walls and on the floor, nearly reaching the toilet on the otherside of the bathroom. While even taking over his human dearest, eyes were like radio dials, showing just how much of a hole he had now, voodoo symbols filtering through the air announcing his arrival.
His coughing turned into hacking, lungs full of water that would not come out. He turned and leaned over weakly trying to summon the strength to get out of the bathtub, but it only led to him vomiting all the water that was inside their body out and onto the floor. Feeling more water climbing up at the back of his throat he gave up on leaving the tub very quickly, turning to the vapor ridden wall beside him, shakily drawing symbols that he had practiced a million times when he was alive, and a million more times in his death. Slamming his hand on them to activate their spell, filling the room with a sharp red glow that near instantly. Once the red faded his breathing started to calm down, a healing spell, something that removed the water from inside their body.
“What,” he started, still grasping for air, “happened?” he was in total control, so obviously he was met with silence. Whenever he was in complete control it is as if the host of the body is in a slumber, which was the case since before he woke the body up.
He looked around the room and saw what a mess was left by the water. Flinging his arm to wave shadows out, commanding them to clean the bathroom from the watery mess, which they obeyed and everything was as it should, floors dried, clothes neatly folded on the closed toilet, all that remained was to ensure the Madam was not home. Thankfully the shadow he sent out to scout the house for her presence came back to report she was not home. Good, the last thing the poor woman needed was to walk in on her child nearly dying.
“What’s going on?” a meek voice sounded in the back of his head. Making him lean back in the bathtub to try and calm himself as much as possible, which he found hard to do in the now cold deathtrap they both were in.
As softly as possible he called out their name, “You tell me.” Trying to hold himself back from absolutely exploding on them, he could already feel them trembling in fear, just as much as he knew they could feel his frustration from the stress building up.
There was a pause in the air, till the meek and extremely weak sounding voice of his host, “I fell asleep…”
“You-“ he interrupted himself, trying to make sure to handle the situation as delicately as possible, taking a steady breathe in and out, “nearly drowned…” he ended quietly and softly. Feeling the waves of failure crashing down on him. Something that normally would give him great pleasure and joy in this world, but he has grown far too fond of his host to enjoy it from them.
“Makes sense,” they replied back, “wish I could drown,” this made Alastor freeze up, “but it already feels like I am,” he could hear them choking up a sob in their mind, despite the forced and strained smile he wore, he could feel tears starting to form. “It’s been nearly a year! It’s not fair!” this is broke the dam and tears let loose.
“I know my dear, I know your struggles,” Alastor cooed, bringing the shared body’s hands up to their face, trying to wipe away the tears while being sure to cup their cheeks in whatever comfort he could try to provide.
“I’m twenty-fucking-whatever! With a bloody degree! But no, I’m unqualified for a proper job, too over qualified for a shitty part-time! Just what the royal fuck am I supposed to do!” he could hear them screaming out in despair, it’s not the first time this has happened but their breakdowns were never this bad. Honestly he had to admire their perseverance on this matter, some people of his time would’ve just given up and dropped dead. “And to top it all off, I can’t even afford my own place! Have to bunk down with my parents! Again!”
Tears still streaming down their face, falling and making their way into the cold water while Alastor continued to gently hold their face, now using their thumbs to caress their cheeks, trying even more to provide some comfort. “When is the next one?” he whispered, there have been so many of them he hardly has been able to keep track of them.
“Tomorrow at 1pm,” the defeat started to echo in his head, “Al?” he hummed in acknowledgment, “What am I going to do?” A good question indeed, this contract of there’s was him helping them in whatever way he can to succeed in exchange for their soul and servitude in hell. And he has not been able to uphold his end of the bargain quite well. First few interviews with him taking over turned out to be a fluke, turns out you can’t simply charm your way into being hired like you could in the 20’s. Then he simply took the backseat and let his host show him the ins and outs of modern-day interviews, and they certainly got close with a few call backs, but still nothing.
“I genuinely do not know sweetheart,” an endearing term he is starting to enjoy using in these times, his little way of showing that no matter what he will always be there. But his statement only gave way to more silence for a few more moments. He was about to get up, seeing their body start to get goosebumps from how cold the water was getting, but stopped when his host spoke up again, “What is hell like?”
He let out a sigh, they didn’t have many conversations like these, as much as it was going to be the reality of them being with him in hell, long were the days he used this topic to jest and upset them. “I am truly sorry to disappoint, but it somewhat similar to this. If you are referring to it in terms of struggles. Drug fuelled streets, people selling their souls and themselves to make a buck, if you’re not lucky in making connections your suffering does continue.”
There was a prolonging silence, Alastor would’ve tried another attempt at getting out of the water if it weren’t for the crushing defeat that had him hunching forward, nose coming in contact with the water, a harsh and choked up sob breaking out from his throat, “I have to go through this again!” this time the voice of his host that resounded in their head was loud and absolutely soul crushing. If he had his own heart, Alastor was sure it would have broken tenfold at this sound of this distress.
“No, never!” he cried out, starting to slowly lose control as they started to gain more power over themselves again, but while he was up and about, he would do whatever he can to provide comfort, lest he wants them to harm themselves again, “We made a deal!” he removed their hands from their face, wrapping them around their shoulders as if to embrace them in a hug, “You will succeed in this life, and if I have anything to say about it, you will succeed in the next in Hell!” he was still feeling the waves of powerful emotions coursing through them as he tried to hold back a sob. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this in his time alive, but then again, he hardly felt pity or sorrow for anyone except for his own mother, not even for himself.
“You mean it?” his host asked, going back to the slight meek voice that they had moments ago.
“HA!” he exclaimed, “Like I would let my first human contract become like one of those drug and sex fuelled pigs that never amounted to anything in their lives! And will continue to amount to anything in Hell! Only destined to be exterminated and perished!” he continued starting to feel a wave of slight confidence building up, trying to build it up as much as he could through his way of reassurance. Which seemed to work because he felt laughter resound through their shared body, “You are starting to share my sense of humour my dearest,” he jested while he could mentally feel them childishly sticking their tongue out at him.
Finally he was able to get out of the cold bath water, with heavy shiver that nearly rendered him unable to continue moving, he snapped his fingers which made the towel on the rack float through the air and wrap around their body, hearing a faint mmm cold being let out by his host. Merely continuing with what he was planning, pausing for only a second to make sure to send waves of warmth to his host and stroke their cheek playfully, making his way to the bathroom door to leave. Only stopping as the state they were in caught his eye in the mirror.
Wet hair stuck to their face, skin paler than the norm, eyes sunken and dark circles forming, hardly looking presentable at all. “We may or may not have let go of ourselves,” the sight broke him, smile wavering, he supposes they both have been too out of it to notice, “It’s ok though, mum’s got a lot of makeup, I’m sure we can use some to look good for… tomorrow.”
What he was mostly paying attention to were the eyes, they had a very slight red tint to them that were only noticeable if you really paid attention to it. That was mostly the only way that anyone could tell that Alastor was in control of his host, aside from the smile ofcourse. “An issue for tomorrow morning dearest,” he merely said walking out the door and down the corridor to their bedroom.
“Can I be your receptionist?” his host’s voice peeked up.
“Excuse me dearest?”
“Yeah in Hell, can I be your receptionist?”
“Of all the things you could strive for. Fame and power, you would aim for something below your talent’s?” he asked in amusement.
“Maybe I would go for that later, but I think I would rather work and be close to you.” This made him stop in his tracks, suddenly feeling flustered and muttering something along the lines of full of surprises, before marching through the bedroom door and beelining for the cabinet with indoor clothes, drying off and getting dressed. The rest of the day will be focused on solely comfort and relaxation for his host. Hotel and Overlord duties be damned, his human needed him.
He was about to leave the bedroom now that he was dressed to the nines in fluffy cat pyjamas, though the clothes hanging on the wardrobe caught his attention. Making him now walk up to inspect it, “Is this what you are wearing tomorrow?”
“Yes…is it bad?” confidence was on the verge of breaking once more as doubt started to creep into their shared head.
“Not at all, you would be dressed for success,” Alastor smiled warmly, “It only is missing one small detail.” Snapping his fingers to make a necklace with a small amulet attached appear in his hand, hooking it onto the neck of the hanger. Now flicking his wrist to make a red scarf appear, wrapping on the hanger well enough to cover the amulet, “And now dressed for the kill!” he exclaimed proudly.
“What is that?”
“Just a little charm for good luck, not that you’ll need it, I am sure you will win them over,” Alastor bounced on the body’s heels placing the clothes to hang back on the wardrobe, putting a pep in his step leaving the bedroom.
“Oh yes because the other how many other interviews went so well,” his darling said sarcastically. He could quite literally feel them rolling their eyes in their conscious.
“Give it time my dear,” he spread his arms out and gave himself a little twirl, enlightened that they are feeling better, “Afterall you did win me over!”
#x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#alastor#demon#hazbin hotel x reader#host au#alastor x human reader#human#charlie#vaggie#angel dust#angel#husker#nifty#my depression grabbed me in a neckhold this entire fic#send help
389 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay now that Anissa is in the show, I have to talk about THAT storyline. There's not much particularly new I can say that hasn't already been discussed but I need to gather my thoughts on what the show has to do to be successful in this regard. With that being said,
Spoilers for things the show has not covered yet
And massive Trigger Warning for discussions of sexual assault and post-assault trauma.
So first things out of the way, I do not believe they should cut it. The changes the show has made are ultimately pretty minor. A character change, order of events swapped. With them sticking as close as they are to the comic, I think it would be a massive problem to skip over it from a story telling standpoint.
From a real world standpoint, it's even more important. Male sexual assault is something that rarely gets depicted properly. It's usually a joke or a moment of triumph and that very much has had an effect on the way we look at it in the real world. And since Invincible is now a show pretty much everybody has their eyes on, choosing not to talk about it would be missing an opportunity to have a very real, very important conversation that very well could educate men on how to navigate and survive what they are going through.
I'm also worried that they'll be too afraid to actually say the word "rape". Lots of modern adaptations delete important discussions like Sokka's sexism or the gender discussions from Cowboy Bebop in order to avoid properly handling them and usually replace them with something worse in a sort of "all bark and no bite" liberalism. Directly saying it as it is is incredibly important to showing that talking about it is not only NOT shameful, but also necessary in getting the help you need and the healing that is necessary to survive.
And from a storytelling standpoint, saying it is important too. The moment where Mark tells Eve what happened is not only great in showing that telling someone is important but is also the moment where Mark is forced to admit the truth to himself. "She raped me." Those three words are a massive turning point for the whole story. Character dynamics change, this becomes a focus for most of Mark's loved ones, and it fundamentally changes his life.
Markus. This is a piece of the puzzle I don't see many talk about. While the rest is a showcase of what to do, Markus as a character is a showcase of what not to. It is so, so rare that a child conceived of a rape is properly depicted, nevermind discussed. From Mark's POV, he holds no ill will towards his son. He simply wants him to live a life on Earth with his family like he did and just can't be with him because he is needed in space. But to Markus, his dad hates him. He thinks his father keeps him on Earth so that he doesn't have to think about him. And this idea of his father's disgust contorts his image of himself. He begins to feel self-hatred, hatred towards his mother for making him this way, and hatred towards his father for abandoning him and leaving him to despise what he sees in the mirror. "You made Terra with love. I was made with hate."
Whether Mark meant it or not, his neglect of Markus ruined his early life. No matter how many friends he made, what groups he joined, they could never fill that hole. He idolized his father. I mean, how could he not? His father was, IS a great hero. A man who was out at that very moment leading the movement for universal peace. But because Mark barely visited him, he only had an idea of what his father was like. A man who sacrificed so much to help the world, who fought in space and yet still managed to save the Earth dozens of times. A man who had the time to help everyone and yet couldn't make time for him.
(Important edit: in no way do I mean to say Mark is obligated to be a part of his son's life, I meant that Mark chooses to be there but ultimately fails to do so and that causes issues)
And don't get me wrong, this story has some pretty glaring flaws. For example I think they tried a little too hard to teach Mark that the person who hurt him is human too and has positively affected the lives of many. Like absolutely there is a conversation to be had there but because they had to move on with the plot they kinda just went "HEY MARK DON'T BE SAD SHE'S COOL NOW AND ALSO SHE'S DEAD SO THERE'S NO POINT IN LINGERING OKAY BYYEEEEE". But I think instead of these flaws scaring the show away they should invite the show forward. It's an opportunity to improve on the story and discussions rather than shy away from it.
Oh and also harking back to my previous point in paragraph 2, there's another aspect that makes it stand out in an important discussion. If I'm remembering correctly, the comic makes it pretty clear that Mark could have overpowered Anissa but didn't for a couple of reasons, namely not wanting to hurt her. And that is SO important and SO rare. A discussion surrounding an assault victim who could have fought back but didn't where the victim is NOT portrayed as in the wrong and in fact just as worthy to be traumatized as any other victim is SO DAMN IMPORTANT and could legit change a lot in the way we look at these topics.
So yeah, I think the series should adapt it. Also I think it would be great if they brought on actual victims and experts and whatnot so their depiction could be just that much more focused around what needs to be said. Sorry if all this read as klunky, I have a lot of thoughts bouncing around up here that I kinda just spewed onto the page with no particular order. I'm also obviously not the most educated on the topic. My personal experiences with this were relatively minor and not something I've ever felt comfortable addressing. And yeah I know it's important no matter how "small" or "minor" it seems and I'm not trying to downplay any of that but I just don't really have the words to phrase that differently. Which is exactly why I think we NEED education and discussions about this stuff so that we DO know the words to navigate the topic.
#tw sex assault#tw sa#tw trauma#invincible series#invincible spoilers#invincible comic#invincible#mark grayson#anissa invincible#tw r4p3#tw rap3#why are the tags censored like that that only makes it harder to discuss and to figure out what tags people have blocked#if we have like 87 different versions of the tag then the people who need the warning can't block all of them and thus can't avoid the post#what are we doing tumblr
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Conan the Barbarian and how it correlates to Mike's inner struggles
I know the topic of Mike's bedroom has been talked to death, whether it's the one-way sign or the buff dragon with nipples poster. However, rarely do I ever see talks on the Conan the Barbarian poster or even on the film itself, which is properly due to the film being somewhat notorious for its terrible treatment of women.
Whenever I do see it, people usually stick it up to being a part of his gay sexual awaking, which was sprinkled throughout his introduction in this season. And while I agree that's a part of it, I believe that they choose this film specifically rather than its sequel (which was only two years old in 86') for its depictions of minorities and masculinity to perfectly sum up his struggles with not only conformity but also toxic masculinity of the 1980s.
A HEADS-UP WITH TALKS OF SEXISM, RAPE, HOMOPHOBIA PLUS BREIF NUDITY.
Let's start with how it portrays sensitivity among men. Right off the bat, we see the film favours traditional masculine values with a conversation between Conan and his father shortly before the massacre of his tribe by the doom cult, with him telling Conan not to trust anyone and allow himself to be vulnerable, only trusting the steel of his sword which, in the film's own words, was founded by men.
Rather than this being a critique on how men are often been forced out of emotional availability by generations before them, it's taken as words of wisdom that Conan takes to heart as we see him from a scrawny kid that lost everything to a muscular killing machine, stripped from sensitivity and is seen by other characters as the prime specimen of man.
Male sensitivity is often depicted as a weakness and is unsurprisingly lumped with homosexuality as something to be ridiculed. We see this as Conan tries to sneak into the temple of the cult by pretending to be a shy and nervous bystander while wearing flowers (to which he says "for a girl" when being asked the purpose of them the scene prior), this attracts the attention of a priest who makes suggestive comments about his body all while caressing his chest. He asks to continue their discussion in private, an obvious implication of a hookup, and ends up getting killed by Conan.
Not only it's presented as something antagonistic with the act of desiring another man seen as something perverse, but also, the implications of GNC men shouldn't be taken seriously and only seen as a target for sexual assault.
Traditional masculinity carries into how women are represented. With it not only their screen time is few and far between but also only serve as sexual reward to male characters or to show off their power, women who don't fall into this category are usually ridiculed by our main protagonist, often being called sluts or hoes. They are disregarded shortly after their introduction by being killed and/or raped (including a woman being raped by Conan during his montage to power).
The only recurring female character is Valeria (we only find that's her name in the film's credits, so take that what you will) who gives the illusion of a strong character with being able to fight aside the male characters and her snarky attribute during her introduction, but ultimately ends up being a tool for Conan by falling into the wife role with her never being able to have true goals of her own. She disappears from narrative, only to show up towards the end for a tiny bit to meet her demise.
The poster reflects her role in the narrative with its composition, with her kneeling down so the viewers' eyes lead up to the main piece Conan, just an add-on to show his power.
Now that's not to say it doesn't cater to female viewers (and unknowingly to queer men) by taking full advantage of the female gaze with multiple lingering close-up shots of Conan, some framed in suggestive angles and even scenes only exiting just to show off Arnold Schwarzenegger's muscular frame (take the random sex scene with the witch for example). And while there is female nudity, like women in this film, it's treated with a lot less care with being in wide shots and going just as quickly as it appears.
Which finally brings us to this film's queer coding. It's common for macho action films to fall into homoerotic undertones due to their misogynistic tendencies, this film being no different with it being parodied in other media, even during its initial release, particularly in underground comics.
An example I like to bring up is Conan's "first time" in a fight. He's confused and nervous as he's thrust into battle bare apart from a loin cloth and is attacked by his opponent, but as the fight progresses, he gets more confident and begins to relish in it.
Overall, the film does serve escapism for it's male audience with its power fantasy elements, but rather of it being done through our main protagonist, it's done through the world where the narrative inhabits with it taking pride that worth is achieved through physical strength, wealth and sexual conquest. And while the narrative is the classic trope of the underdog going against a figure of high power, even they can't help finding his lifestyle appealing.
Now....
What does this tell us about Mike?
Well, we know that his family often emotionally neglect him and encourage him to give up vulnerability (i.e., making him give up his childhood toys that have emotional value and viewing his outbursts as just "delinquent behaviour").
His poor treatment towards El starting when they are together at the start of season 3. Starting off somewhat small with implicitly being disinterested in her when they are actually alone, take their conversation during his bike ride to the mall during his introduction or him jumping on the first chance he got on reducing their time together when Hopper stepped in (despite going against his wishes when it came to looking for Will in season 1).
However, when she starts to gain some independence through Max and stops being "his pet", rather than admit his mistakes and apologise like how Lucas does with Max or how he does to Will shortly after upsetting him, he starts using sexist language and starts to get controlling when said independence is applied to her use of powers.
His implicit homophobia during his projection, when Will (Who is canonically considered GNC during this time) implies his changed in behaviour as something negative.
And this might be a stretch, but maybe him tying his self-worth to whether or not he is able to provide and protect is also due to the societal pressures of gender roles and him feeling inferior to El could possibly be a hint of jealousy due to her being able to fulfil said roles despite her gender.
And we all know he has a certain type when it comes to men.
#stranger things#mike wheeler#gay mike wheeler#byler#it's impiled so it counts#less of an analysis and more of a ramble after rewatching one of my gay awakening films after like five years#conan the barbarian#st#character analysis#Had to rewrite this three times due to tumblrs dogshit layout#This post is a bit all over the place so let me know if anythings confusing
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
egbert posting (gonna use both names and he/she, sorry)
i think a great deal of the time people really simplify johns character to a sorta happy go lucky guy and that honestly really really bothers me like. june does put on a very cheery act but its not typically depicted accurately in fanon?
june canonically, at least in the first few acts, has a very sardonic dynamic with her friends. shes MEAN!!! let her be mean. john ribs pretty much all of the people he talks to, and i rarely ever see that shown in fanon? you have to remember that while he is a generally pretty carefree person as you would expect from the heir of breath hes also a teenager and kind of a dick (really much better than the sweet christian-type i see him portrayed as)
additionally june's carefreeness ... doesnt come from a place of joy. part of the breath aspect is this detachment, and june's the HEIR of breath, so she really really exemplifies every portion of twh aspect. june is so far away from her surroundings and friends, maybe not in the literal sense but when it comes to emotionally? it's pretty evident that a lot of things that happen to him are not properly processed, just stored for later, and its really likely those things never will be processed, at least without intervention. intervention which is near impossible to attain when you're holding yourself and everyone around you at arms length. she doesnt have any irl friends, despite being pretty much the only human kid who is presently able to make any. after the retcon, he entirely loses everyone he knows, only to receive shallow replacements instead. the jade he grew up with those last three years are gone, and the only people he knows who went through the retcon are roxy, a girl he barely knows, davesprite, who vanishes nearly instantly, and nannasprite, who despite being her grandmother is practically just a riddle telling game construct.
it just... frustrates me that everyone tends to see john as relatively problemless, because she has a Lot of issues, like any other HS character. theyre just harder to see, an act of intention on his part.
#john egbert#june egbert#this is sloppily worded but GOD i just. june makes me run around in circles
108 notes
·
View notes
Note
the canyon are really on one the last few days in the tags. calling ed an abuser, whining about izzy dying being unfair and cruel. i've been going on a blocking spree. it's obviously in desperate response to the surge of reason from this blog and other meta takes that properly represent canyon izzy in their analysis of s2.
personally i am super grateful to this blog and everyone's anon takes and other posters' metas. i've been a victim of relationship abuse and have struggled with reacting to triggers for years since that experience, because my trauma responses often hurt others, in ways that i fear are me being abusive. it's done major damage to my sense of self-worth because i have blamed myself for hurting others and felt ashamed of my difficulty controlling myself when triggered and when traumatized. this is even after years of therapists reassuring me that i'm not an abuser (doesn't absolve me of responsibility for my behaviors, and i can recognize the difference in myself versus my abusers when i acknowledge the thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours i have spent on therapy over the years to work on myself and my relationships).
i really identify with ed as a character with similar struggles, and with the fear that i'm unable to change, the fear that i am just as bad and dangerous as my abusers and thus possibly deserving of the abuse in some way. OFMD depicts this aspect of surviving family and relationship abuse that is otherwise rarely (never?) shown in mainstream media, and it does it so thoughtfully and beautifully and in a way that feels HEALING and like it gives me hope. i wish the canyon folks could have the empathy they so clearly have for izzy, a pretty nasty and harmful dude, for ed as well, so that they could feel some of the healing and hope from this show that they clearly are in search of. or that they could recognize the healing and hope present in izzy's arc in s2 instead of centering his character over ed's. i do think their inability to do so stems from (unconscious) white supremacist bias that they aren't willing to acknowledge. props to the writers for killing off the white guy to advance the indigenous person's character growth for once, as it's clearly necessary as a wake-up call and challenge to audiences who are used to white supremacist ways of seeing and aren't happy that they're not being coddled with that shit. i just hope they don't get cold feet about it in s3 after all the canyon backlash online and take that as representative of the core audience. it isn't.
#143.
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
@unknownchoatic it's Dust's turn now, and he is, surprise surprise, schizophrenic !
This disabled AU is consuming my brain, I'll do Killer next
Dust has many symptoms, one of which being that he doesn't show his emotions very much, he tends to stay neutral on the outside, always hidden behind his hood, often isolates himself to the point the gang often has to drag him out of his bedroom or else he would stay inside all day long. Nobody, except Nightmare, really knows what he feels and it sometimes worries them because they never know when he feels sad or hurt and they can't comfort him properly.
Due to not showing much emotions he also struggles to engage with others and to build relationships, he basically only has the gang and doesn't have friends in other AUs like some of them do.
He may be depicted as just being lazy, since he is a Sans, but it isn't entirely true, he just doesn't have as much interest in things as he used to and stays in retreat more.
He also sometimes seems to be lost in his thoughts, he doesn't always react when someone talks to him. He has troubles concentrating for too long, memorizing the instructions (or anything else) or understanding them. He is rarely sent alone on missions because of that, even if it is just a supply run, there is always someone with him. Nightmare gives him written instructions with lots of details, even if some seem to be obvious, he writes them anyway to make sure Dust understands and doesn't forget anything.
Now for the "serious" part, he has hallucinations. These hallucinations can have many forms, they can be visual, olfactory, auditory, tactile or gustatory but in his case most of them are visual or auditory. The most common one is the ghost of his brother Papyrus, he is the one he sees most often, but it can also be other monsters he killed. Sometimes these monsters just walk by him but sometimes they talk to him, either to have a normal conversation or to remind him of his crimes. He has a hard time telling them apart from real monsters so if someone of the gang is with him he will ask them if they can see them, and if they say no then it's an hallucination.
He often tends to cling to one member of the gang so that when the hallucinations are back he is not alone and they can help him make the difference between real and fake. The one he clings to the most is Horror because since he is aphasic and doesn't talk Dust knows that if he hears talking when they are together it is automatically an hallucination because Horror practically only uses sign language to communicate.
Unlike Horror it was fairly easy to diagnose him and everyone in the gang is very supportive and do their best to help him, like any found family should, Dust is very grateful ♡
#original post#utmv#undertale#undertale au#disabled au#dust sans#dusttale sans#murder sans#dusttale#schizophrenic dust#schizophrenic dust sans#bad sanses#bad sanses gang#nightmare's gang#mtt#murder time trio#horror sans#nightmare sans#killer sans
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I am obsessed w ur Maze runner fics omgggg. could I request a Gally x female reader where shes autistic and the gladers think shes just a little strange but he thinks her quirkiness is cute!! love you 😇
FINALLY I get to write for my boy Gally.
I'd like to preface this by saying I am probably neurodivergent myself, but I am not diagnosed or an expert and I have researched into autistic traits in girls for this piece. I am sorry for any inaccuracies.
A BIT DIFFERENT PT. 1
MASTERLIST | GALLY MASTERLIST
PART 1 | PART 2
SUMMARY: See above. Track-hoe! Fem! Autistic! Reader x Gally. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.
WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some of the Gladers acting like dicks, my potentially slightly inaccurate depiction of autism. That's it.
You aren't quite like the other Gladers.
Well, the obvious is that you're a girl- a very rare occurrence in the Glade since you're the only one.
Though, you're not the kind of girl the Gladers expected (*cough* wanted *cough*). Based off of their very limited and slightly stereotypical knowledge of women.
Obviously.
When you came up in the Box, you panicked more than most. Which can easily be because you were a girl surrounded by a dozen boys. Which is terrifying.
But then you didn't speak.
The emotions and stress of it all led to you becoming completely non-verbal. It wasn't that you didn't want to speak, but it was like every time you tried, no words came out.
Most of the boys tried talking to you at least once, but they have no understanding of personal space and you hated how loud they spoke all the time.
A lot of them gave up after a while.
They thought you were weird. You avoided eye contact, weren't really sure how to read their emotions and hated the boisterous nature of the majority of the population.
Even when you did regain your voice, you took little interest in their conversations and they took your blank state as being rude. But you weren't being rude; you would listen and nod but you didn't take interest in them, so you didn't act like you did.
Things got better when you got a job as a Track-hoe. You found an affinity for plants and very quickly gave Zart a run for his money in the Gardens. Through experience and writing down all your findings in a small notebook Minho gave you during your first week or so when you wouldn't speak- you now know everything about the Gardens.
All of the plants name, their ideal growing conditions, all the uses they possess and even how to cook them properly. Frypan's veg stew has greatly improved since your arrival.
You could spend hours talking about the Gardens, though most of the boys don't really care about that.
A lot of the boys find you strange, like I previously said. There are a few that keep an eye on you and extend their kindness. Newt and Frypan amongst that crowd with Minho turning a blind eye to the robbery of his Map supplies so you can use them for your notes. It keeps your interactions brief and it means he doesn't have to endorce your plant rambles. The man is far too busy.
Though, not all the Gladers are simply being polite.
The first time you met Gally was when one of the boys stole your book and was teasing you about it. He punched him squared in the jaw, scaring the shit out of you and landing Gally a twenty-four hour hold in the Slammer.
You decided to approach him at his work after that, thanking him for looking out for you.
And you actually kind of became friends after that.
You held back at first, but when Gally started asking you about your job, you started telling him everything.
He actually genuinely enjoys hearing what you have to say. And he finds your blunt and occasionally out of pocket comments amusing.
He thinks it's cute. He doesn't really know when he started crushing on you. But your quirks and mannerisms always bring a smile to his face.
He also becomes your guard dog. Absolutely no one is going to mess with you, especially when the machine that is Gally is glaring at them from a few feet away.
You don't like Bonfire nights. Sure, it's great that you have another boy to add to the population, but you don't enjoy the celebrations. They're loud and the fires burn bright and everyone is touching or fighting. It makes your chest feel tight and you can hear the blood pumping around your skull. You hate it.
So, you sit away from the commotion, your legs crossed as you doodle another sketch of a plant, labelling the different parts.
"Yo, Green-thumb," you look up to find Gally approaching, two glasses of his suspicious liquid in hand. "Fancy a drink?"
Green-thumb is something he called you jokingly once, and now it's kind of stuck.
"Sure," you smile at him as he sits down next to you, passing you a drink. "Wouldn't you rather be enjoying the Bonfire?"
"Nah, I've kicked enough Greenie butt for one day." You scoff, putting your book down for a second to take a sip.
You visibly cringe at the harsh taste. You don't like the drink, but Gally's made it, so some small part of you is determined to drink it.
"Whatcha writing about today?" He picks up your book, admiring your handwork. "Yarrow, eh?"
"Mhm," you nod, fiddling with your pencil. "It's good for headaches and sickness. It's a wildflower I found in the Deadheads and moved some here so the Medjacks have easy access to it. It'll probably be useful in the morning if everything keeps drinking this klunk." You swill the drink around the jar and Gally chuckles.
"You don't have to drink it."
"I know," you unintentionally snap, "I want to. You made it."
Gally's heart flutters at this comment, even if it is just plain honesty to you. He looks away, blinking as he looks at your perfectly organised Gardens.
"What?" You ask.
"What what?"
"You look flustered."
"I'm not."
"Okay."
He hesitates, deciding to finally ask a question he's been meaning to ask. He clears his throat. "Would you, uh, would you ever consider dating someone?"
You tilt you head, looking at him whilst he avoids eye contact. "In the Glade?"
"Uh, yeah, if someone's caught your eye?"
You shrug. "Maybe. But you're the only person here I like."
There's a pause as Gally processes that. He knows you well enough by now that you don't mean it that way; you're just blunt.
"Yeah, but you like me as a friend, right?"
Now, you pause. Honestly, you're not really sure. You think Gally is attractive, but it's not like you're friends with many people to compare how you feel about Gally to how you feel about other friends.
So, you shrug.
The line of questioning is starting to make you panic, though.
Gally raises his eyebrow. "You... don't know?"
"Yeah, I don't know." He doesn't know what to say to this. "But it doesn't really matter, right?"
Friendships and relationships aren't that different. It's just a close friendship with some physical attributes.
That's it, really.
Gally knows you. But he's still learning to see things how you see them.
"Yeah, I guess."
This is the conversation that plagued Gally's mind for a long time.
He didn't mean to start acting like a dick. But Gally is Gally, and he isn't the best at expressing his emotions in a healthy way.
So, he unintentionally starts avoiding you.
Somehow, saying you don't know if you like him is worse than flat out rejecting him. And he'd rather go without.
You, however, are taking this horrendously.
It's been days now and safe far you've thrown a trowel at someone and ripped some fiddly vines off of one of the support growers.
The Glade is starting to notice your rise in temper, which ends up resulting in a confrontation.
You don't like confrontation, but it's been a week and you don't know what you've done wrong.
"Did I do something?" You ask Gally.
He's in the middle of his work, fixing one off the old shacks with a couple of other boys.
They all freeze.
It's rare for you to be away from the Gardens in the middle of the day, and they don't want to see why.
"Uh, give us a moment," Gally instructs his colleagues and they don't hesitate to listen. "Look, (Y/N)-"
"What did I do? Are you mad at me?"
"Wha- no." He sighs. "I'm not mad at you."
"Then what's wrong? Why are you avoiding me?" He goes silent for a moment. "Gally, what did I do? Do you not like me, anymore? Did I-"
"I like you."
You're perplexed. "I like you, too? So, why are you being a dick?"
"No," he scoffs, throwing his head back. "I like like you. Like, I wanna go on dates and klunk. A-and you said you didn't know how you felt about me and it was like you didn't even care."
You stand there, blinking at him.
In his absence, you realised that you do like Gally. You didn't think you'd miss talking to someone, you definitely don't care when don't hear from Newt or Frypan for weeks.
But you missed Gally.
He opens his mouth again to speak, but he doesn't get the chance when you rush towards him. Throwing your arms around him, you hug him, which completely startles him and knocks him backwards.
You've never hugged him before.
"I think I like you, too," you mumble as his arms come to loosely hang around your waist. You pull back slightly, looking at him.
He grins. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you nod.
His eyes flicker to your lips and you do the same before meeting his gaze again. "Can I kiss you?" You ask, forward as always.
He chuckles. "Please."
You lean forward, not quite sure what you're doing but it's a peck that sparks a fire inside you.
You pull away, resting your foreheads against each other, enjoying the peaceful moment.
"Oi," Alby makes you both jump from a few feet away, "get back to work, shanks. The shuck are you doing?"
You awkwardly step back, feeling heat rush to your face as you sheepishly look at the floor.
Gally, however, is grinning from ear to ear.
You like him.
And that's more than enough for him.
First Gally fic done. A bit shorter than some others but I wasn't quite sure what else to do with this.
I hope you enjoyed anyway :))
#🍃 petri tmr#🌿 petri tmr gally#🌿 petri writes#🌿 petri writes tmr#tmr fanfiction#tmr imagines#the maze runner#gally tmr#gally imagine#tmr gally
169 notes
·
View notes
Note
*coughs* you should write something about 1389 hob and dream fucking nasty behind the white horse
Hob Gadling has had, to say the least, a bloody strange afternoon. At this point, he's more or less written it off as some sort of demented jest, the sort of thing you boast about when you've had a few too many tankards of ale and your mates about you to impress, and -- well, it was odd that the stranger knew his name without being told, but perhaps he's been in London longer than it seems, and learned it elsewhere. And the promise to meet a hundred years from now... well, they laughed. They all laughed. Hob laughed. It was only the stranger who kept looking at him as coolly and calmly as if he actually meant it. He's not a bad-looking bloke, if a bit pale, peaky and vaguely resembling an anchorite shut up in a church wall for years without seeing another living soul and becoming decidedly spooky as a result. Has he been shut up in a church wall? Seems like a waste.
Still, the others are making jokes about Hob's newfound immortal grandeur and aren't paying attention; they're pounding on the table and shouting at the wench to bring more wine, and for some reason, Hob feels anxious, as if he needs to run after them and double-check that he actually heard what he thought he did. So he gets to his feet, jostles through the trestle tables, the stools and chairs and boots and swords and stacks of logs for the great fire, past the spot where Chaucer is now explaining something about a lecherous miller, and out into the muddy forecourt, trampled with the hooves of horses and the paws of hounds, the footprints of the servants fetching more water and handing down arriving visitors, and spots the two of them about to vanish down the Thames towpath -- or somewhere else, though there's nowhere else to properly go, out here beyond the city walls. He doesn't have to say a word. He could just count it as some lighthearted tavern-banter and forget it.
Instead, never being one to do the sensible thing when the adventurous one could suffice, Hob bellows, "OY!"
The pale man and the dark lady stop in their tracks and glance 'round at him, and he waves in vigorous demonstration of the fact that he wants a word. The man seems unwilling to comply, but the lady gives him a smart shove in the ribs, and he huffs deeply and sweeps toward Hob. He still looks exactly like the Devil would in human form, as if he's strolled off the page of an illuminated manuscript depicting the temptation of Jesus Christ in the desert: dark hair, stormy eyes, a ruby like the fires of hell, that black robe and alabaster skin, something rare and strange and otherwordly that might burn Hob if he touched it. Sounding deeply impatient, he says, "Aye?"
"This way." Hob leads him around the corner of the White Horse, to the troughs and kailyards in the back, splattered in mud, rainwater, the midden-heap, and thick clumps of torn-up sod. Once they're alone, he says, "Were you just... having me on? Back there?"
The stranger stares at him icily, but with a hint of deliberate, goading challenge. "I don't understand."
"You knew my name. You said that we would meet again, one hundred years from now. How would you know that?"
"It is of no concern to you. Do you want it or not?"
"Oh," Hob says, leaning against the wattle-and-daub wall and flashing his most rakish and charming smile. "I do. If that's what's on the offering here, m'lord. But I just wanted to be clear on whether, if it was a bargain, some sort of boon was expected in exchange."
The stranger's eyes move down him slowly, taking him in from head to heel. Hob hasn't washed in a while, aye, and his hair is long and scruffy and his beard isn't much better, and his cloth is poor enough to make any bloody nobleman, besotted of their stupid sumptuary laws, to run away screaming and clutch his marten-trimmed cloak for comfort (no ermine, unless you're royalty). But he's tall and strong and straight-bodied, has a longsword strapped around his waist and walks with the confidence of a man who knows how to use it, has all his own white teeth and a smile that folk tend to melt for, the very smile he is employing now. The stranger's pale cheeks turn the faintest hint of pink, like the first flush of sunrise on Midwinter-morn. Then he says, "You need offer me nothing. The bargain is made, and will be kept."
"Certes, m'lord?" Hob takes another step, close enough that they're suddenly nose to nose, and the stranger flinches slightly. "Nothing?"
"Are you..." The stranger looks as if he cannot possibly comprehend this utterly bizarre behavior. "Do you think I want something?"
"You came to talk to me," Hob points out. "You were the one who seemed willing to act as if my fool wish was real. Why is that?"
The stranger's gaze drops deliberately to his lips. Then it flicks back up to his eyes. "Because," he says, "I'm interested."
"In what?"
"In whether you'll be begging for death in a hundred years' time." Again that oblique, goading look. "I think you will. My sister believes that you will yet surprise us."
"I'm a surprising man," Hob says smugly. "You'll lose."
"If you say so." The stranger folds his arms, either in petulance or in an attempt to stop Hob in his tracks. Either way, it doesn't work. "I say you've no idea what you're.... asking for."
There's an unmistakable seductive burr in that voice, so incongruously deep for a Devil who looks as if one strong gust might blow him away, and Hob feels it down to the toes of his battered boots. "What say," he murmurs, almost against the stranger's mouth, close enough to feel the other's breath on his cheek, "that I did?"
The pause that follows is even longer, crackling at the edge of potentiality and possibility, and -- Hob doesn't know exactly what he's doing, but it's not the first time he's pursued an assignation with a handsome gent out back, out of sight. His first meeting with Wat, may God assoil him, was, after all, almost like this, and for all his standoffishness and snobbery, the stranger hasn't bothered to actually step back. Lucifer was the most beautiful of the Almighty's angels, before he fell. Is this exactly what Hob is about to do? Sell his soul to the Devil out behind a tavern, as the bells are calling Vespers? Or sell something else, if it gave him the chance to live forever?
"I should go," the stranger murmurs. "My sister awaits."
"Sure you won't give me something to remember you by? A hundred years is a long time, m'lord. If I grow that old, I might forget."
"Oh." The stranger's eyes flick up to meet Hob's again, feral and thunderous and threatening to devour Hob altogether, body and mind and soul. "I don't think you will."
Another instant -- a frozen, endless instant -- and then it snaps. The stranger seizes Hob by his grimy tunic, shoves him back against the wall, and Hob, and it please you, does plenty of seizing and shoving in return. The kiss tastes like weak English wine, nothing so good since they lost Gascony and its lush vineyards (perhaps that is why the Black Prince, while he lived, sought so ceaselessly to retrieve it?), like woodsmoke and ash and wind and summer, like the blood where they've bitten each other's lips and are in fair danger of breaking each other's noses. Hob closes his eyes and pulls the stranger closer, wrapping his arms around him, making sure that there is no doubt, that when the time comes again (if indeed it should), they will know each other at once, by scent and sight and touch, by sense and speech and taste. Hob Gadling would do far worse than to kiss a beautiful man as if all the world was ending, if it gave him this gift of eternity. And for a moment, for a blinding, lightning-struck instant, he thinks, It's real. It's real.
They kiss in a grappling, struggling, stubborn ferocity, both of them trying to get the upper hand on the other, until Hob pulls his mouth back with a bit of a jerk and goes to his knees, pulling the frankly excessive flourishes of that black robe aside and fumbling to find if there are anything resembling breeches below it. He momentarily thinks the stranger is going to stop him, but he doesn't. He jerks at Hob's hair and growls something that sounds like do it if you dare -- and then Hob tugs the laces apart and draws his cock out, pale and hard and perfect as a Roman statue, of the kind that they still sometimes dig up in York. He takes it into his mouth, wraps his lips around the shaft and sucks slow and considering and deep, and the stranger utters a low, shivering whimper that Hob, once again, feels to the back of his spine. It is wet and raw and too fast and too slow at once, it is like a dream of the sort that wakes you arched and clutching and in need of changing the bedclothes -- Hob closes his eyes and licks, moves his tongue with a devilish little flick, and takes it deep, to the back of his throat, sucks down, and --
The stranger loses himself with another maddeningly deep half-growl, half-moan, tugging at Hob's hair again, almost losing his balance, shuddering from head to toe as his pleasure (or something like that) washes through him like a tidal wave. Then, slowly, as if neither of them are entirely sure what has just happened, he pulls back, as Hob turns his head and spits. The stranger laces himself up again, steps back, and says, desperately trying not to breathe too hard, "You -- you need not have done that. It was -- crude."
"What sort of thing is that to say to a man who's just made you forget your own name?" Hob cocks a dark eyebrow. "And by the way, I don't think I caught that myself?"
The stranger stares him dead in the eye for a full five heartbeats, just to make it very plain that he heard and does not intend to answer. Then he whirls around, cloak swirling, and takes his leave. Hob hears his footsteps striding away, fading, and he leans back against the wall, suddenly rather weak-kneed himself. Fuck. Well. Fuck.
This is going to be a very interesting century indeed.
-------
"Well?" Death says, much too sweetly, as she is badly stifling a smile. "Did you go.... talk to Robert Gadling?"
"Yes," Dream says with tremendous, dogged dignity. "We spoke. That is what happened. Nothing else, by the way. Except for speaking. Which we did. Thank you very much."
(Death of the Endless smirks like a cat in cream all the way back home.)
(It is really terribly irritating.)
#fishfingersandscarves#ask#dreamling#dreamling ff#the circle of mutual enablement/spiderman-pointing-at-spiderman continues
708 notes
·
View notes
Text
Get To Know Me Tag
Tagged by my darling @telomeke, thanks Tel!
Do you make your bed?
It’s the first thing I do every morning, because I am Like That. I can hear @bengiyo booing already.
What’s your favorite number?
21. I don’t actually remember why. 🤔
What is your job?
I’m a consultant, and I will leave it at that maddeningly vague description.
If you could go back to school, would you?
Absolutely not, I did my time in those mines.
Can you parallel park?
Not really, because I’ve never lived anywhere where perfecting the skill was necessary. It’s not natural for me because my spatial reasoning skills are just awful.
A job you had that would surprise people?
I don’t think I’ve had any? I had a pretty classic job trajectory from babysitting to restaurant work to school-related internships to my primary career.
Do you think aliens are real?
I think there are definitely other life forms in the universe that we don’t know about but I sincerely doubt any of the depictions in our media have captured them properly.
Can you drive a manual car?
Like parallel parking, I know the theory but have had no reason to perfect the skill.
What’s your guilty pleasure?
I don’t feel guilty about my pleasures.
Tattoos?
One that I got on my 18th birthday just because I could. It has no special meaning and it’s in a spot I can’t see so I mostly forget it’s there until someone else notices it and expresses shock. I guess I don’t seem like the tattoo type.
Favorite color?
It changes with my moods, I’ve been feeling purple lately.
Favorite type of music?
As if. I like so much music of so many types.
Do you like puzzles?
Yes, but I am only rarely in the mood to do one. I like it as a group activity you can do with friends while chatting.
Any phobias?
Hmm. There are things I don’t like but I don’t think anything rises to the level of a phobia.
Favorite childhood sport?
Softball, I was a pitcher!
Do you talk to yourself?
Constantly.
What movies do you adore?
I’ve never been much of a movie girlie, I like long form fiction which is why dramas are more my bag.
Coffee or tea?
I tragically had to give up coffee for my health so now it’s primarily green tea for me.
First thing you wanted to be growing up?
Alone. :)
Tel probably already tagged everyone we mutually know but just in case I will tag @twig-tea @sorry-bonebag @neuroticbookworm @hyeoni-comb @my-rose-tinted-glasses @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle @blmpff @happypotato48 @befuddledcinnamonroll.
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
What would Spider's life have been like if Lyle had been given custody of him after Quaritch was locked up in the Cat in the Cradle ?
That's a super interesting thought, and it probably deserves its own oneshot. If Lyle had raised Spider since he was a kid, things would have been a lot different. First and foremost, Spider would have grown up believing his father was innocent. He probably would write to Quaritch and visit him often in prison (unless the judge forbade it). If he wasn't allowed any contact with his father still then I'm sure Lyle would have done a great job explaining what really happened to his dad, and Spider miss him a lot, counting down the days till he got out.
I reckon Lyle wouldn't raise Spider alone. He'd have to prove he had the means (both financially and emotionally), and I think he'd draw on RDA resources quite heavily. His best friend Z-dog would help out a lot and I really like the idea of those two co-parenting despite the fact neither is interested in the other romantically. Z-dog is a strong lesbian and Lyle (after getting custody of Spider) wouldn't be interested in chasing his own romances anymore.
Lyle would be a good uncle to Spider. I can see him sending Spider to a good private boarding school when he gets older, which Spider enjoys. When he was younger Lyle would struggle at first but eventually prove to Spider that he can give the kid what he needs. He's goofy and sympathetic, but he knows when to rein it in to be there emotionally for Spider. (On another note, I think he'd still be called Spider as a result of Lyle's jokey personality).
Quaritch would make sure that all of his funds were transferred to Lyle so that Spider never yearned for anything. They'd probably live in a semi-modest house, and Lyle would be too soft on Spider on the rare occasions Spider missed chores. Spider wouldn't get in trouble too much because he develops a close relationship with his uncle, borne out of mutual respect. If Spider ever stayed out too late though, Lyle would be super overprotective (maybe more so than Quaritch would have been) because he knows it's not his child he's looking out for. He'd be terrified to do anything wrong and so if Spider caused him to worry then Lyle would not take it well. That being said, Lyle is also Spider's biggest defender whenever the kid does something stupid at school (which is not often). He'd also play the whole 'kid misses his dad' angle at the principle and then later he and Spider would smirk at each other as they made their way out to the car.
Overall, Spider would be well rounded, respectful and happy. Lyle would be content with his life (he'd probably have given up the RDA) and not be able to imagine life if he hadn't been the one to raise Spider. Whether Spider was allowed to talk to his dad in prison or not, Lyle would keep Quaritch well informed and show him pictures of how Spider is getting on etc.
This was super interesting to think about because I'd never really considered it properly before. This is just one AU though but I'm sure there could be more angsty alternatives. I'm surprised there aren't really any fics that depict Lyle raising Spider because I'd love to read one!
#spider socorro#miles quaritch#lyle wainfleet#recom wainfleet#recom quaritch#avatar the way of water#avatar modern au#miles spider socorro#avatar 2#my stuff: the cat's in the cradle
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you tell us more about your horses? Are they part of a story? Love the creature design
boy are they
Félix - he's the main character of the 1860s cycle of the Inver setting. Well, one of three main characters. He's my take on the classic Victorian orphan story with a changelinegtwist, and ends up becoming a regular conman who mainly does door to door sales of bullshit snake oil and insurance scams. Also a master of pretending to be hit by a carriage. A falling out with his two best friends/boyfriends results in him trying and failing to make it on his own, and he gets captured by the Púca just as he's basically dying of exposure in the middle of winter. In return for saving his life, the Púca takes on Félix as a faery servant whose job is to feed his new master by tricking humans into falling into the barrow (the endless field in the Otherworld which is the Púca's territory). He tries to patch things up with his friends, only to find that five years have passed since his disappearance, and old arguments have become deep festering wounds. Neither do they believe that it's really him.
Yeah so as a horse(/shapeshifter) he's the youngest, he's spiky all the time, and he tries hard to hide that part of himself. He wants nothing to do with it. He's the one in my icon. Personality-wise he's a manipulative liar who would say anything to keep his friends at his side, even at their expense.
Macha was once in Félix's exact position - snatched up by the Púca who told her she was special, that she was its favourite. But that was hundreds of years ago now, and the Púca has a shiny new toy to play with. Macha has been abandoned and is slowly losing herself to the erosion of time, and the way she sees it, the best way to regain her former status is to take care of the Púca's newest pet.
Macha spends most of her time as a horse and can be distinguished by her long straight mane and tail. She cannot tell the truth no matter how hard she tries, and speaks mainly in riddles.
Puck is the Púca itself, a pure shapeshifter with no human origin, the original master of the field and Lord of Lies. It is intensely clever and loves to fuck with people, and particularly enjoys watching its own underlings fight for its attention. Puck never takes a human form and tends to appear slightly abstract or unreal, not like a flesh and blood creature, with a minimalist silhouette. I'll be honest I have rarely drawn Puck like ever because the whole point of it is fear of the unknown, and I don't feel strong enough artistically to depict it properly.
Pascal is the modern day equivalent of Puck and its de facto replacement as the master of the field. Pascal is nothing like Puck and likes to throw the whole kitchen sink into his appearance in an effort to seem flashy and intimidating. he is in love with his own face and that's why he tends to take his centaur form in a certain... direction. You can learn more about him including details about his origin and human disguise in my sketchbook all about him with like fifty unpublished drawings but basically he's just kind of a dipshit jerk with a massive ego who gets tamed by a bona fide horse trainer. He has a habit of abducting humans to psychologically torture them on his TV set, but he claims that not all of the abductions are his doing, and that, for some, he has been falsely accused...
Unicorn is Pascal's antagonist. It is mysterious and appears to live on or under the water of Lough Cánamac, the centre of magic in the country of Inver. Unicorns are not supposed to exist in this setting, let alone unicorns which might be the actual culprit behind the most brutal abductions
296 notes
·
View notes
Note
What about My Pride? The uh YouTube series, I think the writer was problematic somehow but that might be a thing to mention and also I’d like to see your thoughts
It's on the list! My shorter, more concise thoughts are that while I appreciate it as very much a labor of love with some talented artists and voice actors on the team, the actual story and writing is disappointing, tone deaf, and downright infuriating at times.
I guess rattling off my issues (spoilers included):
I found the central handling of disability and Nothing's character to be poorly thought out. Needing multiple abled bodied characters to get her moving, it feels like there was little research done in trying to depict a character like her.
I hate that her name stays as "Nothing" and that an abled bodied lion lectures her about accepting it. Terribly thought out scene. I'm a she should've changed her name to Everything truther.
The central gay lion romance that the series is based off is pretty poorly written with very few sprinkles of endearing and fun moments between them unfortunately. Hover is...mean? She's a terrible partner and I was genuinely upset that her not sticking up for her girlfriend all because she missed idk a lion recital (something Hover?? canonically should not give a shit about???) was scummy. it would be one thing if Hover was meant to be in the wrong...but she's not depicted as that?
The two spend so much time apart, you start to get kind of annoyed at how much gay lions were part of the marketing and then the gay lions! weren't there!!
Didn't care for it!!
I actually liked the world and premise. I enjoy unfair and cruel societies, I like the idea of someone working to change the system (though I very rarely see the execution of that I like, very rarely will stories depict the actual necessary actions for confronting a society like this: tearing it down entirely and building something better).
I hate Feather. Them pulling their punch and not killing him was lame.
Nothing's brother being the twist villain should have been set up better, it doesn't hit the same way it could have had the series planted the seeds earlier on. We have no reason to understand why he would act this way, he was doing just fine better? Why not set up tensions when we meet the group of young male lions?
I don't like that the only real importance Nothing holds isn't because of something about her in the present, but the importance of her able bodied past life. Her ending with her wanting to die is...bleak because I don't believe she has recognized her own worth.
Poor handling of abuse. I disagree with the notion that trying to give depth to abusers is in itself apologia, but the show is trying to like....idk how to say this properly but it wants to "both sides" Nothing's mother's treatment of her, ya know? I found it really icky.
Uh I think I could say more but you'd have to give me a specific topic to bite onto or I'll keep meandering lol but I didn't care for the show but I do feel for fans of the show who are stuck on a cliffhanger. I hope the creator releases the rest of the story plan at the very least.
17 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jorona11
...
aliteralgrizzlybear
Black Lives Matter
the-universe-forever-expanding
A supernova exploded into stardust
yotb0ka
y o t b 0 k a
reallymissthe90s
Untitled