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margueritedaisies · 6 months

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I just love drawing families of fictional characters, its interesting to think of how each sibling would look. I try to make them different from one another but at the same time maintain familial similarities.

Jinzha resembles their mom, Muzha their dad, and Nezha's a good mix of both.

Also get ready with some sibling dynamic rant, mostly relation HCs by me.

Enough with the parent child dynamic

I want sibling dynamic. Where these three come to terms on what happened between them. Specifically Muzha and Nezha's interaction is the one I want to see.

Tbh those two's fates in the myth reminded me of Hyakkimaru and Tahomaru in Dororo.

Like Nezha and Muzha had so much potential to gain solidarity with each other. Because Jinzha could never relate to them as the ignored or unwanted child. Muzha has that middle child stuggle fr.

Muzha is the one so eager to gain their fathers favor trying to meet Jinzha's level . Nezha wants nothing from his father so he makes himself worse.

Muzha's frustration with Nezha is that Nezha is rebellious, disrespectful of their dad

While Nezha's frustration to Muzha is that Muzha is so blinded and always struggling to achieve something so futile. Deep down he hates how Muzha is suffering this way but he wouldnt speak of it. This is why they always at odds.

They should make a movie focusin the Li brothers fr

Other than overusing the actual myths.

Fuck the ending from the original myth, they didnt even consider how the children felt from all the abuse. Not even mention of Muzha's death.

Enough Ao Bing, what about Muzha???

And the moral lesson is just about "respecting elders"?? The story still had so much to wrap up. How can you call this a family if there is some sort of hierarchal system. A family requires empathy to maintain that connection.

Tbh its kinda realistic

Families and siblings can still inflict trauma from each other .And a story based on reconcilation is a good way for this to be about family counselling.

I wanna see the "what ifs". It could be each brothers own story of self healing from the trauma caused on each other.

Maybe Im getting my hopes up too much, but it could be a development for them to forgive, start anew and an opportunity to connect and catch up on what they missed on each other.

Edit:

As for Jinzha he also has his own struggles as the eldest. Keeping up the station as the golden favored and perfect son. But its Asian family dynamics, which means hes in a lot of pressure. But he is mentally and emotionally strong. The brothers always busy on his studies ,future responsibilities and training to be able to spend time together. Their timetables seemed to be planned out to always not meet. Jinzha especially had less freetime. And if he ever came across any of his brothers, it was only one of them never both.

He doesnt mind being a buffer for the other two feuding but it does stress him out that it will never change. But he'll make sure to give time and attention to both of them as much as he can.

Other than keeping up his fathers expectations he also doesnt want to fail as a big brother to them🥺😭

Muzha and Nezha can see his efforts so they do not dare hold anything against him. Muzha still keeps his competitive attitude when Jinzha's around but accepts any offered kindness from Jinzha. While Nezha enjoys his company when he gets the chance.

Also because I tend to hold on to this little bit of bonding😭🥺🥺Jinzha trying to be the best big bro

Thinking of the contrast in the future where Jinzha was tasked to torture Nezha destroyed me😭😭😭What did Jinzha even feel while he had to do it??

Also here some Nezha with his hair down again

#li nezha #li muzha #li jinzha #nezha #nezha fanart #nezha lmk #character hc #sibling dynamics #li brothers #investiture of the gods

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haitanisbug · 2 years

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Yandere Bonten

Includes: Mikey, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, Kokonoi, Kakucho

CW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY. Yandere themes implied kidnapping, torture etc etc.

MIKEY

It's taken a long time for you to warm up to Mikey, and he’s aware. A part of him almost doesn't want you to fall in love with him because he knows he's undeserving of it. He left all of his old friends, he wasn't able to protect his sister and his older brother, so how in the world is he supposed to protect you? The guilt of knowing he doesn't deserve you or his love rips at him every day but that doesnt stop him from keeping you safe and secure with him at all times.

You have the least leniency out of any of the other darlings. You can go outside, you get to travel with Mikey, you get to see other people, but the catch is that you don't have a moment to yourself. Ever. You're always in Mikeys eyesight. He sits you on his lap during Bonten meetings, he takes you with him on dangerous jobs but has got you secure in his car. He’s so paranoid about you leaving him or someone taking you away from him that he doesn't even trust you with any of the other Bonten members or any bodyguards. You're on a metaphorical leash at all times and Mikey has no problems with keeping that leash short. This angered you so much at first. Never having a moment to yourself really messed with your sense of self. You hated Mikey for it, in the way he almost treated you as if you were an object. All of his actions towards you are calculated too. He forces you to wear a necklace with a tracking device. You can't take it off, and you know it’s just a glorified collar.

You can't stand the way he flaunts you to other people. In every meeting he ever has, the other person stares at you while you sit prettily on Mikey’s lap. It's been hours of you sitting there, Mikey conducting business and it's boring. It has you squirming to at least walk a bit, but Mikey is paranoid about you even walking around his office when someone else is in the room.

His grip on your hips tighten and he’ll whisper into your ear “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?” He reveres you more than anything, and once that becomes obvious, how he despises making you upset, how he treats you like a queen when around the other Bonten executives….. You start to fall for him.

SANZU

Does not see his darling as anything but an object that he can use for his own desire. He takes pleasure in making you cry, in doing things to your body that harms you in any way. He's a sadist. Loves pain and loves inflicting it. In his mind that's how everyone is. Where's the joy in life if you don't get to experience the sensations of pain? This is what makes him the most dangerous yandere. Because he's delusional about it all. He thinks you want to be with him because you enjoy this sort of pain. He thinks you love him because of it. Any action that he draws out of you, screaming, crying, shivering, all of it is done because you enjoy it. At least that's what goes through Sanzu’s head.

He's strict too but he changes the rules every day. Some days he demands you greet him at the door with a kiss, but the next day when you walk up to him to place a kiss on his lips he’ll get angry and punish you for not following his rules. “I don't want you to greet me with a kiss, I want you kneeling at the door in front of my feet by the time I walk in. I told you that yesterday that's how I want to be greeted, '' he says. He didn't tell you that. He never tells you when he changes the rules and he does that on purpose so he can have an excuse to punish you.

He gets a thrill out of seeing the confusion in your eyes and how you jump every time he walks into the room. You never know when he’ll punish you because you never know if you're doing something wrong. You're terrified constantly, and Sanzu loves that power. It riles him up knowing he has your life, your emotions, every reaction from you in the palm of his hand.

He walks into his penthouse with bags full of gifts that he went out and bought earlier that day. He was in a good mood, and the thought of spoiling his darling in some designer clothing excited him. He couldn't wait to get back and dress you all up so pretty, then rip it all off of you and fuck you into tomorrow. When he walks into his bedroom the first thing he notices is the chain that usually keeps you tied to his bed post has been broken. You're on the floor in the corner of the room shaking, eyes trained on the handle of the door he just swung open. Sanzu’s eyes drift to where yours are looking in fear and he notices scratch marks on the wood. It all clicks in his brain. You were trying to fucking escape. Despite his initial anger, Sanzu laughs. You jump at the sound, trying to curl further into yourself.

“See now darling, I was trying to be nice to you today.” He places the gift bags down and walks towards you. You let out a sob knowing what's about to come. “Guess this is what I get for being a nice guy, huh? Torture is the only gift your getting today.”

RAN

If Sanzu is the worst yandere to have, then Ran comes in at a close second. Ran is sadistic but only if you break his rules. He’s extremely strict and has a set of rules that he wants you to abide by and must learn them. He has no qualms with doling out cruel punishments if you don't follow what he says. He knows you don't love him back. He's a smart guy, he doesn't miss the anger that's pooling in your eyes when he's burning you for speaking out at dinner. He doesn't miss the curses you direct at him under your breath when he has you over his knee, spanking you for not cleaning up the penthouse properly in his absence.

He's aware. And it does make him sad at times. If you only listened. If you didn't speak out so much he wouldn't have to hurt you. If you only got rid of your selfish tendencies and chose to love him, then he wouldn't have to punish you so much. But the game is fun too. Whittling you into his perfect little housewife is something he’s come to love. He almost welcomes the brattiness because that means he gets to correct you. He’ll take your feisty nature and transform it into one of reverence for him and him alone. In no time you'll be at his feet thanking him for the life and love that he's given you. Yea he doesn't like your selfish nature but boy is he taking great enjoyment in ripping that way from you.

You’ve disobeyed him again. Doing what? Doesn't matter. There's a long list of rules that you break often to get on Ran’s nerves. He was planning on having a sweet night-in with you. Maybe watch some movies and, if you stayed perfectly still warming his cock through the whole movie, he might have even let you have a slice of the cake he bought earlier that day. But you had to fuck up, and Ran wont let that go. He’s had you over his knee for the past hour, his baton in hand. Every spank on your bare ass needs to be followed up with you counting the number and a ‘thank you’. But your cheeks are ruined at this point, and you’re trying to slide up the bed to get out of his reach. Another spank comes down on your ass and you let out a shriek. This one definitely broke skin.

“Twenty.. Twenty-five, thank you.” You're sobbing into the mattress, broken pleads falling from your lips. Ran just smiles and taps the reddest area of your skin with his finger. You jolt and reach back to push his hand off, but he grabs your wrist and secures it on your back giving it a hard squeeze.

“I know it hurts, honey, but this is what happens when you don’t do what I say.”

RINDOU

Ran is cruel like his brother but unlike Ran, Rindou doesn’t take pleasure in the punishments he gives you. His are harder than Ran’s though. The purpose is to teach you, to warn you and to rehabilitate you. He leaves permanent marks and they leave you sobbing on the floor for hours. Since his punishments are to rehabilitate you, they’re not for fun like Ran’s and he doesn't draw them out. They’re precise, calculated, and deserved depending on the severity of your screw up. His goal is to make you into the perfect darling and do it as fast as he can. He doesn’t like the game, and sees no point in it. He wants your soft and doting touch on him now. He wants his feelings of love and your lips on his shoulder blades now.

So he’ll get the punishment done and over with, then scoop you up in his arms and console you. Telling you that “it will be worse next time but if you learn to obey me then I won't have to hurt you at all.” He’ll run a bath and drop you in, kissing your forehead as he treats the wound he just inflicted on you. It's tiring. You haven't felt another human's touch in so long, and you certainly havent been allowed to speak to anyone either. So when you're broken, exhausted from crying after these punishments, a part of you welcomes Rindou’s touch. You lean into his kisses and accept them knowing that it's all the touch you will ever get. Your future is wrapped up with Rindou and only Rindou.

He knows you’re starting to rely on him for physical comfort. That’s something he can work with. If you start seeking his physical touch then you'll start seeking him for mental comfort soon too. And emotional comfort won't be too far off. Rindou just has to say the right things to get you to fall in love with him now.

“Don’t you know how much this hurts me?” he says softly as he’s washing your body down in the tub. His touches are light and so very careful around your injuries. You look up into his eyes, and it's true. Some sort of pained expression is deep in his eyes. You think he's trying to mess with you but, if he didn't truly care then why would his touches be so gentle? Why would he sound so hurt?

“ ‘m sorry Rin.” you whisper, arms going around to tug his neck closer to yours. You bury your head into his shoulder, a sigh falling from your lips along with another apology. Rindou just smirks as a hand comes up to cup your head. Yea, he thinks. All it’ll take is a little encouragement, and you'll be his sweet housewife in no time.

KOKONOI

He absolutely adores his darling. Spoils her to the max. He's aware that she doesnt love him back. Hes not stupid. But that's where the spoiling comes in. If he can make his darling understand that her life was shit before him, her life was nothing, and Koko has improved it by getting her whatever she wants...then maybe he can get her to fall in love with him.

He's not as strict as Ran but he definitely has a few rules that need to be followed. He even enjoys taking you out on shopping trips.Theres a bunch of rules and conditions that go along with trips like this (trackers being placed on you, your hand in his at all times, eyes on his or at your feet no matter what, you can never answer questions directed at your or talk to anyone when out and about) but it could be worse. At least you get to see the outside world. And the rules that Koko has are always particular. You had a few mess ups at the beginning but after a while the routine and following them became pretty easy.

Koko likes picking out what you wear every day, and if you want to change at any time you have to ask him permission first. Asking permission to eat certain foods, or do certain hobbies throughout the day also have to be done. But at least he lets you do these things. He lets you partake in hobbies and occupy your mind while he's gone, and once you get used to asking permission all of it comes quite naturally. You become his sweet demure, almost bimbo wife. Someone who can't even think or make decisions without having to ask Koko first and that's how Koko breaks you down.

After a while you start to agree that living with Koko isn't bad. He's a terrible tease, he gets rough and handsy at times, and he raises his voice once in a while, but he provides everything for you. You’ve never been so physically spoiled in your whole life. Closets full of clothing and new toys and shiny jewelry. And he provides for you mentally by making all the hard decisions in life for you.

Koko is sitting on the couch of your shared bedroom. Smoking a cigarette and going over budget accounts when you strut out of the closet catching his attention. You've got on a flimsy little number of a lingerie set; baby pink with lace and bows and straps spaced all around it. You know it’s Koko’s favorite color on you, not because he's told but because it's the only color lingerie he ever buys for you. His eyes are trained on you as you make your way over to him, plopping yourself on his lap and slinging an arm around his neck. Koko blows a puff of smoke to the side before leveling you with a lidded gaze.

“Damn doll” He lets out a low whistle bringing a hand to the back of your neck and tugging you towards his face until your lips almost touch. “I'm the only one who gets to see you like this, understand?” He doesn't wait for your response before he's smashing his lips onto yours.

KAKUCHO

Kakucho is in love with his darling. Truly thinks you were made for each other and that the world brought you together. So he doesn't understand why you shy away from his touch at night, or flinch when he walks into the penthouse after a long day of work. He doesn't force himself on you, yea maybe he did kidnap you from your old life...but you weren't receiving the proper type of love. No other man has treated you the way that you need...that you deserve. Kakucho adores you. He showers you with affection. He gives you small acts of love and doesn't force himself on you. So that must mean you love him back right? He totally thinks you do in his mind. I mean he's heard the horror stories that Ran told him about Ran’s own darling. You've never done anything like that to Kakucho. You don't act out on purpose, so that must mean you do love him!

He's the most lenient of all the yanderes, he lets you have free reign of the mansion. He lets you have access to TV and internet (although he's tracking you when they are in use. Can't have you messaging other men right?) The only thing you basically can't do is go outside without his permission. He takes you on dinner dates, he allows you to order things to be delivered to the mansion. Overall he's understanding and wants your love so he allows you to do most things. But that doesn't mean he isnt filled with worry about you. He's got cameras set up around the penthouse at all times. He monitors you from his phone. Of course you don't know about the cameras but what you don't know can't hurt right? Ignorance is bliss afterall.

Kakucho has got you wrapped up in his arms, laying back in bed after a long day of work. You aren't saying anything, in fact you're stiff as a board and Kakucho is getting frustrated. You're lovers, so why won't you act like it? You've barely said a word to him since he got home, and you avert your eyes every time he tries to meet your gaze. He thinks it might have been the blood on his fists that scared you tonight, but then again he comes back with blood on him most nights so why are you acting cold? Kakucho has had enough so if you won't be the sweet lover he expects, then he’ll have to draw it out of you.

“Tell me how much you love me.” You jump at the sudden sound of his voice, but you still don't say anything. “I said.” Kakucho repeats “Tell me. How. much. you. love me.”

“Kaku…. I-” you stop for a second.

Kakucho isn’t known to get angry with you, but you still want to choose your words wisely. You don't know if he’ll ever flip. If his disposition will turn sour at a moment's notice with you. You've seen the way he comes home. You know what he does for a living and you never want to be on the receiving end of that violence.

So you swallow the bile that rises to your throat, and with a tongue that seems heavy with salt you say “I’m madly in love with you. You’re all I ever think about, Kaku.”

He's too pleased with your answer, humming as he kisses the top of your head to notice the shake of your fingers and the sole tear that slips down your cheek.

#mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #rindo x reader #sanzu x reader #kokonoi x reader #kakucho x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers drabbles #hello #posting this again #tj.fics

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rnelodyy · 2 years

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I cannot get over how Obsessed Belos is with Caleb. It’s SO wild, and the deeper you dig the sadder and more disturbing it becomes.

Like,,, Caleb was literally all he had growing up. Their parents were gone, they were (presumably) homeless, they were two street rats trying their best to make it on their own. Caleb was the older sibling, so the weight of caring for Philip fell on his shoulders, even though he was just a kid himself.

And considering the motif of coping through stories (Luz finding comfort in Azura after her dad’s death, Hunter finding comfort in Cosmic Frontier while trying to cope with the fact that he’s a clone), I wouldn’t be surprised if Caleb tried to do something similar for Philip. From Belos’s memories, we can see they used to play pretend a LOT. It’s a lot less scary for a young child if they believe they’re going on wild and wacky adventures than to know the truth – that they’re homeless orphans, moving into a community that regularly hangs people for witchcraft, with Caleb having to do hard labor to afford food and housing and sending his brother to school, while having to sacrifice his own education and skip meals so Philip doesn’t need to go hungry.

Caleb used stories to shield Philip from the worst of their life, which blinded Philip to just how bad his brother was suffering. To Philip, life in Gravesfield was good, but it was only good because of how much Caleb was sacrificing for him.

So when Caleb met Evelyn, of course he took the chance to escape his shitty life. It may have even been a situation like Luz, where he only expected to be gone for a short time, and either returned to find Philip gone, or ended up being trapped on the Isles for longer than he’d anticipated.

Philip, meanwhile, is fucking Losing It. Caleb was his whole world, and now he's just gone, spirited away by an evil witch just like those stories they’d been playing out their whole lives. It may even be a situation like King, where Caleb knew he wasn’t being truthful with the witch hunter stories, but Philip genuinely believed them all.

So Philip goes into the Demon Realm, determined to rescue his brother. He’s practiced this, he’s trained for this, he just needs to find Caleb, save him from whatever tortures that witch has been inflicting on him, open up a portal back to Gravesfield, and everything will go back to normal. So he travels, he meets witches, he kills them, he either gets cursed or discovers that eating Palismen gives him funny powers, so he keeps doing that.

And then, after years of searching, he finds Caleb. Not chained up in a dungeon, or turned into a frog, or a shambling husk of his former self, but free. Happier and healthier than Philip has ever seen him.

Philip tries to grab Caleb and leave with him, but Caleb refuses. The witch who lured him away is his wife now. He’s got a house and a job and a kid on the way. He’s got a Palisman, this stupid fucking red bird that follows him everywhere. Caleb’s good here. He’s not leaving.

And I think Philip just fucking loses it at that point. What do you MEAN you’re not leaving?! We were adventurers! We were gonna be witch hunters together! We were going to do everything together! Did she do something to you? Did you just hate me that much?

Caleb tries to de-escalate, but eventually loses his temper himself. We weren’t adventurers, we were street rats! I was working so YOU could go to school, I was starving myself so YOU wouldn’t have to, I sacrificed EVERYTHING so you’d have a chance at life! You’re old enough to handle yourself now, it’s time to grow up and let me live my own life!

Phil’s not having it. There’s a fight, someone draws a knife, and… we all know how that one ends.

Fast-forward a bit. Philip, now alone and stranded on the Isles, has latched onto the stories he and Caleb used to play pretend with. He’s going to make them come true. He’s going to kill every witch in one fell swoop, become Witch Hunter General, and he’s going to do all of it with his brother by his side.

So he asks for the Collector’s help, and together, they make a Grimwalker.

Philip decides that this is his chance. He can raise this new Caleb properly, make sure that his brother isn’t swayed by the evils of witchcraft again. The new Caleb doesn’t look exactly the same but it’s fine. Having him back is good enough.

And then the new Caleb betrays him too.

Maybe he befriended some witches, maybe he tried to learn magic, maybe he had some reservations about the whole genocide plan. Either way, this Caleb has gone the same way as the first.

So Philip kills him, and starts over with a new Grimwalker. This time he’s gonna get it right. This Caleb is gonna be the one.

But he’s not. He betrays Philip again. So Philip starts over again, tightening the leash this time. New-new-new Caleb can’t leave his sight, isn’t allowed to talk to people without Philip there, because it’s dangerous. But strict parents make sneaky children, and Philip catches new-new-new Caleb making out with a secret witch partner behind his back.

Philip realizes he needs to change his approach. Caleb isn’t listening to him? Well, he’ll make him listen. He makes the next one younger, establishes himself as an authority figure (dad feels too personal, so uncle it is), and makes himself the focal point of this new Caleb’s life. Continuing to call him Caleb feels weird, especially since there’s such a significant age difference between them now, so he gives this one a new name.

They’re going to be witch hunters, so he names the new one Hunter. It’s hilarious when you think about it.

And so the cycle continues. Hunter is born, grows up, rebels, and is killed. Over and over and over again. Philip grows numb to it at this point – he’s already killed dozens of them, and he doesn’t see them as individuals anyway. To him, it’s like a game, resetting and starting over from the last checkpoint to really, really get everything right this time.

He adopts his new identity as Belos, and lets Hunter believe it too. He preaches to towns, pulls more and more power towards himself, with Hunter by his side, his Golden Guard, the most perfect version of Caleb he can make.

They keep betraying him though, so with each iteration, the leash gets tighter. The Hunters become more and more isolated, Belos’s power over them greater and greater. Step out of line and be beaten, show disrespect and be verbally abused, betray him (which can be anything from actively trying to stop his plans to making a friend he didn’t approve of) and be killed, replaced with another Grimwalker.

Belos becomes Emperor of the Isles, and his Grimwalkers become his right hand men, answering only to him. Caleb by his side, just like he’d always wanted. Never mind that the Grimwalkers are nothing like Caleb now – they’re submissive, desperate for affection and attention. They’re afraid of Belos, but cling to him all the same, because he’s all they have. He’s made sure of that.

A few years before the Day of Unity, the culmination of his life's work, Hunter betrays him again. Belos got too lenient, allowed him to take on a student, and now he’s got all sorts of weird ideas in his head again. So he starts over, and this time, he makes sure that Hunter will stay pure and obedient until the Day of Unity.

No contact with the other scouts. No scroll, no crystal ball, no leaving the castle unless it’s for a mission. Keep the number of missions to a minimum, make him associate getting missions with good behavior. Monitor his training, monitor what he studies, keep him safe under lock and key. Make him desperate to please, never quite give him what he needs so he keeps clinging to you for more.

And it works. For a while. At least, until literally a week before the Day of Unity, Hunter shows up in Philip’s mind. And I mean, Philip doesn’t necessarily want to ruin this one, but he’s always liked testing loyalty. He can make another Grimwalker after the Day of Unity if this one fails.

And fail Hunter does, except… he doesn’t die. He escapes. Goes on the run.

Philip tries to get him back, sends out search parties and everything, but Hunter doesn’t turn up, and he’s got other priorities now. It’s fine, Hunter’s got a sigil. He’ll die during the Day of Unity anyway.

And then he fucking shows up to stop him! Him, a gaggle of witch kids, and Luz the Human, and they nearly fight Philip to a standstill! They nearly get the better of him! Philip tries to guilt trip Hunter back to his side – surely he doesn’t want to hurt his beloved uncle – but then what does he see? That Fucking Bird. Caleb’s bird. This one’s DEFINITELY gone too far now, murder mode it is.

But then oops, the Collector gets freed, Philip gets splattered against a wall, and the Draining Spell ends.

However, Phil’s not dead, somehow. He manages to shift his consciousness to one glob of goop that lands on Hunter, and rides along to the human realm, determined to salvage the dumpster fire this whole thing has become.

He gains back strength, spies on the kids, watches as Hunter does boring child stuff that’s absolutely nothing like how Caleb acted, until… Hunter finds a bit of his goop, and like a dumbass, sticks his finger into it. And Philip, who by now has gotten the hang of this whole Venom-stuff, crawls inside a wound, and into Hunter’s bloodstream.

And as he grows in strength, he realizes. This is it. This is the culmination of everything. Hunter isn’t Caleb, but dammit, he’s close enough. Philip can save him now, save him from these witches who have been a terrible influence on him, he can finally, finally complete his great work, with his brother by his side.

So when he gets strong enough, he takes over. Consumes whatever energy Hunter had stored in fat cells and his magic heart and uses it to power himself, growing himself throughout the kid’s whole body. Taking him over.

He’s finally united with Caleb again, he can finally finish what he started. Never mind that Hunter doesn’t want this. Never mind that Hunter fucking hates him for what he did. Never mind that Hunter isn’t Caleb, never mind that Caleb would never, ever have wanted this, never mind that Philip is now the corrupting force, it does. Not. Matter.

And then “Caleb” betrays him again. Because of fucking course he does. Philip literally fucking invaded his body like a parasite and made him kill his own Palisman with his bare hands, and he expected Hunter to just fucking lie down and take it? To let him do whatever? He robbed Hunter of his childhood, of his autonomy, of his personhood, and he expected the kid to not just accept it, but be grateful for it?

Well... Yeah. That’s how far gone he is. That’s how far removed from reality Philip has become. “Caleb” isn’t even a person to him anymore, “Caleb” is some kind of personification of his childhood nostalgia that he keeps trying to bring back into the flesh. And it’s not gonna work, because nobody could ever fill that role. Even the original Caleb wouldn’t be able to fill that role – in fact, that’s why Philip stuck a knife in his chest in the first place!

He’s lost EVERYTHING. He’s killed his own brother, he’s reduced himself to a parasitic goop monster that’s no longer living yet unable to die, the plan he’s spent 400 years working on blew up in his face, the realm he spent so long fighting for has moved on without him, and his latest attempt to create a new Caleb to comfort him not only rejected him, but actively despises him now. No fucking wonder he’s gone even more batshit insane.

I don’t know where the story is gonna go from here. Philip is still obviously trying to carry out his genocide, and Hunter is on the fucking war path now, so I have zero doubt that there’s going to be some sort of clash between those two. Hunter now also presumably has access to Flapjack’s memories, so him gaining memories of Caleb is also not out of the question.

Either way, Philip’s just gonna become Even More Not Normal about his brother, and I for one cannot wait.

#the owl house #toh belos #toh philip #toh caleb #caleb wittebane #philip wittebane #the google doc for this was called 'wittebrainrot'#it also took me multiple days to type up for some reason so if it feels like the tone is weird thats probably why #anyway i wanna study belos under a microscope

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jupitermaidalinejoy · 6 months

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Never Happy

Wednesday tries to sit in class carelessly, but she just couldn't. Today was one of those days where everything felt like a punch, in her ears, in her side, on her temple.

All it took was the scratch of a pencil to set her off, for the class to be chatting to get to her. The laughing of the one guy in the corner of the class, how it reverberated to her, though her desk.

Her foot was bounding up and down, muscles buzzing, fingers twisting together. Each second made it harder and harder to keep her emotionless mask on. She wanted to let go. She couldn't, not here.

The braids on her head felt too tight. The beating of her own cold and black heart in her practically caving in chest was too loud of a disruption. Never less the goings on of the other twenty seven students in botany all around her.

A sadistic concept, putting a life's worth of hormonal teenagers in a building together and expecting everything to end up fine. She used to relish in the thought of whoever thought up the idea of public school. But in Nevermore, it was worse. These hormonal teenagers had an edge, they were all freaks. The private school complex they all had in their rotten brains made them entitled.

Wednesday couldn't take it. The ever-so-faint sound of Yoko sipping her blood bag behind her. The barely audible tapping of Thing scuttling from behind one poisonous plant to behind another. The graphite-on-card stock slice of Xavier's drawing beside her. The piercing nasal echo of Mrs. Thornhill's voice ringing out through the greenhouse, not to mention the sickening crack of her heal against the floor of the classroom.

No, the raven-haired girl could barely take it. The depth of her observational skills only dug away at her everlasting hatred of sensations when she was close to her breaking point. She used to think she didn't have one, or that it only resulted in mild frustration or torturous methods inflicted on others. But recently she had discovered that, unless she was stepping on eggshells, she could set herself off, and ruin her worldly image of herself, and the Wednesday Addams to everyone at this insipid school. It would most definitely make it's way to Principle Weems, causing it to make it's way to her parents. Weems had kept an extra close eye on her after what happened with Tyler after last semester.

She couldn't take the shift of Bianca's uniform as she repeatedly raised her hand, hearing the scratchy material rub against it's self as her arm elongated before returning to her side as she answered the question, her voice cutting away at Wednesday's proverbial last straw. She couldn't handle the feeling of the fibers of her own black-striped uniform on her hyper-sensitive skin cascading together in a suicidal rhythm over her entire body, making her want to claw her external organ off in strips, only to haphazardly glue back on later.

Earlier in the week, three days ago to be exact, she had been assaulted with a flashback from Crackstone's Crypt. Wednesday knew that sooner or later, the faulty barricades of her fragile, trauma-prone brain, just like everyone else's, would come back and haunt her, the incident not disturbing enough to be blocked out, but still worrisome enough to cause her mental distress later on.

But she expected it to be of the fight, her getting stabbed, or hanging by shackles, or Crackstone rising. But the flashback took her right back to her one and only date with Tyler. The candles and the blanket and the rose petals and the projection of the truly horrifying movie and the Galpin boy turned monster himself. She couldn't shake the feeling oh him next to her, his breath hot on her cheeks before they were interrupted, his smile.

His claws digging into Enid as she fought for her that night.

How Wednesday remained so fucking guilty for fighting with Enid, for letting her fight the Hyde in her honor, for letting Tyler trip her warning alarm and still moving on in the pursuit of secret happiness. She never found it with him. She had yet to find it at all. Maybe she should end up alone, undeserving of anyone or anything else. Alone and forgotten and rightfully unhappy.

And now there was the shriek of chalk on a chalkboard and the heels against the ground and her uniform on her skin and Bianca's arm up and down and Xavier's drawing and Yoko's sipping on blood and Thing's scuttling and the laughter reverberating-

A tear stung her eye. And then another. And another.

Before she could make a fool of herself, she collected her backpack and ran out of the class, cheeks wet and eyes streaming, practically sprinting to the dorm. She heard someone call her name behind her and steps following suit but she ignored whoever they were's advances, bounding up the stairs and taking refuge in her dorm room.

No less than a minute later as Wednesday was desperately trying not to have a meltdown and failing horribly did someone enter her room. It was Enid, and she looked worried. Confused. Empathetic. The smaller girl almost jumped out of her skin, face heating and legs scrambling out from under her and trying to get away, but there was nowhere to go.

"Hey, hey, It's okay"

Enid says slowly, locking the dorm door behind her softly. Wednesday obviously wasn't herself in this moment, or really at all since the incident last semester, and she couldn't resist the comforting tone in her roommate's voice, lulling her towards the compelling girl in front of her. She craved comfort and praise and recognition and everything she was usually so averted to.

"I-, uh, I-" She tries, but her throat is against her. Enid cuts her off.

"Shh, shh, you're okay. Take a deep breath, just tell me what's wrong. Can I step closer?" She nods, hurriedly breathing. It's like she couldn't get any air, and when she tried, the tears only got thicker and rained down in more of a downpour than a drizzle like they had started out.

"It w-was all too muh-uch. Noise and f-feelings" Her roommate nods understandingly, taking another small step closer, noiselessly.

"Okay, okay, look up at me. W-" Before she can finish her sentence, a boom of thunder resonates from outside, the clouds beginning to muddle gray and grow heavy with precipitation. That's how Wednesday felt at this moment, even as she wholeheartedly jumped at the sound of the storm, dark and growing heavy, too much filled up inside of her.

"-What would make you feel better right now?" She thought for a moment before remembering the insisent itching of her uniform on her skin. She tugs at her sleeve to portray her distress. Right now, she just tried to forget all the repercussions of this moment, of all the regret she'd have later. Of how she would newly perceive herself. She just wanted this moment to play out, comfort and acceptance.

"Maybe a bath? Would that help, getting your uniform off?" Wednesday nods. "okay, is it okay if I hug you?" to her surprise, she skyrockets into Enid's open arms, burying her face in the cool fabric of Enid's vest. It was softer than hers, significantly so.

The colorful girl began lightly rubbing her back, whispering things in her ear. Not long after the hug had started, the goth gave in, and began to sob, letting all the storm inside her out. But every time she thought the war had ended, it began again. Her fists were balled in her roommate's shirt, and they only gripped harder when she felt a ghost of a kiss being pressed into her forehead, alone with soothing words and the subtle pressure of the embrace. Goosebumps prickled her skin.

"C'mon, lets get you to the bath" She feels herself being led into the bathroom, and eventually the tap switches on, water pooling into the tub. Enid adds some of her bath salts into it, making it smell like her. Wednesday was trembling and sobbing and had no idea what she was even doing to herself. "Willa, look at me" she says, trying to tilt her head up off of her chest. She wouldn't budge. "It's okay, look at me, shh shh" The dark haired girl finally allows her face to meet her roommates, all watery and tear-stained.

"Ready to get in, hmm?" The colorful girl asks her, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. She nods shakily, and halts her tears as much as she's able to. "Let's take out your hair" she says, taking one of her braids between her fingers and unraveling it, doing the same to the second one. Her headache dulled a bit by her hair being set free.

"Is it okay if I help you get undressed?" Wednesday knew that all Enid wanted to do was help, and she trusted her, and only her. So she nodded.

She carefully helped her pull her arms from her fest, her blazer and blouse following right after. Her eyes never lingered on a certain part of the girls body, thankfully. Even she got self conscious. Once she was completely stripped, she slowly sunk into the lovely-smelling, warm bathwater, allowing the world to sink away.

Her roommate washed her hair and helped her dry off and redress. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. Her brain was spinning in circles in a pool of grease, slowly frying away. By the time she made it into bed, she was back in Enid's arms, sobbing again. She had no idea why she still couldn't stop herself fro breaking down, but she let it happen.

"Let it all out, baby" She would say while rubbing her back, or she'd kiss her forehead and tell her, "You're okay, I know how bad it hurts".

It hurt so fucking bad, but it was numbed when she had someone to hold her through it.

idk what this is but I hope you like it. this will be up on my ao3 account, but im still waiting to get an invite so i'll let you know when thats up. okay love you guys, bye!!

#pretend that mrs thronhill came back to neverore for some reason i just need her to be a trigger but for ep 8 to still have happend go w it #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wenclair #wednesday x enid #random oneshot #hurt comfort #traumatized wednesday #wenclair overload

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queer-ragnelle · 5 days

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random question! do you have any recommendations for any Arthurian/knight related horror/vaguely spooky movies?

(i apologize if you have a post like this already, tumblr's lack of functional search engine is really something)

Hello!

The only Arthurian movie with horror elements throughout would be The Green Knight (2021). From the outset the entire film is shot very dark, the score is eerie and haunting, the color scheme of green life/rot and red blood plays into the horror as well. There's the obvious violence of the beheading of the Green Knight, but even before that, Morgan's spell and the possession of Guinevere to read the Green Knight's letter are pretty scary! One of my favorite scenes in the whole film. Later, Gawain is captured by scavenger bandits and left for dead, he meets a dead woman and retrieves her severed head, and immediately following his consumption of some mushrooms, he hallucinates moss growing on his hands, and then everything from that moment onward gets a little freaky for him. ;^)))))

Next best example would be Excalibur (1981), specifically the Grail Quest portion. It's a solid 20 minutes of non-stop psychological (and occasionally physical) torture. Arthur is the Fisher King here and rotting away, along with his land and people. Percival and all the knights venture out for what appears to be close to 20 years, as Mordred grows to manhood during this time. Percival is slowly debilitated from cold and hunger, assaulted by angry townspeople, psychologically tortured by Morgan with visions of his dead comrades, hung from a tree and left for dead, and even cosmically harassed by a glowing entity bombarding him with questions. There's also one scene in which Lancelot has a nightmare in which he fights his own suit of armor ("himself") which ends with a self-inflicted injury that never heals for the duration of the film, an allegory for his shame. Insanely good stuff.

After that I would suggest Starz Camelot (2011), which is a show. This has aspects of it I would definitely consider horror or at the least spooky. Morgan's storyline especially as she tries to gather magical power to herself and incurs the wrath of some demons. Morgan is also able to shape shift into other people and it's shot like a grotesque and painful experience which results in blood seeping from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Likewise Merlin deals with these same setbacks while using magic and is haunted by the people he's killed which drives him to madness at one point. Stepping away from the supernatural, the deaths in this show are especially gruesome, somewhat like Excalibur as well, but more of them with the longer run time. There's a scene with a character drawing themselves along a spear to finish their opponent (like Mordred at Camlann), beheadings, even a torture scene with a guy impaled on a stake and unable to flee while [redacted] continues to wound him in non-lethal ways to draw information out of him. So a lot to work with here!

The only other option I can think of is a bit of a stretch, but that's Merlin and The Sword (1985). The Knight of the Cart is adapted here, except that Guinevere is taken to the other world which can only be entered by magical means. Lancelot and Gawain venture there to try and rescue her and come across many corpses and skeletons along the way, which they joke about (they're so normal) but ultimately split up and deal with trials along the way. It has an element of unreality to it, as no one is said to return from there, and the fay rules challenge their every move. Lancelot also brutally murders people along the way including choking a guy with the bar of a spear, lifting his feet off the ground while holding the man to his chest. It's overall pretty camp, but if hopeless quests into other worlds is your thing, that movie has it in spades.

Tragically, that's all I got for you. We need more Arthurian horror! Thanks for the ask, I hope this helps.

#arthurian legend #arthurian legends #arthurian mythology #arthuriana #the green knight #tgk #excalibur #starz camelot #merlin and the sword #horror #ask #mushroomslovesyou

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hereforthefanficsandromance · 5 months

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The Way He Looks at You Series II:III

Act II: The Way You Look at Him Chapter 3: The Way You Don't Belong to Him

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

Dark thoughts plague the man who still loves you.

TW: torture (electricity)

Rating: 18+ Words: 1.4K

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I wake groggy, taking in my dismal surroundings. My brain rejecting the situational reality. I shift on the hard metal surface to relieve my aching shoulders.

My thoughts drift to my future family, wishing for their safety. During the lengthy hours without severe suffering, I attempt to reconcile with the painful mistakes of my past. Deeply regretting the stupid decision that led here, that sabotaged my happiness.

I allowed the structured ways of the past to dictate my future. My fear of the Dark Side led me directly to it. I try to resist its seductive call, but each day I feel the light dim, leaving behind murky darkness.

Giving myself willingly over is required, an impossible requirement I resist each grueling day. Choosing light and peace feels less obvious with each torturous minute.I ignore the growing rage in my belly. The metal door swings open, revealing my captor, a sickening smile plastered on his green skinned face.

“You look well rested.” He mocks, sitting behind me, making me paranoid.

I resist squirming during the long passing silence, instead bracing for inevitable pain. It doesn’t come.

“What did you dream about? Brother.”

I tense, refusing an answer and knowing excruciating punishment awaits. Fearsome purge troopers enter the freezing room, carrying crackling electrobatons. The usual three approach while engaged in lively conversation, ignoring their unpleasant purpose, to my relief.

“I asked you a question, Brother.” Fifth Brother speaks again, threats dripping from his innocent words.

The purge troopers cease speaking, brandishing their deadly weapons, awaiting my reply. I clench my teeth together. One outcome awaits. The first trooper presses his electrified baton forward, contacting my bare torso.

An animalistic scream rips through my parched throat, echoing against the sturdy concrete walls. The pain stops, but the aftereffects leave my abused body twitching. I’m sickened that the heat of the electrobaton soothes my freezing exposed skin. That I find temporary relief in my suffering.

As the buzzing wears off, the second trooper jabs his weapon forward, making contact. Every muscle tenses and my head whips back, my rigid body shakes from the high voltage. I gasp, desperate for air, but pain shoots through my nerves as the third trooper lunges forward, a sadistic laugh cutting the air.

Fifth Brother is patient, allowing each to indulge in inflicting pain on my tired form. Once sated, they stand back, awaiting the next round of questions that I will resist against my self preservation.

“I quite enjoy watching you suffer. However, I have news that will wait until you answer my question.”

I lick my chapped lips, weighing the presented options. The troopers hold position while I stare at the stained concrete floor.

“What news?” I ask, knowing I sealed my fate.

The purge troopers leap forward together, an electrobaton contacting my chest and each thigh. I hear someone else screaming, my brain exiting my body, pulling me far from the extreme suffering.

The pain stops and I barely hear the question that follows.

“What did you dream about?”

“I didn’t dream.” I say.

“Think harder Brother, you did dream.”

I scrunch my teary eyes closed, trying hard to remember. The faded memory won’t show, blocked by my subconscious desire to remain true to the light side.

White hot pain shoots through my fatigued muscles, my teeth pressed hard against one another. Some dark entity claws from the depths of my weakening mind, something power hungry. Pain overwhelms my resistance as electricity surges, drawing forth the hate. Memories of life draining from their eyes, my powerful fist clenched tight.

The pain stops, my breath left shallow and ragged. The loud silence feels worse than the torture, the calm before the storm. A controllable storm I can end through willing submission.

“Perhaps you will share the news of your kin tomorrow.”

Worry flickers in my eyes, betraying my earnest refusal. Fifth Brother catches the expression as he circles the soiled interrogation chair.

“This intrigues you?”

A single nod, determining my fate.

“Last chance Brother.”

My parted lips suck in chilled air. “I was killing the purge troopers.”

“How?”

“The Force.” A beat of silence. “I strangled them before they could hurt me.”

“What emotions did you feel?”

“Fear, rage, hate.” I admit, knowing I am fighting a losing battle.

Fifth Brother shows his white teeth, a fearsome attempt at grinning. He waves the purge troopers away, leaning against a nearby steel table. I hold my breath, knowing that Fifth Brother is a greater threat than high voltage weaponry.

“Excellent, you are learning quickly. You will walk alongside your fellow brothers and sisters soon. The woman you foolishly impregnated has finally risen from her hospital bed. Thirteenth has surely collected her, though you have more claim to her than he. After all, it is your child she carries.”

Anger flows through my veins at his name, knowing he poisons her against me. Images of the night with her flashes before my eyes, pulling me briefly to safety. My brain allows the intimate scene to replay without guilt gnawing at my insides.

Sparks tingle along my skin as her rear brushed the front of my trousers in the small kitchen. My eyes scanning her ample cleavage while I shared a story over dinner. The subject of the story lost to time, but her dilated pupils etched into my mind.

I spent countless nights rocking myself into my hand. Silently calling out her name into the darkened bedroom, wanting to hear her call mine. Desires to taste her, run my hands over her smooth skin, feel her clench around me.

The blissful evening overwhelmed me and I moved too quickly, forgot to savor the exquisite gift she provided. I forgot to care for her pleasure, despite imaging it nearly every night. Regrettably, I severely hurt her the following morning, as my selfishness did not stop.

Plagued by guilt and nightmares; nightly dreams of my old Master, lecturing on the danger of attachments. The difficult nightmares haunted me from the moment she became my girlfriend. Lustful thoughts led to vivid memories while I restlessly slept. I pulled away when the dreams were worse, unable to explain my unpredictable hesitation. She was kinder than I deserve, never asking for answers, and providing endless understanding.

The pursuit of light led to suffering despite the promise of the opposite. I hadn’t completed my training, lessons surely lost with the fall of the Jedi Order. Perhaps living between worlds was my downfall; never fully giving myself to love or the Jedi teachings, choosing to live halfway between both.

I loved her, but feared the repercussions of my Master at night. I still love her, but could not face those feelings, even in finding out I had fathered the child inside her belly. Still never fully committing to her, instead of loving her and the potential of family, I treated her as another duty.

“Once you have accepted your new title, you may stake your claim, though it would be wise to rebuild your strength before facing Thirteenth. I will help train you to take back what is truly yours. The only way is through the power and strength granted to us through darkness.”

Negative emotions overwhelm me, but I keep my hollow face determined. I could not love her when striving for light. The Dark Side provides an escape from the guilt of the old ways, a chance at redemption and the guidance needed to be the man I must for my new family.

Never will she know an unsatisfactory night. Her pleasure will always come before my own. Our relationship has become my priority, constantly on my mind between the darkening thoughts of my new dreams. I will have her again.

“Thirteenth doesn’t share his toys, but he is much weaker than before. Love blinds our Brother, his distracted state provides an opportunity for your success. But you are not yet ready. You cannot achieve what you desire when you are still weak. Accept the everlasting power of the Dark Side and take back what is rightfully yours.”

I gawk, coming back to myself, remembering the knowledge that forceful measures will not secure my desires. I shake my head, rejecting Fifth Brother’s sinister words.

“You agree that more suffering is required to unlock your true potential. You have shown promising progress on becoming the Fourteenth Brother.”

Fifth Brother exits the room, leaving the purge troopers in his place. I grit my teeth for the next round, each painful moment bringing me closer to her.

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Need to Rant with Others Who Have Read This Story?

Join My Discord It's free! Members get updates, sneak peaks, bonus content, events, and countdowns to new chapters. We'd love to have you, even if you just lurk!

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Next Chapter: The Way You Dress Him

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hopefull-mindset · 3 months

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Hello this is my main for @/dazai-on-my-mind I was going through your abuse post (have yet to finish it so forgive me if you've discussed this already) what are your theories for what lies under Dazai's bandages? The main fan theories that I've seen so far is that they're either covering self inflicted injuries or Mori experimented on Dazai at times during his Port Mafia days but again coming from your abuse post this theory seems highly unlikely. So I was wondering if you had any thoughts about that.

Hello! Sorry this took a bit. I saw your other ask, so I'll try to get to that. It's absolutely fine you haven't finished it. I'm personally surprised at how long it is myself. I actually haven't talked about what is under Dazai’s bandages, so sure! I also have some brief thoughts on the bandages itself.

(Edit: that was not brief, it turns out I had a lot of thoughts)

It's an average topic with this fandom, so I don't know how much I can add really!

We do know he has scars from what Oda said in Dark Era:

And we also get this tidbit from Harukawa talking about designing Dazai:

The special thing about this series was that apart from the settings from Asagiri, the characters probably should have certain aspects of the authors they were based on, but I tried to draw them based on the character settings first when doing up the initial drafts. […] For Dazai, I wrapped him up in bandages because of his suicide mania, and took note with other items.

—Harukawa35, Behind The Scenes of The Character Design!

Of course, the intent behind what the bandages are and what is behind them can change over time when they get to know their own characters better! They look like they're implying two different things, but I'd argue it's the exact same thing, even if they come from different places.

Out of all the assumptions, what's under there is probably scars he gained while throwing his life away in the face of danger, even when he doesn't need to. It's no different than the average suicide attempt by him. I wonder if he has a scar from the Old Boss’s scythe, that'd be sick. This is what sounds most likely to me, but I’ll entertain other ideas for the sake of it being too short of a note to end on.

You can obviously tell I don’t dig the idea of Mori committing medical malpractice. Not only is that an insane idea to come by, how does he even benefit from that thought process? The only type of stuff happening is Mori forcing him to take his vaccinations and taking drugs Dazai got from his medicine cabinet out of his young hands. I also think people think this way because of what he said about Mori telling him the shots won't hurt in The Day I Picked Up Dazai Side A.

A doctor is telling a child his shots won't hurt… ??? Sounds pretty normal.

I know people won't like it when I say this, but that was typical teenage Dazai childishness. He does genuinely not like pain of course, so it could be that he's overexaggerating because that's what it felt like to him haha. That scene is meant to be comedic, so this sentiment shouldn't be that serious in context. It's not like this is idk Black Butler.

I remember in Side B that Dazai says pain is what reminds you that you're alive. Maybe that's why he doesn't like it, even if he was a torture specialist. To understand death, you have to understand what it is to be alive because life is both of those things. Dazai prefers the state of being dead rather than the process, but also thinks the attempt is easier than actually committing. Dear god, your commitment issues don't need to go this far.

As for self-harm, it's pretty 50/50 with enough arguments on both sides to make a case. Dazai doesn’t like pain, but people don't usually do it because they like the feeling of the pain itself. They could do it to punish themselves, the feeling of it afterward, etc. I think Dazai putting himself in those situations like I mentioned earlier counts enough as self-harm (you can even count his implicit drinking habits too if you'd like), but this specifically on what I know you mean just depends on whether you think Dazai would do so.

I can't imagine it from Dazai, but if people think so, there's nothing stopping them from it. There's nothing implying he wouldn't, suicidal people don't always resort to this. I’m personally just tired of people using it for their whump narratives, in all fandoms actually.

I don’t care much for it if that’s what they’d like to do because I understand, but it’s not something I like being depicted in weirdly graphic detail for no reason other than the character to suffer. Besides that, there no harm in it. I don’t want to get all “you shouldn’t write this stuff because I said so”, that’s stupid.

(-150 points if it’s for white knighting ship content)

Now I hope you don’t mind me rambling off a bit! It’s been on my mind since last week to talk about the bandages.

Symbolically, the bandages can mean a couple things. All very similar things haha. It’s like what Chuuya’s gloves are to him and how personal it is to take them off outside of Corruption, or how he said he used to put his hands in his pockets because he wanted to protect his humanity while fighting.

Core things they can mean are:

A thin barrier to separate and hide himself from others (including from himself)

To minimize skin contact from his ability aka himself (not as literal as it sounds)

Abilities in Bungou Stray Dogs are apart of the user. No matter if you move your ability on to your child (Kyouka and her Mother), have it be mutilated into something unrecognizable (Verlaine, Chuuya), or to naturally be imbedded into you, you cannot separate it from your humanity. It’s still you, as Atsushi had to eventually accept this fact.

You can say a lot about the nature of abilities and 55 Minutes made some worrying discussion points about Abilities that I wish were touched on more by others, but let’s go with first thought process because it’s the one Asagiri let’s us off easy with.

No Longer Human, as Asagiri told us, is based off of the feeling he got when reading Dazai Osamu’s writing. Functionally, his ability is a bit horrifying to me as something born from himself. Maybe I just overreact, but when you translate what his ability mean functionally against every ability user we know, you can come up with interesting conclusions.

It’s not like how Atsushi can cut through abilities as a Tiger as I’m sure that was meant to imply something about his psychological breakthrough and combating other’s soul born abilities with his own. Dazai just straight up takes away other’s abilities. As long as he’s touching you, you have become a victim to his soul’s vacuum of searching for humanity or lack there of.

That’s not to say others who don’t have abilities aren’t human, I think the difference is that ability users are forced to put a part of their humanity up for show and scrutiny, which makes them appear inhuman to the average human being. Dazai is as paradoxical as his own ability. He’s functionally the average human being, but he also lacks something… human when you put him up against another ability user.

Sorta this middle ground in what to think and how he also tends to be. When I read No Longer Human, it popped out to me too often that Yozo Oba was incredibly human while putting himself in this position of inhumanity.

When Dazai’s ability is in effect, he takes away a piece of your humanity, making your less than who you were before. So when Dazai covers skin with his bandages, he’s covering up the metaphorical cavity that is his ability and inhumanity. When the bandages starts going everything when he’s using his ability, he’s swallowing that piece whole and embracing you falling to his level.

Am I overanalyzing a stylistic choice that usually only appears in official art? Yes, but it’s fun.

You can tell I skipped the first one, but that’s because it has to do with an example that’s been the reason I keep thinking about this and it sounded more fun to talk about. In the Onsen CD Drama, there’s two scenes I want to put emphasis one.

The first one being when Dazai says that they’re all getting closer because of them being in the hot spring, but Kunikida calls out the fact he’s still wearing his bandages. I could’ve passed it off as being not that significant because it’s a joke scene if it weren’t for the next one.

Atsushi wanted to wash Dazai’s back since Kunikida had been occupied and he wanted to help them like they did for him, but Dazai had already walked away. Later when they’re still awake while the others had slept, Atsushi tries again and actually gets the opportunity to do it. Only problem, Dazai still has his bandages on. Dazai just tells him it’s okay and to scrub anyway.

This made me feel… how do I say this… speechless? Not because Dazai was entirely insistent on them being apart of his body like the troll he is, but because of the simultaneous intimacy of the act and abruption of it with the bandages. You can pass it off as a running joke, but we both know Dazai absolutely heard Atsushi thank him and avoided that confrontation by playing it off as being sleepy.

I’ve said this a couple times to people I’ve talked to before, but Dazai is the type of guy who you would talk to every day, invite you everywhere, and always go out with a lot of people, but if you were to be asked what you personally know about him, you’d be able to say nothing but surface level stuff everyone knows.

With anyone and everyone, there’s always this level of personal separation between them and Dazai, and they know it. Even if you are closer to him like Oda and Chuuya are and Dazai had willing shared stuff usually wouldn’t (mind you, it took Mimic for Dazai to share more about himself to Oda and Ango), he doesn’t let himself be that vulnerable or let himself go.

I’m arguing that the bandage are a more literal barrier between him and the world. Either to protect himself or to protect others from what they’ll realize about him. He hides himself because of what he is…or something like that at least, I don’t know what goes though his head. Im still trying to figure out his perception on things thoroughly and if he really cares about it.

The eye bandage has been talked to death by now. Yes yes, Dazai left his eye covered for depth perception in the dark and Oda uncovering it for him to see the light as well. We all know it. Still, I think it’s quite meaningful that when he’s finally having an heart-to-heart with Odasaku, he’s the one to open up that bandage. It doesn’t fix everything, but he’s been opened up to that possibility.

For Beast, Dazai having a bandage on the other eye can be seen as a misguided attempt of seeing everything with Oda in mind by seeing it all in the eye he uncovered, but still needing to cover the other to guide himself in the dark. He’s also a mirror image of the original Dazai if you’d like to see it like that.

In Side B, Dazai covers his whole face up. Ironically, while I called the bandages on his body a cover up for his inhumanity, the face bandages cover up his emotions, suppressant of himself. Dazai is not typically that emotional, but Side B Dazai is going through a lot when it comes to Odasaku… so while he’s covering his face to hide it from Oda, he is also hiding the overwhelming feelings he has.

In the ending of Side B where he takes off the dirty bandages, he’s so wracked with emotion he almost fails himself in his plans, and presumably forces himself to cover up his one eye again. When he falls to his death in the ending of Beast, bandages fall when he’s able to let himself go.

In the manga, Hoshikawa was evil and drew the bandages falling into Oda’s hands. Let’s say… they’re a symbol of his protect of Oda and remembrance of the scene where Oda pulls them off. You can even say they where still taken off with Oda’s influence!

OKAY ENOUGH, I’m talking you ears off. It seems I like the sound of my own voice and wanted to share as much as I could.

#/ discussion of self harm #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #bsd meta #bsd analysis #bsd beast #me writing this post: Dazai’s bandages mean *throws dart* …..*squints* the protection of his own disappointment against the face of the #world’s predictability and in turn being…?#okay let’s start over.. *picks up another dart*

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frostbitebakery · 9 months

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I got tagged by @anstarwar and @cacodaemonia to do a moodboard on myself? Luckily for you, I refuse to go to that level of self-reflection.

So here are the bullet points: I like cackling, drawing, coffee, hiking with my dog who I also like, rain, and more coffee. I have a hate based relationship with writing but I do it enough to at least mention it.

Super special extra mention:

As @slutaciouslestat pointed out, salty cheese represents the whole of my personality.

Now who do I inflict this kind of torture on…

@slutaciouslestat who needs to regret helping me with this, @adiduck who laughed at me when I told her my woes concerning moodboards, @elwenyere just to keep her on her toes (also hoping for garden pics), @phantom-of-the-keurig (hoping for mango pics), @meantforinfinitesadness (bc I know Ghost will appear somewhere in there), @lttrsfrmlnrrgby (lesbian grandpa sweater prayer circle)

#moodboard me

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iridescentscarecrow · 2 months

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really only posting this for myself on here but (link click season 2 spoilers, vague csm part one references):

i think what draws me to li tianchen is that she's fundamentally a reze looking for her protagonist. i'm thinking about how she defines the game, the trust she attempts to build with cxs. the fucking intonations: "you too" when she's talking about her powers, "isnt he your most important friend" during That scene underground. because she's also... commenting on herself in a fashion. i think so much about the scene where she controls cxs's body in order to promise her that he'll never betray her. because this blurring of self is so intrinsic to how she conducts herself.

but ltc also has Family Horror (esp re: qian jin's reiteration of her father) coded into her. made for me a blorbie. she's also very denji coded in the Parenthood fashion but inverted because she claims that agency (rezecore). she doesn't insert into people and empathise/project towards/into their realities like tianxi or cxs do; she doesn't remark on the qian jin (deliberate) reiteration despite being fully aware of the truth about his wife from the very start. her blurring of self is reflected inward, she's insulated from her circumstances normally. i think everyday of the interrogation scene, how her pretending To Be her sister is also in part her Claiming the empathy ltx feels as her own (but also a lens [the only lens] that tells that she is in fact aware of the horror inflicted onto ltx) Unlike the fairytale where her whimpers are ignored...

like she Centers herself around ltx in every flashback during the scene, as she pretends to be her. remember the dead birds from the fairytale? the ones tianxi doesn't eat? ltc sharing her food with tianxi in the photo while her parents chide her to eat fully instead. them older in the car, her saying 'it's time for dinner' before putting ltx to sleep and killing through her. the sharing of food, simultaneously identity... it's more than a little transgender too if you think about it.

the "save my good brother" handed to lg (tianxi's photograph. she's again assuming her identity!) in a process of self erasure (why are *we* in this hell? but she's personified herself in a way that Suits hell!) the fucking blurring identities. the suicide metaphor with the possession comes back here too. the falling (the first death on the roof, the intro, all of her murders fundamentally acts of suicide, in the end the giving of the photo too in order to kill her Self.)

and Touch. the qian jin liu xiao thing with the gloves and absence of gloves/her power activating through touch, the way she touches cxs & makes him the centerpiece of her play (despite cxs paralleling ltx) alongside the torture of her Real Mirror (lg being ltc's parallel)...

shes such a freak (cradles her lovingly).

#link click meta #li tianchen #[redacted]posting #crow.txt #for my 2 link click oomfs who also like csm :3 #sgdlr #shiguang daili ren

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sadcatjae · 1 year

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The Demon & The Priest - Part 3 - Rest

Other parts can be found in the masterlist

~~~

AHHHHH I'm sorry it took so long!! But here's part 3 ;A;

~~~

CW: Explicit language, explicit self-harm, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, mentions of torture, mentions of non-con.

When he comes to, he finds himself restrained in a pair of strong arms. His muscles twitch and ache, and there’s a dampness on his cheeks that he doesn’t quite understand. A pathetic noise, something like a whimper, fills his ears, and it takes him a moment to realise that he’s the one making it.

The next thing he’s aware of is another voice, this one comforting and soft, murmuring meaningless words into his ear. “--you are safe. Hush now, Lial. It is over with. Calm yourself. You are safe.”

The demon shudders as the last of his fit leaves him, and his abused muscles finally relax. He goes limp in Julian’s arms, eyes fluttering close in sheer exhaustion.

A warm palm rests upon his forehead, and the heat sinks deep into his flesh.

“...I assume it didn’t work,” Lial croaks, twitching with the aftershocks.

“You assume correctly.”

The warmth disappears and he opens his eyes in quiet dismay. Above, Julian gazes down at him through hooded eyes, expression stony.

“That was beyond foolish, demon.”

“I’m an opportunist,” Lial says wryly, though his quip strikes like a brittle leaf.

With great effort, the exhausted demon drags himself upright. The priest slides out from behind, allowing him to rest against the bed.

“What now, priest? Your magic evidently has no effect and truly, that was my last gasp. If your light should fail me, then I–” Lial swallows the rest of his words, dread blooming in his gut like poison. His weary eyes flutter shut once more as he rides the cresting waves of pain - both corporeal and soul-deep.

“You will cease your pathetic self-pity,” Julian snaps, straightening up and patting dust from his pristine robes. He shoots the demon a razor-sharp glare, as though the latter had uttered the worst of blasphemies. “We have yet to exhaust all possibilities. This is but a minor failure - and I assure you, there will be many considering the nature of your affliction. You have come to me for salvation and I shall seek a method to do so. Grieve not what has yet to pass, for the fight is yet to begin.”

But Lial is exhausted. He’s exhausted and despairing and in the kind of pain that pretty words can’t soothe. For this infernal is facing the prospect of his mortality - something that had always been a shallow threat or an idle romantic thought. Ashaxi has not shied from promising his favourite plaything a true death, one of the body and soul. The kind that can keep an infernal in the ground. And Lial had thought of accepting such an offer more than once - while in the deepest throes of torture that seemed to have no end.

This time, however, his death looms. It’s not a mere threat or a thought, but an inevitability that shrouds his periphery like an oncoming storm. And as his mind goes, from sleep, from fear, and as the curse breaks down his flesh, death draws ever closer.

How long does he have? A week? A month?

This is Ashaxi’s favourite kind of torment. Slow and unknowable.

Lial clasps his hands together. His claws dig into his knuckles and thin rivulets of black stain his forearms. “Ten months, eleven months, almost a year,” he says in a monotone. “An entire year since I've been allowed to rest.” He glances at the impassive priest. There’s vulnerability in that raw look, like he’s been stripped down to the nerve. “You say that the fight is yet to begin, but my fight is near its end.”

“You cannot know the end. Not unless you seek it.” Julian huffs sharply through his nose, producing a handkerchief and flapping at those digging claws. “You have allowed me only one night of effort before accepting defeat. If you are to die, then die fighting. Claw not at yourself, but at the one who would inflict this suffering upon you.” He growls the last, an unfathomable anger building within like trapped lava. The damned infernal. Darkness take Ashaxi and his unholy ilk!

Julian grabs Lial’s arm and yanks him onto the bed. Face to face they are once again, and he takes those ink-streaked arms into his hands - not to embark on yet another foolish quest, but to clean the demon’s limbs of his blood.

With uncharacteristic softness, he wipes at Lial’s skin and his wounds, and the white handkerchief becomes soaked in black. There’s a delicate care in the priest’s ministrations, a kind of care that is so foreign to Lial. Every gentle touch has him internally quaking, and instinct tells him to pull away, stop this strange sensation - but Lial has no strength. So he sits quietly. Obediently. And watches in silence.

At one point, the demon whispers, “I’m tired.”

And the priest growls, “I know.”

“I’m going to die,” Lial exhales.

“You will not.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I will not allow it.”

“Stubborn bastard.”

“Which is the kind of bastard you need.”

To which, Lial has no response.

Julian dabs the last of the blood from the already closed wounds on Lial’s knuckles. It’s fascinating - and enviable - at how quickly infernal heal. Then again, they feel pain the same as humans, and their physical invulnerability leads to careless disregard for their mental and emotional vulnerabilities. Mad and broken infernals are the leading cause of their dissent and antagonism as a race. Because of this, even one as obstinate as Julian is able to find a sliver of sympathy for the little devils.

“Refrain from mutilating yourself further, demon. I have but one other handkerchief I can soil.”

Lial sways, eyes grown heavy. “I have to stay awake,” he mutters. “I don’t want to…hurt anymore.” He slips his claws over his arms again to pierce – but Julian grabs his hands to keep them confined.

“I shall keep you awake,” the priest says, grimly. “Lower your claws. Save them for Ashaxi.”

The demon smiles weakly and a fang peeks out the corner of his mouth. “What chance do I have against a power to rival an Elder of the Light?” Lial says, echoing the priest’s words.

“A very good chance, if said Elder of the Light stands with you.”

Lial knows that what the priest said was significant, but he’s too hazy to fully grasp Julian’s meaning. His eyes slide close. The brume of sleep pads his mind; scours the edges of reality down to a blunt. He feels himself go slack and fall sideways–

And a hard shake jolts him awake.

“Keep your eyes open, Lial,” Julian says, sharply. “It is terrible etiquette to fall asleep during a conversation.”

“You and your fucking etiquette,” Lial grouses, but he opens his eyes all the same.

Julian’s tense expression relaxes a tad. He keeps a firm grip on the demon’s arms, keeping him upright. “Tell me more about your Lord. What transpired between you?”

“I told you–”

“Yes, and I am not a fool. Your coveting Ashaxi’s throne is a clear fabrication and I do not tolerate dishonesty well.”

The demon exhales tremulously. His hand wanders to his lower belly, where ghostly sensations tug at him from deep within. Cold sweat beads his wrinkled brow.

“Lial?” A warm palm cups his cheek. “Lial, you mustn’t sleep.”

“No, I’m not. I–” The demon absently leans into the heat, a glimmer of red peeking through the thick fans of white lashes. “Ashaxi favoured me. Truly.”

Julian’s intense gaze pours over the demon’s drawn features. He presses his lips into a tight line and sweeps his thumb across Lial’s cheek. Cold. Much too cold. “Am I correct in assuming that his favour is an undesirable notion?”

“I wet his appetite in a way none else could.” Clawed fingers trail across his belly. There’s his voice murmuring in his ear, darkly lascivious and vile.

A light tremble seizes the demon’s body, and with it a growing chill. It’s as if Ashaxi is here now: frigid breath puffed against his nape; elongated claws carving signs across his spine; his towering, muscular form crushing against his own, so much so that he can only release airless screams; and his voice, his voice–

Julian promptly rises from the chair and sits behind the shivering demon, pulling him into his arms. His outer robe is shed to place over Lial, trapping what little heat he’s able to generate. “Your temperature is dropping - rapidly,” Julian informs him, curtly. “Has this happened before?”

Weakened greatly - and too cold to object - Lial allows the priest this intimacy. The chill had been there for a while - ever since his arrival - but now it’s taken shape, a brittle case of ice that refuses to melt. Even if he leans into Julian’s heat, he only feels a moment of relief before the chill sharpens.

“Not like this,” he says, breath hitching. “This is…this is different.”

“Perhaps your body is repelling the light. It was a very invasive procedure. Or it could be…” Julian trails off and wraps his hands around the demon’s. Lial feels like ice - colder than ice, in fact. If he were human, he would be near death.

“...Or it could be the curse,” Lial mutters. "The next stage."

“Indeed.”

“M-Maybe it’ll let me sleep.”

“Do you wish to try?”

“I think it’s inevitable, d-despite my wishes.” Lial’s fangs clack together as they chatter.

Julian tightens his embrace, securing the demon within. Despite the heat inside their cocoon rising, it does nothing to affect Lial’s plummeting temperature.

Infernal are born from the cold fires of the underworld, so they are by nature cold creatures. However, they still have a limit that when breached can cause severe harm. Harm that they are able to heal, yes, but a needless suffering nonetheless.

Lial’s eyes slide close and small noises of suffering fall free from his pale lips. The sheen of sweat upon his skin crystallises and glints like scattered diamantes. Julian knows - with a sinking heart - that Lial might be right after all. That he is not long for this world.

“Rest, then,” Julian says quietly, hugging the long-suffering figure close to his chest. He holds Lial like he does the dying - an intimate embrace to ease fear and suffering; and the last human touch before they return to the light. “Rest easy, my friend. I shall watch over you.”

Lial must have trust in his words, for he goes limp in the priest's embrace. And though shivers continue to wrack his body, he is thankfully unaware of this discomfort. Sleep, finally, steals the demon’s senses, and for the first time in a year, Lial rests.

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @pattonvirglsanders @wolfeyedwitch @whumpsday @whump-blog @whumpnonny @extrabitterbrain

~~~

Part 4

Masterlist

~~~

#whump #whump writing #villain whump #hero x villain #villain whumpee #supervillain whumper #hero caretaker #demon whumpee #demon whump #julian tries to be all stoic and gruff but he's panicking the entire time #actually a big softie #lial sadge julian madge

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shywhumpauthor · 1 year

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Whumpuary Day 6

Easy Fix

hostage | "don't do this" | blurry vision

Prev. | Masterlist

Cw: torture, interrogation, general beating, restraints, manhandling, drowning, self sacrifice, thoughts of death, humiliation, captivity setting

Whumpee didn’t have a plan.

They spent hours, literal hours trying to think of what they would do once that door opened again. Staring at the door until their vision unfocused. Once the guards entered and dragged them off to whatever hell awaited them next. The prospect of sleep had grown more tempting with every glance they stole at the bed, but Whumpee bit their tongue to keep their mind sharp and focused. They had managed to free their wrists from the cuffs, the only positive aspect they could possibly draw from the situation. Now their wrists just ached, ensnared with rings of dark, ugly bruises, shoulders stiff from having been locked in an awkward position for so long. Now they just sat on the floor, trying not to think about whatever awful things had happened to its previous occupant to free up the space for them.

They couldn’t even move across the room, now, lest they wish to leave the only sort of sanction they had, out of the camera’s eye. The concept of being watched had never bothered them so much before, they knew that Whumper had cameras everywhere, it would be impossible to go anywhere in the compound without catching sight of them. It was a notion they were forced to accept, but now just the thought of being non a screen in some security’s office made their skin begin to crawl.

After a while of sitting there, sitting and thinking as they desperately tried to conjure a viable plan, they could no longer keep their thoughts straight. Just as they were beginning to think that perhaps their self-inflicted sleep deprivation was not the smartest of ideas, there was the low grate of metal sliding against metal. Whumpee looked up, their bloodshot eyes settling against the door. Long before, their adrenaline had crashed, and the root of their injuries had settled, sharp stings numbing into occasional throbs. Once they had freed themself from the cuffs, which they had stashed in the corner next to the toilet, they had torn away a fair chunk of their left sleeve and soaked it in water from the sink, using that as a rag to scrub the residual blood from their face and skin. At the very least, they had control over their appearance, and in a situation with as little power as they held, they knew that walking around covered in dirt and grime was only further humiliation. Then they had bent the two bobby pins and stashed them up the faucet, not wanting to risk crossing the room to hide them in the folds of the blanket or under the mattress.

They stood up just as the door opened, having to brace themself heavily against the wall as their legs swayed, knees wobbling under their weight. For a moment, they felt as if they were going to collapse, but managed to get ahold of their balance before they could fall. When the guard stepped in, Whumpee just stood there, head raised with as much dignity as they could force. They weren’t going to cower or flinch.

If the guard was surprised to see them unrestrained, it wasn’t apparent in their expression. They were a different person than the ones who had dragged Whumpee down to the cellar the previous… what had it been, night? They had no clue what time it had been when they were brought down, and even less what it now was. Disorientation muddled their mind, but they didn’t let it show on their expression as the guard simply grabbed them by the arm and hauled them out of the small cell.

They were alone, but any inkling of defiance in Whumpee’s mind was quenched by the baton which they held in their other hand, the one that was not gripping their arm with enough force to bruise. The slender stick of metal, composed was of three thin tiers that with the press of a button near the vase could collapse back in on itself, looking as if it could fracture bone with a single excessive prod. And regardless, Whumpee was in no state to even think about acting out. Even if they managed to beat the guard, where would they go? They didn’t know the code to unlock the dungeon’s door, didn’t have a badge. That had been taken from them earlier just as forcibly as their jacket. And then, if by some miracle they did manage to escape the basement, where would they go? If they weren’t stopped by security patrolling the halls, a camera would certainly detect them before they even made it close to an exit. There were too many things to consider, so they didn’t bother, focusing their energy on keeping their legs moving with the brisk pace the guard set. Down the hall. Pause at the door. Up the stairs. Another door. Hall. Door. Their mind was too clouded with the multitude of distractions for them to realize that that was in fact not the same route as they hd taken previously, that they had taken a left outside of their cell rather than a right that would lead them back to the main entry. But since they didn’t notice, it didn’t bother them. It should have.

The path wasn’t half as long as it had been last night, walking back from the interrogation room. Whumpee wasn’t sure if that was a particularly good or bad thing.

The room was one of the first as they passed through the first hall off the staircase, a door not unlike the one to their cell, albeit missing the deadbolts. It swung open on the inside, already left cracked so the guard had no issue propping it open with their foot and leading Whumpee inside.

They didn’t have to look around to know that whatever was inside, they certainly weren’t going to like. So they kept their eyes forwards, blurred vision locked steadily against the floor as the guard brought them forwards, pausing only in the center of the room.

“Whumpee, how lovely to see you again.” A voice said, their smirk so strongly present Whumpee could hear it in their tone. “I see you didn’t take too fondly to the restraints, though I suppose I couldn’t expect you to. No issue, though, we can work around that. Easy fix, as one would say.”

Whumpee didn’t look up, their chin raised but eyes lowered to the floor. They knew they ought to, force their eyes to meet Whumper’s even against their better judgement, to show they weren’t afraid, weren’t going to cower. But who were they fooling at this point. They were cold and vulnerable and in pain, anyone could see that. They held their pose with as much confidence as they could muster, which in the moment was not very much as Whumper stepped up to them, the only part in Whumpee’s sight being their polished leather shoes and their pressed pant legs. They were dressed down, Whumpee could tell from just the glimpse, from which they gathered by the scuffs on their soles, and the uneven crease of their pants, less than a centimeter off the seam but enough for it to be noticeable. At least, to Whumpee. That meant they weren’t planning on sitting around for another conference.

The guard let go of Whumpee’s arm, but they weren’t given a moment to so much as try and make a break for the door before the guard’s boot hit against the back of their knees, sending them toppling in the single forceful movement. They bit back a groan as their knees cracked against the cement, that terrible feeling you get when you hit a joint in just the wrong place sending a thousand sparking needles stabbing up their nerves.

They were only left to dwell on that pain for a moment, before the same foot hit their back with nearly double the force, knocking them forwards flat on their face. A sharp pain like fire exploded near the center of their face, white hot flames bursting from their nose, filling their eyes with tears. A groan managed to slip out their clenched jaw, blood beginning to drip from their nostrils nearly instantly as they fought to brace themself up with their palms.

A low chuckle sounded above them, and Whumper stepped forwards just enough to prop the toe of their shoe beneath Whumpee’s chin, tilting their head up with a surprising coordination. Forcing Whumpee’s rapidly tearing eyes to meet theirs.

“Bowing for me already? I told you, Whumpee, I’ve never been one for such formalities. But by no means, I’m not going to stop you.”

Whumpee’s face nearly went as red as the blood leaking down their chin. They pushed themself back, uncaring about how the movement nearly sent them toppling back on their ass. They tried to scamper to their feet, but the guard’s foot caught them, this time in the side, knocking them back to the floor before they could really manage to even begin getting up. They were knocked onto their stomach once again, the breath forced from their lungs. Their cough caught in their chest, hindered as the metallic liquid that managed to leak down the back of their throat nearly causing them to choke.

They weren’t left to suffer like that for long, before the guard grabbed them by a fistful of their hair and hauled up to their knees. Sparks of pain exploded across Whumpee’s scalp, a low hiss of pain slipping between their teeth as they were then dragged across the length of the room. Their hand flew to grip the wrist of that holding them, scrambling to get their feet under their weight so they were jo longer being supported only by that force but it was a fleeting attempt, as they were carelessly dropped to the ground a short moment later. Their jaw knocked against the floor, but the pain just blended in to the sledgehammer now smashing wildly inside their skull, not adding that much of a difference. Tears mixed with smears of red along their cheeks, turning them into watery streaks down their jaw which they clumsily swiped away as they braced themself on one elbow.

Whumper just chuckled, but the sound held little humor as they crossed to close the short distance between them.

“You already got blood on my floor, Whumpee. You’re going to be the one cleaning that later, I’ll tell you know.” Their shoes stopped just in front of Whumpee’s face, and for a moment they were convinced that the dark sole was about to crash into their jaw, perhaps loosen a few teeth, but all Whumper did was crouch down slightly to grab the back collar of their shirt, their grip a firm command yet without excessive force as they pulled Whumpee up to their knees once more. Before them, they could now see the deep metal basin, almost like a sink one could find in a laundry room. Nearly twice as wide as it was deep, Whumpee was certain that they’d be able to fit in there, albeit rather cramped it was certainly large enough. And it was filled to nearly the top with water.

“You know what I want to know, Whumpee. Today, all you have to do is tell me who you work for. Once you do that, we can get you all cleaned up and back to your cell, I’ll even have staff bring you some dinner, alright? We don’t have to go through with all of this, you just need to tell me the truth.”

Halfway through their spiel, Whumpee had already zoned out, trying to focus through the pain on only their breathing. Their lungs burned already, ribs ached from the most recent round of abuse. Taking a full breath was difficult, they already knew what kind of hell would await them now.

Whumper took their silence as answer enough, before their hand moved from Whumpee’s shirt to their hair, fingers knotting between the tangled locks in the same manner as had the guard’s.

“I hope you can hold your breath, then.” Whumper sighed, their voice pulled tight with suppressed emotion as they then shoved Whumpee’s head beneath the cold water.

————————————

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @whumpuary

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talisnotgone · 7 months

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CW: LOTS OF GORE, PARTICULARLY IN THE FACIAL REGION

DAY 2 OF GORETOBER: SELF-INFLICTED

with my bbg Kevin wtnv

okay, I know I didn't actually do goretober day 1. or tell anyone I was doing goretober to begin with. but hey. it's happening now. Kevin is doing Normal things to himself and. I fucking LOVED drawing this. this was SO FUCKING FUN. I LOVE drawing gore and I'm tired of pretending like I'm not. know what I also love drawing? his hair. it's so beautifully greasy. I wish I could show off his long ass braid in the back but alas I have not drawn him from the back yet. expect more of this man on the 11th, probably. that one's torture.

#cw gore #goretober #wtnv #kevin wtnv #cw blade #cw blades #cw eyeless #?#is that a thing?#gore and blood my beloved #<- my tag for gore art now #so block that if you Hate it

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catiuapavel · 11 months

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I think the best way to experience Oz and Ozma's relationship is from Chaos route to Neutral route to Lawful route because it feels like you progressively dig into the layers of their relationship

Chaos route presents their relationship as a codependent one though mostly on Oz's part. He seems to cherish and idealize Ozma.

He goes as far as to project his feelings on Denam and Catiua, openly comparing himself to him.

And boy, does he project.

However Ozma appears strict and shuts him down. Still the route portrays a fun complicity between them as they seem to enjoy teasing Denam (about the torture his father endured).

During Neutral route, Oz is slain in Boed Fortress, early in Chapter 3. Ozma takes the role of the mourning sister, and, in turn, her feelings for Oz are put in the spotlight. And it's clear that this codependy is mutual when Ozma considers them to be two halves of the same soul.

Now it's Ozma's turn to draw a comparison between their relationship and Denam's and Catiua's. But unlike Oz, it's no jest and while she likens herself to Catiua, it's only to differentiate their feelings and emphasize that her love for Oz and the grief she feels after his passing is beyond comparison.

Ozma's behaviour is self-sacrificial, borders suicidal even. Usually driven by duty, the reason she defends Phidoc castle in Neutral route isn't because she's ordered to so that Lanselot may escape. She's staying behind to face her brother's murderer and avenge him, and she intends to die doing so.

Ozma can't consider the possibility of living without Oz. In hindsight, the differences in their death quotes on chaos route already hinted toward this:

She thinks only of reuniting with Oz in death whereas he is stricken by grief, but immediately looks forward to celebrating the death of her killer. This leads me to think Oz could go on living without her (albeit not without heartbreak).

Now Lawful route subverts our expectations and gives their relationship a complicated twist. We learn of Ozma's former betrothal to her current fiancé's brother whom she believes died in prison after assassinating their father, but is in fact alive (and innocent). We also learn that Oz knew all along and worked alongside Balxephon to hide this from her.

His apparent dedication to Ozma, as it's depicted on Chaos route, now appears rather superficial if he's willing to plot against her like this.

More so, Oz seems to resent Ozma for the love she bestowed onto Hobyrim and the passion with which she fought to have him saved. In contrast, he doesn't seem to mind her current arranged betrothal to Balxephon (most likely because he respects Balxephon and knows Ozma's heart isn't in it). He's both controlling and punishing her.

Lawful route also gives us a timeline in which Ozma's trust and confidence in her brother are shattered by the realization he was in cahoots with her fiancé who lied and used her.

Throughout chapter 4, Ozma struggles with the pain this betrayal has inflicted on her and with the persistent love she feels for him still. After all he's done, her Chapter 4 death quote expresses relief that she may see him again.

CODA Episode 4 develops this facet of their relationship further. Although Ozma confronts her feelings about her fellow commanders, Balxephon's and Lanselot's betrayal, and above all Oz's, she hopes to see her brother change his ways and live a long life.

On the other hand, Oz reveals just how depraved his feelings toward her actually are. He relishes the opportunity to see her in pain and unashamedly admits to it.

In the end, I don't think Ozma ever fully understood her own twin brother. She turned a blind eye to so much of what he did and so much of who he was. She thought of him as half of her soul and still showed she knew so little of that soul. There is a real tragedy behind it.

To discover their bond in order of Chaos - Neutral - Lawful is to be given one side, then the other, and to see the superficial before gaining some thorough understanding of how different these two are, and how different their love for one another is.

Personally I first play through Lawful then Neutral and finally Chaos, but I like to reflect on their relationship from this perspective nonetheless.

#tactics ogre #ozma moh glacius #oz moh glacius

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