#/ also happy to do more breakdowns like this if there is a desire for them

[pencap]

Hey your poetry is so pretty and evoking and I've gotten back into practicing fiction writing in recent years but in my own criticism I don't think my prose is very evocative. It gets the job done and I think my stories are readable and enjoyable, but I don't think my descriptive language is particularly striking and I would like to improve on that! Sometimes I read and the author has used such creative brilliant metaphors and descriptors etc and it comes across as artistic genius. So, if you have any tips and time to share them I would love to hear about how you select your descriptors, if there's any advice you've heard before on this, etc. <3 feel like my brain simply can't come up with creative language after my decade long break lol

Hello, darling! Thank you for the kind words. I don't exactly have a formal process, but I can share some of what works for me.

The simplest, truest, and least fun advice I have is just this: practice. Practice, practice, practice. The more descriptive writing you do, the better you'll become at it. It's much easier said than done, I know--it's been months since I've posted anything here myself--but it's unfortunately true.

But beyond that, in terms of strategies, I have a couple. I think "evocative" can mean a lot of things, but it sounds like you're specifically thinking about description (as opposed to, say, emotionally evocative) so I'll focus on that. I'm gonna reference january 2nd a bunch, just for concrete examples.

Having a clear image to start with always helps. So when I wrote january 2nd, for example, I had a vivid mental image of an empty beach at dawn, practically abandoned 24 hours after thousands of people crowded together to watch the first sunrise of the year. The stretched out horizon, the dark blue twilight overhead and pale hazy dawn on the eastern edge, the shy peek of the topmost edge of the sun, the soothing ceaseless rush of the waves, the clear expanse and white-foam edges of the water, all of it. The loneliness of it, sure, but also the freedom of it. The quiet and the peace.

It also helps ot have a why. What are you trying to achieve with your description? Often in poetry I'm going for a specific emotional or visual effect, so I try to focus as much as I can on the pieces that resonate for that. In january 2nd, it was the horizon in particular. Nothing in the poem actually mentions a beach, even though that's part of my mental image, because the beach wasn't as important or effective. The sky and the horizon is what worked for the emotional tone, for me. Specifically their openness. Not the light, not the darkness, not the water, but being open, so that's what the first stanza revolves around.

If you're going for "fresh" / "interesting" / "unexpected" / etc. I like to play around with one of three things. One is transferring descriptors from one target to another. (In january 2nd, I take crowded from jostling people on the beach and transfer it to the horizon.) I think these are most fun when you take human(-adjacent) descriptors and put it on inanimate objects / the environment, but that's just my taste. Another trick is to try for hyphenates, which didn't come up in january 2nd. But two of my recent favourites are in Precious: sleep-warm and heartbeat-quiet. sleep-warm is about evoking both the cozy comfort of sleep and the warmth of holding a living, breathing animal in your hands. heartbeat-quiet is about both the volume and the intimacy and the repetitive rhythm of it. The thrid trick is simple and boring and exhilarating when it works, and that's playing around with synonyms. I remember sacred weight of the untouched being difficult. Is it sacred or precious or treasured or holy? Is it untouched or new or young or innocent or unsullied or pure? Try them out and pick the one that feels right, or at least feels the best.

Sometimes I'll think about sound, though not in janary 2nd. soothing ceaseless rush a few paragraphs ago was a deliberate sound-based choice, though. That repeated s-sound feels and sounds like waves. Sometimes I'll think about rhythm, although that's a bit more important in poetry than prose. Sometimes I'll think about length--of the overall description, of the specific phrase or sentence, of the words themselves. Rule of three feels good to me and you'll very often see me write things in triplets (young and fresh and new), frankly a bit more often than I wish I did. Short words can bring emphasis, or abruptness, or simplicity. Long descriptions can be more flowing, fluid, relaxed.

Almost every and any element of language can be leveraged for descriptive power. You'll rarely if every use all of them at once, but it's fun to try many of them out. Maybe you'll figure out versions that feel easiest or best for you.

Alright, I think that's long enough! If you had a specific line or poem in mind, I'm happy to break it down further. Caveat that some of the pieces on this blog are quite old and I might not entirely remember what went through my mind years and years ago, of course.

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Burn

Yandere!Husband x gn!Reader

warnings: abuse, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, manipulative tendencies, gaslighting, murder, gore

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

It burns, so agonizingly much, that uncertainty about this whole ordeal crept up your spine and settled in your chest.

Was this the right thing to do? To flee? It echoed in the emptiness that took over your head. It was perplexing and uncomfortable. You shouldn't feel empathy for him. He was crazy, deranged! Gone, a maniac, a bastard—

But maybe he was innocent and you were running away from the ghosts hunting you.

He was all that was left of your family. You didn't want to do this, you wanted him with you, loving and sweet, but it seemed that fate had different plans for the two of you. It seems that fate didn't favour you.

He had wormed himself into your life—then into your sacred family bonds, destroying what was already fragile. The mask he wore was that of a kindred spirit that sought for love, yet you never knew better than to believe the artificially crafted facade.

Prior he was an orphan, abandoned by his mother at six, which admittedly tugged at your heartstrings, even more so after learning the horrible foster parents, which was followed by the straight up ignorant adoptive family that took him in only for prestige matters.

So it wasn't that you didn't understand his desire for family, and you were even happy for him! Glad he found love in yours, yet all your hopeful dreams of finally peace settling in had vanished the moment the first of your relatives cut you off. Then a second followed, a third, a fourth until even your mom shunned you, refusing to see you any longer. They absolutely adored your husband but hated your guts.

However he didn't seem to hold the same adoration for them, no, he didn't even possess an ounce of sympathy with them as he watched them turn to ashes Infront of his very own eyes, laughing, like the maniac he was.

“Love!” he would jump up and down you remembered, seemingly over the moon by your dad praising him or your sister gifting him something meaningless as a cookie.

After he had burned down everything holy to you, he had just slipped back into your shared bed, stinking horribly of that kind of smell that reached your nose every time you left your omelette too long on the stove.

You hadn't understood then, but you did now, that that smell was foreshadowing to the petrifying news that had reached you the next day.

Everything spiralled out of your control after that day. You were completely scattered, forgetful, permanently teary-eyed, clumsy and visibly distraught.

So it started with your inability to hold up your job, which made him offer you to stay at home, while he financed you both. He was so devilishly sweet, messaging your shoulders when you were completely stiff, guiding you through breakdowns, cooking for you, feeding you. You hadn't know how you got so lucky with him.

However things became odd quickly, your friends seemed to disappear one by one, their numbers blocked, deleted or erased from existence. You were unbelievably mad, was this because of your new miserable state—the friends that swore to go through thick and thin with you, leaving you in your most vulnerable times—how could they!

Although you were burning with anger, even that was quickly forgotten thanks to him. He was your absolute everything, your entire world and you were much obviously his. You two were a match made in heaven—or at least that's what you believed until that one phone call.

“Stacey?—”

“You have to get out of there! He isn't what he seems to be— your husband, he’s crazy! He threatened me! If I didn't stop being in contact with you then he would have also murdered me like he did with your family—” your heard your friend over the phone, voice unusually frail, breaths laboured with sniffling in the background.

Your heart leaped in your chest at the sound of her frantic claims, completely unbelievable and baffling, even if your trust for her had completely evaporated, uncertainty still poisoned you and infiltrated your mind like a sickness.

Nevertheless you did end the call before she could spew anymore nonsense, sealing her terrible fate, because unbeknownst to you, that was the last time she would ever talk to anyone.

Things didn't feel normal anymore after that, suspiciousness spread through you, gnawing at your already highly sensitive nerves, you instability just making you waver back and forth from completely denying the unapparent truth and panicking that perhaps it was true. She was your friend for years after all, what reason did she have to lie?

That was until you found Stacey’s childhood diary in his possession with dried splatter of blood decorating it—as if this wasn't terrifying enough what met you on the inside made you drop the book, completely mortified and stunned into silence.

Every entry that contained your name scribbled over with hearts, anything that had to do with you underlined, things that you liked circled in like a madman.

You were terrified to say the least—she was right, she was right and you didn't believe her.

Tears welled up in your eyes and before you knew it, your feet carried you out of your shared home, still in your PJ's with slippers adorning your feet.

Which leads to this moment in the present.

Unfortunately for you, he had knowingly bought a house with your inheritance, in the middle of nowhere. You were stumbling over twigs, leaves crushing beneath your weight and before you knew it, you were running.

Yet you did forget one crucial aspect—running didn't help when he could track you down with the GPS clipped under your skin so subtly you didn't even realise he had done so.

Bang.

Pain shot through your thigh, an excruciating amount, making you instantly stumble, before tumbling down, face first into the wet earth, crying out in pain.

Blood seeped out from where he shot you, painting the forest floor a warning crimson. You tried to crawl, you attempted to flee, but all was for nothing, no one and nothing could have tear you two apart, even if it was you.

Fingers roughly whipped your head back, scalp burning from the abuse.

“There you are, love.” he spat out, the familiar warmth gone replaced by an indefinite disdain.

“You saw it, huh? You learned about everything I did for you and that's how you thank me? By running away just cuz’ I committed some petty crimes?” he shook your head violently, before shoving your face into the mud. Before he ripped your head out of the earth, starting to fall into a pattern, repeating it over and over again till your vision faded with only his words ringing into your ears, as blood ran down your presumably broken nose, eyes swelling with unshed tears of a gruesome future that awaited you.

“You're weak. And dumb. But don't you worry, I will take care of you. I will love you, look after you, clean up each mess you make, be there to rock you back and forth when you have one of your meltdowns again. So don't worry your stupid little head about anything,

just trust me, love.”

[demodraws0606]

I'm kinda peeved off that I'm seeing a few people that have the critique that Siffrin didn't deserve their "happy ending" in the end, that he was forgiven too quickly. I'm bad about this for actually a number of reasons.

(Warning this will be long because I am irrationally passionate about this, totally not because I relate to Siffrin or anything ahahahahaha)

First, logically, Siffrin's actions definitely are not as awful as people make it out to be especially not in the context of a time loop story. The worst Siffrin has done was his actions in the Bad Touch achievement and the last loop, one being purely optional. Outside of that, any tampering Siffrin had done was purely harmless, sure it's existentially horrifying but it's not like he did any actual manipulation.

You could also argue since Siffrin was in control of the loop, they are responsible for everything that was happening but we know full well he wasn't in control literally, his emotions were in control of the loop. Considering, a whole thing in this story is how acting as though you're fine and trying to control your emotions don't work, I don't think we can make the argument Siffrin was really in control.

He only wanted to trap everyone in the timeloop when it already had destroyed his mind. I thought it was obvious it was a monkey's paws situation.

The last time loop was the breaking point of Siffrin and it's one of the things he does suffer consequences from, they do get mad at him and he does apologize. What else do you want him to do ?

The Bad Touch achievement is the only thing that could be said to be "unforgivable" but it's optional and as far as I know it's hinted that Siffrin would talk about it with Isabeau. In fact it's said that even though right now they're fine and okay, they literally say they are okay to be mad at Siffrin later.

And also, it's not taking into acount the Actual feelings of his family either. They can't remember the loops and they have their own reason to not still be mad with him, so why should they hold Siffrin accountable for feelings they don't have.

In fact, the storyline strikes the perfect balance to not have Siffrin do such horrible action that he'd actually be unforgivable but still have him do enough that it shows what the loops are doing to him but....

..it's not just logically, judging Siffrin's actions as bad/good things like that is not just what's wrong with the narrative that Siffrin should've suffered more consequences. It also goes against the narrative itself.

For me at least, ISAT is a game about mental illness but also recovery. It's not coincidental a lot of people project their own mental issues onto Siffrin, it's not just a "ahahaha they're so relatable !!", it's a genuine part of the story.

I could make an entire essay about it but that's not the point, what would a story about these themes be if the ending was just "you need to repent for the things you did during your own mental breakdown"

It may seem ridiculous after all this that they'd just forgive Siffrin after all of this, but really hasn't most of the points against Siffrin's morality been coming from Siffrin themselves.

Siffrin believed he deserved to be rejected, that he deserved the suffer, that he was disgusting. It was these belief that kept him from talking about the loop because for him, everything was his fault. Not just because he created the loop but because the desire of staying with them was the very sin he hated himself for since the beginning.

So for all that self hatred to be met with, strange acceptance. It almost seems ridiculous, and Siffrin's talk with Odile in the epilogue reinforces how almost comedic it is.

It's close to reality, isn't it ? How many times have you thought you did something completely unforgivable to someone you cared about and you were waiting for them to be furious at you, but that moment never came.

Because they just simply weren't hurt enough by what happened. And sure it was definitely a bad thing you did and they were maybe mad in the moment, but you apologized. Sure there could be more consequences for what you did but what's the point in asking for them to be more mad at you ?

Shouldn't you strive to be better than beg to be hurt for your actions ?

Do you think being hurt, being yelled at would make anything better other than just feed the voice in your head what it wants to hear ?

Weird flowery talk aside, it just doesn't fit the themes and the narrative of the story is what I'm saying. Asking for more punishement for Siffrin goes against what the story is about.

It's just like complaining that the looping mechanics are too frustrating, that's part of the package deal bb !!

Fuck the idea of "repenting by suffering through the consequences" !!! Having to deal with "blinding unrelenting forgiveness and kindness" is in !!!!

[quarterdollar]

SEVERELY obsessed with the character insight here. so obsessed that i typed a long-ass post of analysis, in which i support the argument that volo really isn’t a complete sociopath, he’s just a big emotional short-sighted hypocrite.

as we know, volo’s endgame goal is to subjugate arceus and recreate the world from scratch, implicitly so that whatever pain and heartbreak he’s experienced/witnessed no longer exists. this is of course an intentional parallel to cyrus’s desire to create a world without spirit in response to the emotional pain he experienced in his childhood. while we do not have a concrete explanation on what exactly the painful events volo experienced were like we do with cyrus, he talks about them enough that it’s clear that they impacted him significantly. that is to say i think he’s expressing his thoughts and feelings sincerely when he brings the topic up, he isn’t lying or trying to misdirect you in any way in regards to that.

i bring this up because a big portion of cyrus’s character that to this day flies over many fans’ heads is that he is defined by ironies and hypocrisies. he wishes for a world devoid of any emotions specifically because he is dominated by them—he confesses as much during his rant in the distortion world:

cyrus also famously has a crobat on his team, which evolves through high friendship, despite his steadfast belief that spirit—of which friendship is undoubtedly a part��is an ugly, vague, incomplete thing. in addition to this, usum all but explicitly confirms that the journal of a child who befriended a rotom was written by him. so, in conclusion, cyrus has a heart and is easily swayed by good emotions as well as bad.

so now we come to volo’s new dialogues in pokemon masters. i think that they have made it clearer that like cyrus’s emotional actions, his obsessions with history & preserving memories through photographs are meant to be genuine hypocrisy on his part, rather than intentional obfuscation of intent. think about it—a man who’s dominated by curiosity & love for history also claims to want to remake the world so utterly that all of that history is rendered completely destroyed. yet even in the depths of his post-defeat breakdown he still maintains that defining curiosity of his:

and now i ask, what is curiosity, if not an expression of love for the world around you? despite claiming to want to destroy the current world and all evidence of its existence, volo also still wants to know absolutely everything about it, past and present. it’s inherently contradictory. and this brings me to the recurring themes in his pokemas dialogue: how he not only appreciates photographs as a way to create a tangible record of history, but as a way “to capture and isolate the best moments”. those happy moments worth holding onto and looking back on in the future. see also the photograph of him and togepi in the original game, never commented on, taken for no apparent reason other than the fun of it—or more specifically, as these dialogues suggest, to isolate that moment in time in a tangible form. that is an act of love and of sentiment.

so, what’s the conclusion i’m getting at here? well, because of the ambiguity of his character in the base game. i’ve seen that volo is often interpreted as being a manipulative sociopath motivated solely by his desire for control. everything he does before the postgame is entirely a lie, absolutely none of the facade was genuine, etc. and don’t get me wrong, he is a control freak with a god complex! he does railroad the player into doing what he wants! he is not honest and he is not a good person. but, i think there is very much an intentional irony to him the same way there is with cyrus, in that his road to hell was paved with good intentions. he has the capacity for genuine kindness and i personally believe that his descent into villainy was spurred entirely by an earnest appreciation for the world around him and a desire to eliminate suffering.

as a closing statement, i want to bring up a quote from volo himself regarding calaba of the pearl clan:

i don’t think it’s that volo feels nothing for his pokemon or for the people around him—rather, i think he simply loves the world very, very much.

[grison-in-space]

It's never too late. We are beginning to think about how and why we exploit animals, and how it is not morally consistent with our values; several prominent anarchists and communist bloggers on Tumblr have admitted that veganism is ethically and financially superior on every level, though they don't participate in it, which is sad. All it takes is a little extra work. The collapse of capitalism will also bring the collapse of the animal industry, or vice versa. The meat plants subjugate both humans and animals, causing persistent trauma- in fact, it has the highest rate of trauma among every category of labor. If you support abolition, you should support all abolition: children, psych people, and animals. On a site like Tumblr, we have an opportunity to promote the breakdown of all positions of power. We are all equal.

Honey, you have the wrong fucking blog to the extent that I can only assume you are spamming this message to everyone you think might listen. I have gone on the record several times to say:

I am a pragmatic empiricist. I care much less about ideological consistency than I do about observed outcomes. There are traps there, too—sometimes people get too much into the weeds about observing proxies for desired goals—but essentially I do think that careful observation of the world around me is much more valuable than starting with a consistent ideology and assuming that good intentions will yield good outcomes.

I am motivated by animal welfare. For me, part of that involves meeting animals on their own level, using their own species-specific signals to assess stress and comfort, and understanding animals within their own social context. Therefore,

I am opposed to animal rights narratives that encourage people to project their own imagined emotional responses onto animals without assessing the animals' actual signals in context. Additionally,

I believe as a behavioral ecologist that, for good and for ill, humans are essentially animals participating in a broader ecosystem that includes us. I do not think humans are special or exist outside that broader web, and I think that ecological intervention works most effectively when we see ourselves as part of nature rather than as some kind of twisted unnatural personification of original sin. Conflict and death are part of life. You won't make a better world by pretending otherwise.

I am a disabled person ("psych people?!"), and more specifically an autistic and neurodivergent person. I literally spelled out for you last night that I have difficulties eating and that imposing more barriers to that ("a little extra work") is a significant burden for me. Your easy dismissal of this point is, in context, amazingly and blithely ableist. Wow.

"psych people?!" I am happy to critique coercive psychiatry and medicine more generally, but that one's new on me. If you're not brave enough to use the language of mad/crip pride, are you entirely sure you understand the points of the dialogue? Your demonstrated grasp of disability justice is already extremely poor; this ain't helping.

I am not anti-state (i.e. I am not an anarchist; I am a democratic socialist) and I routinely criticize daydreams about burning entire systems to the ground and replacing them with a vague new system. Those criticisms are usually based in historical analysis of attempts to do exactly that, which have typically resulted in a lot of bloodshed, generally from the most vulnerable people in society. They also often yield a new and not necessarily more egalitarian power structure that continues to oppress people, sometimes more aggressively than the institution preceding it.

For the same reason, I am not a communist. I think communism offers too many opportunities for unscrupulous people to seize power, creating more inequality under the banner of equality itself. Again, this position comes from reading the history of communist states from as many perspectives as I can get my mitts on.

I frequently critique assumptions that capitalism is the only root of social problems. This does not mean that I am pro-capitalism. It means that I think you have to think deeply about problems, especially when it makes you uncomfortable, to understand how to solve them. Many problems that capitalism exacerbates are actually rooted in problems about impulse control (as with Ideas Jerry the other day), basic human social dynamics, emotional regulation, complex traumas, and many other things. You must understand how these problems arise before you can construct a structure that guards against them effectively.

Fundamentally, I think you are probably optimistically spamming this message to anyone that you think will listen. I invite you to consider how effective that is as a tactic to advance your politics: when you pick the wrong person, at best you leave the impression that people serving your ideology are essentially self centered and bad at listening. At worst, you wind up pissing people off enough to sit down and lay out exactly how many points they disagree with you on. Coalitions of solidarity are based on listening carefully to one another and finding the places we agree on; shit like that is antithetical to building them because it sends a very effective signal that you are either very, very bad at listening or uninterested in doing so.

Either way, get out of my house.

[luckykiwiii101]

Okay this is outrageously easy. The way I overcomplicated everything is ummm embarrassing but we move…

So I just really thought and took in that I don't have to put anything on a pedestal and tire myself out I should just stick to that “idc” mindset I have. I was manifesting waking up in the void since I wanted to experience it (and probably manifest my dream life through it) and I was like it's literally nothing, not that deep. Before I would affirm and vaunt many times, visualise and I’d experience that feeling of fulfilment and knowing multiple times until it felt natural. Then yesterday I basically just left it all alone since I already did everything (even when I didn't have to) so it's basically inevitable for me to get what i want, there’s no point in doing anything more now (also methods made me feel like i was struggling to “get” and i didn’t like that). Anyway last night I woke up in the void (by literally falling asleep normally) and I didn't even freak out or anything I was just like "hm okay". I affirmed that I manifest things I want extremely fast and I wake up in the void every night, after I just chilled there for a bit.

I came across this post on how to make your desires feel natural to you i forgot who it was and I honestly can’t be asked finding it but it said to think of it this way. Let’s say many people want a certain feature you have like your eye colour or hair type/texture and they really want it, they even get hella excited or happy thinking about having it. But when you actually take the time to think about that feature you don't even give much of a reaction like you don't care as much that's cus you already have it, it's always been yours. I know I'm repeating what everyone has said and that's because that's literally all there is to say honestly. So being on tumblr scavenging for answers isn't doing anything really. everyone will just repeat the same thing but phrased differently to help people understand better and some people will get mad about them repeating themselves like….. yeah..? that's basically the answer to all your questions.

You think you’re “waiting” to “get” your desires but like it’s the other way round, your desires are waiting for you to wake up and accept that they’re already yours

So it's all just crickets and tumbleweed, if you're just sitting there questioning why you, apparently, don't have your desires. Imagine your desires are just awkwardly watching you ignoring the fact that you already have them and they’re right there in front of you. They’re probably just looking to the left and right, scratching their head. it's especially awkward when you're looking at the 3D for answers when it's literally useless and doesn't do shit, it only reflects old circumstances. That can only change when you turn to yourself or the 4D for answers, and of course any method will help but then again it all comes down to you to decide if it works. If you "want" your desires don’t dismiss what it is that "gets" you them...idk how to phrase it but just start applying and persist it's honestly too easy.

Anyway enough from me, I'm finally deleting this app right after this. This was long sorry if it doesn't make sense but this is how I understood it. To summarise you're all that's left to"getting" your desires. Think of it as having a breakdown over not being able to find your glasses or hair tie but turns out you're wearing it the entire time.

Thank you Wii and all the other bloggers who take the time out of their day to help others with all of this. Take care of yourselves!!

THIS IS AMAZING!!! I’m SO proud of you!! SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY APPLIED WHAT THEY KNEW AND NOW LOOK AT THEM!! you deserve this so much honestly i’m beyond happy for you!

Also i REALLY love the way you put yourself on the pedestal by saying that your desires are waiting for YOU and not the other way round.

[devilart2199-aibi]

I know I already said this prior to you, but I adore your Stunticon designs so much and feel an absolute rush of joy when I see you post art of any of them. I yearn for more information on your AU versions of them, and what happens to them all when they get to earth.

Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown, where do Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider go after the split up in the team and how do they all handle it? They're all connected through the gestalt bond, which makes a gestalt closer than any other cybertronians, and how do they handle Motormaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?

Does Motormaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?

Thank you again! Hearing your interest in my AU really does make me so happy!! 🥺💕 So feel free to ask away! I've been pretty busy recently so I haven't had any time to work on the au sadly. But let's answer some questions now! With some drawings!! >:3

Also long post warning! !

"Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown?"

In short, undecided atm! But this is what happened if he was planning to leave with Breakdown:

Dead End and Breakdown agreed on a meeting spot a bit outside the Stunticons base. But when Breakdown doesn't show up for a long while, Dead End figured he got cold feet and began heading back to base only to get a coms transmission from MotorMaster telling him to meet up with Dragstrip and Wild Rider who are currently in pursuit of Breakdown!

Dead End would be wayyyy behind the others and only end up catching a glimpse of Breakdown and Knockout being apprehended by the Autobots, the other Stunticons long gone.

Dead End wasn't really sure what he would do now. It seemed like the others didn't know he wanted out like Breakdown. But what if they did? Does he risk it and go back? What was he going to do if the plan had gone smoothly even?

Well... he hadn't really got that far. He just knew he was tired, and Breakdown suggested an out. But joining another group of hot-headed 'Cons? Really?? He needed something different... maybe just... roaming around earth would be fun? It definitely has to be calmer than anything he's experienced the past few Megacycles.

For Dead End, since I wasn't sure if I would have him leave with Breakdown or not, I hadn't chose a story for him yet, though i did have a few ideas in mind.

"Where do MotorMaster, Dragstrip and Wild Rider go after the split up in the team and how do they handle it?"

They probably wouldn't go far, maybe just relocate their base. The remaining team would stick together for the most part. They're still the Stunticons, just... less.

MotorMaster would become hell-bent on getting the two back one way or another... or maybe even making them pay for such treachery to their team.

"How do they handle MotorMaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?"

They were used to MM's intimidation techniques to get them back in line, but nothing like this. Sure he'd give 'em a good toss, smack or yelling at, but this, this was something else.

For Dragstrip he'd think to himself "What did Breakdown think would happen if he told MM him off and ditched the team? What a fool" as a kind of way to make sense of the situation. He'd definitely stand a bit further from MM than before.

As for Wild Rider, he loved a good fight. Heck he didn't mind killing a few bots! But never each other. He got an uneasy feeling from the whole thing.

For Dead End, they always remember him voicing his annoyance and tiredness with everything, but they never actually thought he'd do anything about it.

"Does MotorMaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?"

Sadly not. He probably only regrets not being able to see Breakdown's desire to leave sooner. Not that he'd know what he'd do then.

And I think that was it? Thanks again for the questions and curiosity towards my au!! :3

[strom-in-the-sky]

hii i just saw your dazai smut and it means so much to me 🥺

is it possible to do a dazai x afab reader comfort + smut who has small chest is often feels insecure of the way she looks, thinking shes not as pretty as the other girls and had a breakdown in front of him about how she is not good enough and doesnt understand why someone as handsome and desirable as dazai would ever love her?

tysm bby <3

Ahhhhh! Thank you >< I'm glad to hear!!! Thanks for the request! ♡

Warnings/content.

Female user, no y/n mentioned. user is a bit inoccent in a sense. Dazai nickname for women ((Bella, belladonna)), body shaming on user part. User not mentioned as skiny, or plump. (You all pretty never underestimated yourself ♡) breakdown/ poor mental health. Mention slightly of dazai past. Dazai being probably occ. Insecurities. Written by someone who's a virgin and no experience in sex is not actually to the real thing. NSFW under the cut.

Sort ngl.

You were pretty in dazai's eye. Very pretty. For a man sin and dirt on his hand, he found peace in someone, and that lovely person is you. He doesn't even care what type of body you have. Sure, he been around once and awhile paying with other girl's feelings. But yours oh his sweet little inoccent bella. He loves you so much and pretty much shows you it every single day. Many kisses in the morning, secretly making sure you were much better than him. Seriously, this man is broke, but he spends every cent on you to see you smile happy. It felt much, much better than anything else he ever indulged in. Now dazai isn't stupid. He is a very smart man. Many more sometimes than you expect. So when he felt something was off with his sweet bella, he opted for the best option, finding it out himself. Since you probably wouldn't tell him straight up or lie. He could see it, so he opted to get the answers he wanted himself.

"Bella~, I'm heading out to buy us something to eat, alright? I be back in a bit, " he lied but for a good reason "accidently" leaving his wallet on the counter as he made his way out of the bedroom. You were showing, but you till heard what he said. Once you came out, the shower, drying off your skin. You got on your bra and panties before letting a small sigh out. Looking down at your chest. Dazai always said your body was built so wonderful for him. The perfect nature of a woman in his eyes. The doubts started to flood your head. Wonderfully. Just wonderfully. "I wonder what he sees in a woman like me... he is so handsome and wonderful. I'm just a skiny bones.... I don't even have a chest... maybe a more woman with a chest...or ass..mabye, even a skinner waist...." Words leak out your mouth almost like how water did. Oh, but that lovely boyfriend heard it all. His stomach dropped. How could his wonderful Bella think of that! It broke his heart to hear you sniffls but also he loved hearing them when if was onlt for him...oh his sweet bella dod things to his heart.... "He probably doesn't deserve me-" With that, the door was pushed open as dazai pulled you into his arms. He was taller, lanky frame curled over yours as he pulled you back into his chest. "Bella. Never ever think of that again, you hear me. I love you. Do you know what you do to me? You make me... feel whole... don't you ever say if you deserve me. I'm the one who is lucky here." he mumbled into your ears as you cried. God, he hated how much it made him twitch in his pants. As he just wished to bend you over and take you then. But he knew he had to care softly for his precious Bella first.

"Just let me show you how much I love this body of yours~" he didn't even let you get a next word as he sat down on the bed pulling you to his back again making you face a mirror in the shared bedroom. The small, fully body mirror, as he loop his legs to yours to pull them apart. He whispered nothing but sweet words in his ears as his lanky hands ran down your neck to your chest. "You know I like any women, bella~, and well, I don't care if you don't have a chest or a models body. You know how adorable you are when your girls get perked~ like~ ah! There it's~ It looks like someone existed to see me!" His big palms didn't waste time getting the bra off as he tossed it away as he squished your small chest. His figures worked on pinching and twisting your nipples. Chuckling at your face as he watched threw the mirror. As small mewls came from your lips, one hand moved to travel to your neck and hold your head to look at yourself in the mirror when you tired to look away as the other slid down your body over your stomach. "Your belly is so good too~ I just move to rest my head on it, so squishy and nice~ so much hickey i can leave on it~ my sweet bella..." he purred as he titled his head to suck and lick your neck. His hand squished your stomach as his palm almost cover your whole stomach, completely tracing heart shapes to it. His eyes looked at your face as he smirked. "Good girl~ and then his litte pretty cunt. I can't get enough of it." That when it came painfully noticeable. He was rock hard in his pants. He knew what he was doing as he shifted his hips a bit. "Feel it bella? Feel what your body does to me? I can't control it when it comes to you~" he chuckled as his hand traced your pantie line.

"Suck a shame. I got to mess up my pretty girl pussy up~"

I hope this was good >< slightly rushed and I might add more or change more later....

Proof read- nu uh.

[dragon-ashes1485]

TROP s2 ep8

Wow. OK I...am mostly not coherent at the moment so I will be doing character breakdowns because SHIT A BRICK there is so much to unpack.

Durin:

I want to start by saying how fantastic that opening was?! Durin bidding goodbye to Disa as he went to confront his father was so good. Owain portrayed the look of a son in this episode, someone who truly admires his father and wants the best for him, but he also portrayed a king, a dwarf that desires the best for his people with all his heart. I am disappointed we didn't get an Elrond & Durin reunion but his dad had just died so...fair I guess.

I really enjoyed the dwarf storyline, especially watching them descend into greed, especially Durin III, who let me say had an absolutely metal exit. The story of them arm-wrestling when Durin was a child really shows that he feels put under by his Father, only for Durin III to admit in his final minutes that Durin was always strong, and that he would need to be strong. I loved that part, the dialogue made me very sad.

A moment to appreciate this scene please!

The end of the story in season 2 for the dwarves feels like we might see more of them in possible season 3? I really hope so. I liked that Durin was ready to offer aid to the Elves, it's clear how awful he felt that Eregion fell in part because he could not send his army until it was too late.

Aside: DISA LIVES SO I LIVE ALSO.

Also: baby Balrog, anyone? I love how that firey bastard looked. They made it look like it had been plucked straight from the depths of hell itself.

I really hope the Dwarven storyline is a key focus in season 3, especially if it means getting the three amigos (or the two amigos and their tag-along elf) back together.

The Stranger:

It has been revealed! He has his beautiful staff! I love that it was taken from the ruins of the Stoor tree, kind of continuing the storyline of beauty coming from peril that seems to follow Gandalf around in the finales of the last two seasons. I very much enjoyed the little scene with Tom Bombadil. I'd heard them singing in the soundtrack and was very pleased to see it.

I'm including the Harfoots in this section, too, as they weren't in it much. Poppy's story of what Saddoc told her after she lost her family was so heartfelt and very Tolkein, I think that was my favourite bit of the Harfoot storyline this episode. For Nori...is it cruel for me to say that her ending of the journey with the Stranger felt a bit...sudden? I enjoyed her storyline and then she simply walks away from him. While I appreciate that she's doing her own thing, it feels like we were given such a character who was kind of swept away a little? I don't know, I liked parts of it but some felt like an untouched cup of tea, lukewarm and slightly disappointing. I might be alone in this but who knows! I only hope her story isn't left there.

Elendil: (and others)

Oh Elendil, thank you for acknowledging the existence of your other son, Anarion! Also he has Narsil now!! *happy noises* oh Miriel letting him go, sacrificing herself for him once more. This poor woman, please treat her and Elendil nicely next season? Pretty please? Eärien redeemed herself very slightly, I'm glad Kemem wasn't in Numenor when she snuck her father from the chaos. That scene reminds me of all the religious toil that took place during the Tudors, with the Reformation of the church, it all felt very alike. Anyway, I really enjoyed the little we saw of Numenor and hope there's more shown next season. It felt a little disappointing screen-time wise, so maybe s3 can give us a little more!

Alright then. Celebrimbor:

The amount of pain he endures to protect the rings was horrifying to see. I honestly thought they wouldn't show his torture at the hands of Sauron, nor the famous Celebrimbanner. But honestly? Good for you, not shying away from his tragedy of a death, giving him the honour he deserves. Also Charles Edwards? Brilliant work with Charlie Vickers. The writers really went for likening his time spent with Annatar to domestic violence. "Look what you have done to yourself" and all the talk in ep7 about how it was actually Celebrimbor's fault. The torture was horrifying, please feel for me as I had to watch it twice to find the screenshots. I will miss Celebrimbor's character but I am glad the writers gave him the true ending, evidenced the true tragedy of his death.

The shot of the forge is so upsetting. It was once a place of craft and happiness for Celebrimbor, all of Eregion was, but then it was the place of his torture and death.

Isildur:

Not much to say about him to be honest as it felt rather overshadowed by the Estrid romance that, if I'm honest, hasn't really interested me. Like, at all. The moment with Theo was sweet though, as was his acknowledgement of what he had become since his mother's death. I hope we find put what happens to Theo at some point, and that he might reunite with Arondir.

People who can get fucked:

Kemen. Little shit wanting to harm the trees, starve the settlers and this bitch threatened to kill Berek so he deserves nothing more than death. I'm getting angry just typing this so I will say no more.

Adar:

For a sec I was like, why is he so smooth. Then it all went to shit. I still want to know who he is! He was such a good villain but his death was inevitable. He had become too enamoured with killing Sauron, and his children suffered for it. I liked that his death mirrored when he killed Sauron, even the angle was spot on. It saddened me that Glûg was the one who did it, but not wholly unsurprising. His last words were awful and made me feel terribly sorry for him.As a side note, Glûg's death was sad, he had killed his father, found a new master and suffered a cruel death as a result. Also well done effects/makeup team for the transition back into Adar's scars.

Galadriel:

Flipping heck, the whole fight sequence with Sauron made me kick my feet. The part where he shapeshifted was so cool to watch! Also the fight was so dance-like, it was mesmerising. I am enjoying her character becoming wiser in this season, not even tempted this time by Sauron's offers. But she's still the warrior determined to vanquish him, literally crawling across the ground to defeat him. Oh the way I squirmed when Morgoth's stupid crown stabbed her so deeply.

SHE DID AN ELROND. SHE JUMPED. FORESHADOWING *CHEFS KISS*

Just saying, she looked fabulous in the cottage-core dress she wore in Imladris. I really hope the writers continue to make her the wise Galadriel we know in the third age, and also that she gets to fight in battle, of course.

I have so many hopes for her character in s3. Very proud of her not going back to Sauron, that bitch is abusive.

Sauron: dickhead. He killed Celebrimbor. Absolute kettle.

Gil-Galad:

He was great, I liked his joke about Galadriel. They might have redeemed his character a bit, in the last two episodes so I hope we see some more of that!

I love him fully about to rip off an orcs head because it made Elrond sad an dishonoured Celebrimbors work.

Elrond:

Best til last? I just have more to say about his character and also the parallels making my heart sing, so expect many crappy quality snapshots.

Firstly, I'd like to point out how much I loved that he was the one to save Galadriel. He has rejected the Elven rings (with rightful caution) but not enough to leave his friend to perish. He jumped off of a cliff to save his friends from the ring, and then when Galadriel mirrors his actions to stop Sauron getting them, he saves her. He is constantly looking after those he loves, rings or no rings.

This moment here made me sad. Elrond, fresh from the blood on the battlefield, trying to preserve the purity of Celebrimbor's legacy. He even addresses the orcs as they prefer, trying desperately to preserve anything of his friend, who he knows has fallen with Eregion. And they make him watch the burning, as though he was watching the last memory of Celebrimbor dwindle.

I swear, if he and Durin do not reunite in s3 and fix this look on Elrond's face, I will be disappointed. I need the comedy of those two again, help me recover from this season.

PARALELL OF S2 EP1 WHEN GALADRIEL PICKS UP THE RING. Oh I love me a cheeky parallel.

Please praise the cinematographers. They seem to give all the fancy shots to Elrond which is quite funny.

"We barely had the strength to flee" oh my heart fucking broke. Why do they do this to this guy? Let the poor elf retire in Imladris in peace. (Also, imladris?! Yay!) Thank you to the writers and Elrond for finally acknowledging the physical and mental toll of war. It's literally the reason Imladris becomes what it will be, because Elrond saw war and lived it, lived WITH it all his life. Let him retire please.

THIS IS WHAT I MEAN. PRAISE THE CINEMATOGRAPHERS. The look into the camera, the decision he has to make, chefs kiss.

I don't know what to expect to happen with his character next season, but I very much hope it involves Durin. His character arcs over the last 2 seasons have been insane, that's why he's so easy to ramble about, the characterisation and acting of him is phenomenal. Please be kind with them all, Amazon.

Lastly: ARONDIR AND VOROHIL LIVE. Please let Camnir be in Lindon, untouched, making maps and drinking tea.

Overall I really enjoyed the episode. Some of the Harfoots bits as I've said were a little odd but overall a great episode. Loved the parallels in this, the gorgeous shots, representing the mental toll from torture and war and also having the bravery to show that kind of thing on screen! I hope dearly that season 3 will only be better and continue to flesh out these character we love so much.

[starlightshadowsworld]

I got asked earlier what my thoughts are on the Mori is Atsushi’s dad theory. And personally I don’t buy into it (full breakdown is here incase anyone’s curious.)

But I find it an interesting idea and wanted to play around with it. So here’s my concept for what if Mori was Atsushi’s dad.

Mori knew he’d need a successor for when he took over the Port Mafia. It’d be easier for it to be his own heir. But he wasn’t exactly jazzed about having a baby to look after.

As time went on tho Mori did develop a bond with Atsushi. He wouldn’t call it love but he did feel some affection for him. A feeling that definitely grew when Atsushi manifested a powerful ability.

At first as far as Mori knew, it was simply to turn into a tiger. Which in enough itself was impressive. But that Atsushi got into an accident (as babies do) but miraculously his ability seemed to heal his wounds.

Upon closer inspection Mori realises it wasn’t quite regeneration. But reversion, bringing him back to his original state and thus no longer being injured (same analysis Yosano makes in season 1.)

Definitely does has a “of course he has a powerful ability, he is my son after all” moment. And things would’ve stayed mostly peaceful until the Great war. Mori ends up heading off and has enough sense not to bring his 4 year old with him (but bringing an 11 year old is clearly fine.)

And so Atsushi is left in the care of his mother. Mori and her aren’t together, they are amicable and only really interact if it concerns Atsushi. She’s even dating another man, a cute Russian man who offers to look after her son when an emergency comes up.

One he is directly responsible for because ✨surprise ✨ it’s Fyodor. He takes Atsushi to a far away orphanage, weaving a story about a poor child he found in a bin. Atsushi’s mum is horrified when she comes home, and turns out Fyodor was in disguise and using a fake name.

And because there was a whole thing about the northern lights in the Great War causing emp waves (or something), the phone service is shit and Mori doesn’t find out until he returns. He doesn’t exactly take the news well.

It’s then that Natsume reveals to him what the book is and Atsushi’s connection to it. Saying he didn’t say anything prior because he wanted to be completely sure. And had he known this man was after Atsushi he would have. Mori’s not exactly happy but he understands.

This whole thing only fuels his desire to be PM Boss. Knowing he’ll gain the resources to locate his son. Life carries on and Mori sits on the throne of the PM. The only people who knew of his son were Dazai and Chuuya, and Mori tells them at the same time.

When Chuuya is lashing out in Mori’s office about what he’s lost to the old Boss Mori says he understands. He understands how it feels to lose everything you hold dear, but also to rise above and take control. “I had a son. He was stolen from me, and I will rake this earth until I find him alive.”

When Chuuya joins he says something like “when the day comes you find a lead. I will do everything in my power to bring your son back to you.”

That lead would come 6 years later when a bounty for a tiger is given to the PM. And Mori freezes at the sight of its eyes, he’d know those eyes anywhere.

Everyone’s confused as to why the bounty isn’t being taken, except for Chuuya who puts two and two together. Akutagawa is instructed to bring the weretiger back.

But under no circumstances is he to hurt him. This goes out the window once Atsushi joins the Agency and Dazai, while captured purposefully riles up Akutagawa. Because he realised Atsushi’s identity and won’t let Mori take him.

Things carry on, Akutagawa’s on thin fucking ice as is Kouyou but things go on.

Atsushi and Mori still meet in Anne’s Room. Atsushi thinks he looks familiar and Mori pretends he doesn’t know him. And gives him advice, he’s curious to see what his son has grown into. And also doesn’t want their reunion to take place here.

Mori is also more open to a truce even if he doesn’t accept it right away, especially when learning it was Atsushi’s idea.

Atsushi doesn’t learn the truth until Dead Apple. He doesn’t take it well but learns to accept himself. Akutagawa gives him a good tongue lashing for not telling him and the Agency accepts Atsushi.

Atsushi and Mori don’t meet properly until the Cannibalism arc, truly wonderful timing. He feels guilty for worrying about Mori. Speaking of, Mori finally learns Fyodor’s the one who stole Atsushi, after being stabbed by him.

There’s really no easy way to break it to Atsushi that the Agency are going to kill his dad. He’s against it (even more so than in canon) and wants to try and find a different solution. But after the lead is a failure, all Atsushi asks is if he can at least say goodbye.

His friends grant him that at least.

Atsushi walks up to PM headquarters to Chuuya who stops the goons from trying to shoot him.

Atsushi: Do you know who I am?

Chuuya: The Agencies Weretiger?

Atsushi: Not that. It’s…About your Boss.

Chuuya: So you found out. Yeah, what about it?

Atsushi: I want to see him. I don’t know what’ll happen but, I know this might be my last chance.

Chuuya passes a message on, gets the okay and sends a goon with Atsushi to go up. “And kid, for what it’s worth. He’s missed ya.”

Mori is sat up in bed and sends Kouyou out. It’s awkward at first but Mori doesn’t seem phased by it. Asking how Atsushi is and sharing old stories.

Atsushi getting emotional because he was told he was abandoned. Mori firmly remarking that he wasn’t, that Mori scoured the country and than some for him.

That he was missed, dearly.

Atsushi saying that he wished they had more time. And that he’s trying to find a different solution, giving a teary smile when Mori comments he truly did take after him. Mori has no doubt he’ll survive this but simply says he has faith in Atsushi.

If he says theres a solution where everyone survives then there will be. And that when it comes they should get dinner, whatever he likes.

“Do you still love chazuke?”

“It’s my favourite.”

“Mine too. Chazuke it is then.”

Atsushi leaves with hesitation and the assassination plot kicks off and fails. The rest of the plan is carried out and the end has Atsushi and Mori eating chazuke together at a restaurant.

Atsushi knows what kind of man Mori is, but he’s also his dad. He knows he cares in his own way and wouldn’t hurt him. And they are allies currently.

Chuuya goes back for Atsushi during the rescue and finds he’s missing. Which gives Mori a heart attack until he realises Atsushi snuck out with Kyouka and made a deal with Fitzgerald.

Does he wish Atsushi came to him? Yes, though he does understand Atsushi’s reasoning and touched he didn’t want to drag the PM into this (oh dear boy we were involved when you got dragged into it.)

Also doesn’t appreciate Fitzgerald manipulating his son.

Things go on, worlds saved until it isn’t and Mori gets up to greet Atsushi. And for the first time, hugs him. Atsushi breaks down and Mori tells him this will all be fixed.

That damn rat had taken too much from Atsushi, he wouldn’t take anymore. Ability or not, Mori would find a way to kill him if he tried. He couldn’t even be happy at having his son in his rightful home.

Fyodor was going to pay dearly.

[lesbians4armand]

Electra Heart is an Armand album - a thesis

Some of you may remember my preacher's daughter thesis of a very similar nature. Well, I'm back on my bullshit :) Somewhat for @misslovelace who I think will appreciate this

(under a cut as it will be long)

Bubblegum Bitch

Not a song I have ever particularly associated with Armand, If I am honest, so not the strongest of starts, but the more I think, the more it comes together. It's a very Amadeo song, really.

"Got a figure like a pinup, got a figure like a doll, don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all"

So much of Armand's self worth is so directly tied to his outward appearance and perceived beauty, that he is so used to playing into it, he simply doesn't care as much any more, he stopped caring even when he was mortal.

"I'm the girl you'd die for"

More than you'd know it. Many have.

"I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out, cause that's what young love is all about"

Knowing his beauty and effect on other men, Amadeo played into it, intentionally seeking out men who desired his youth and beauty as a distraction, only to cast them off. Of course this ends badly for him in the books as it eventually leads to his murder.

Primadonna

This song I don't have a lyric breakdown for as I don't think it fits Armand lyric-for-lyric, but more as a whole, his deep desire to be loved, to be adored, to be given everything, then his misery hidden not so far from the surface beneath. And you know he'd do anything for what he wants, even if it ruins him.

Lies

The first of the darker songs of the album, and immediately a deeply Armand song. I find myself debating what period of his life it fits the best, and I keep coming back to book-loumand's relationship.

"You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?"

Armand wants so much to be loved, to be desired more that superficially. Everyone wants him for what they can take, nobody wants him for what he is. When he meets Louis, he thinks maybe he will be, and in a way he is, they do love each other, but still not as Armand wants. louis is cold, distant, yearning for Lestat, who also brushed him off. What's the use in playing this game?

"Why don't we just pretend? Lies, don't wanna know"

Veering back into show loumand, why don't they just pretend? Armand lies and manipulates so they can pretend that they are happy together and that Armand did not kill Louis daughter and push Lois to attempted suicide.

"Can't let you go, can't let you go"

What is says there, the only thing Armand dreads more than not being loved is being entirely alone. He can't let Louis go even through all of this, as he cannot be alone, he can't.

"I just want it to be perfect, to believe it's all been worth the fight"

Again, if Armand crafts it to his perfections, maybe he will convince himself he is alright as he is, that is is worth everything he is done and that was done to him.

Homewrecker

Again, not one I have much lyrical breakdown on I'm afraid, however it does give me a strong vibe of both Armand's last mortal years in Venice as Amadeo, and also his relationship with Lestat. This one I just have to mentally transmit into your mind. Do you get it?

Starring Role

Okayyy I have a lot for this one. One of the loumand songs of all time, to me. Lets go.

"You're hard to hug, tough to talk to, and I never fall asleep / when you're in my bed, all you give me is a heartbeat"

I am not a loumand bed death truther, however I am a loumand zero emotional intimacy truther. There were whips and chains of all sorts on their walls, but in bed they sit so far apart, barely speaking.

"I've turned into a statue, and it makes me feel depressed/ cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed"

Much the same as my previous comment, but the statue lyric reminds me so much of Armand as Rashid, so still and silent in the corner of the room during s1.

"You don't love me, big fucking deal / I'll never tell you how I feel / You don't love me, not a big deal, I'll never tell you how I feel"

Again and again, lack of emotional intimacy, lack of any communication, lack of real desire.

"It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not a starring role in someone else's heart"

From what I have said, you may be surprised by this, but I do believe Louis and Armand loved each other, I do. I think they'll love each other again, this is part of the tragedy, the horror. The love was there. What I don't believe, is that Armand was the love of Louis' life, and he knew that. He was not the "starring role," so to say, as he wanted to be. He may have wanted Louis more than anyone in the world, but Louis didn't feel the same, though he did love Armand, it was not enough for him, it felt like a joke, a cruelty. This is of course what causes Armand betrayal in Paris. Tragedy after tragedy.

"Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control / Cause really I adore you, and I can't leave you alone"

Armand patterns of neglect and abuse to find power he wishes for as he feels it is the only way to have any power combined with his consistent ned to never be alone are a horrifying combination. This lyric describes perfectly to me Armand's treatment of Louis after his attempt in 1973, his neglect so Louis stayed weak and under his command because he would not let him leave him, in any way.

"You're like my dad, you'd get on well, I send my best regards from hell"

This is interesting, as I do not believe that Louis actually is like Marius in any way despite the "Maitre" power play the pair had happening. It is at its core, a badly communicated and deeply fucked up projection from Armand to be a victim again, to want Louis to be like Marius so that he feels loved again in the way he sees love, but also to explain why he does what he does to Louis. They would not get on well, but Armand wants them to. It's all projection.

"I wait for you to open up, to give yourself to me / But nothing's ever gonna give, I'll never set you free"

He waits and waits to be the one that Louis wants, truly wants not just out of spite, but realises it won't happen and resolves to simply bearing, and making sure Louis can't leave him anyway, trapping them both in this prison. He'll never set them free, he's thrown the key away. Until Daniel finds it, of course.

The State of Dreaming

I see TSoD as a very TDV-era Armand song, post-Lestat and pre-Louis. Of course, "my life is a play" is a very obvious lyric, but the entire vibe of the song as a dark dreamlike state of performance you cannot escape is so fitting for Armand's years in a theatre cult coven.

Power & Control

Lesmand. I don't have any more to say here. It's lesmand.

Living Dead

This one is too obvious I fear but I'll mention it anyway. He is. Literally.

Teen Idle

Ah, where to start. Every troubled teen's anthem, a very Armand (particularly bookmand) song.

"I wanna be a bottle blonde, I don't know why but I feel conned / I wnna be an idle teen, I wish I hadn't been so clean"

The blondeness here is metaphorical I think, metaphorical for a sort of beauty that is intention, wanted, enhanced, something that you create, not something cursed to you. Armand feels conned by his beauty, something desired and coveted making many things worse for him, more difficult, causing so much pain.

He wants to be an idle teen, to to have been perhaps. Not as he was, as Amadeo was, so... busy, with so much, so many. Or maybe he wished he had been more so, less clean, less quick, messier. Maybe that would have spared him pain too.

"I wanna stay inside all day, I want the world to go away"

Easy thing to say as a vampire, especially an eternally teenage one.

"I want blood, guts and chocolate cake, I want to be a real fake"

He wants indulgent things, vampiric and human, anything he can get.

"Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible"

Armand's religious backstory, what more can I say. His loss of faith and difficulties with it are laid so clear here.

"The pretty lies, the ugly truth"

What more is there to Armand?

"The day has come where I have died, only to find I've come alive"

A teenager, forever. Dead, perfect.

"I wanna be a virgin pure, a 21st Century whore / I want back my virginity, so I can feel infinity"

I've been sitting here for minutes thinking of what I can say about this but its all in the lyrics. You already know.

"I wanna drink until I ache, I wanna make a big mistake, I want blood guts and angel cake"

Drinking until he aches has a double meaning to me, both his desire for blood as a vampire and for alcohol as mortal. The big mistake is either seducing Lord Harlech, or wishing to be a vampire in the first place. Then of course, another desire for blood, this time with angel cake. He was always describes as an angel, not quite human any way anyone looked.

"Adolescence didn't make sense, a little loss of innocence, the ugly years of being a fool, ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

This just sums up Amadeo. It does.

Valley of the Dolls

This is where I move heavy into HC material, especially the hc that Armand suffers from some form of dissociative disorder, making Armand, Amadeo and Arun/Andrei distinct alters. The lyrics "living with identities that do not belong to me," and "pick a personality for free, when you feel like nobody" fit this extraordinarily well.

Hypocrates

I see this song as a very good explanation of my interpretation of Armand and Marius's relationship. Very good.

"You're the lonely, one and only, body in the world / Who can make me, who can break me down into a young girl"

Marius is, in many ways, the only one who holds any power over Armand on a personal level, for so many reasons, but this just brings up the part where Armand describes himself as being afraid of Marius. He still makes him feel like a mortal boy in his service again.

"I know you only want to own me, and that's the kind of love you show me / You tell me one thing and do another, keep all your secrets undercover"

This just sums it up to me. He does just want to own him, that is the only love being shown.

Fear and Loathing

"I lived a lot of different lives / Been different people many times"

Armand is consistently whoever those around him want him to be, he has never truly been his own person. Every new person, every lover he asks the same thing he asks Louis "who am I?", he creates a new life in his death.

"I lived my life in bitterness / And filled my heart with emptiness"

Armand learned, especially from the Children of Darkness, to not find pleasure or goodness in anything, especially not himself. He does not value himself or others, he is nihilistic quite constantly.

"Not everyone is out to screw you over / Maybe, yeah, just maybe, they just want to get to know you"

One thing I believe is intrinsic to Armand and his relationships with others is his fundamental lack of trust in them. He does not trust that they won't hurt him, they won't leave him, s he hurts them or himself before they can, makes them leave before they can choose to, before they can grow bored or fed up with him. He doesn't trust that anyone has good intentions, that ever actually love him.

"Got different people inside my head / I wonder which one that they like best"

Again, see Valley of the Dolls. I do see Arun, Amadeo and Armand as separate identities fighting to be the "real" one in a bid to keep safe if he can make others like them the most.

"And when the time comes along and the lights run out / I know a light will burn on when they blow me out"

There is one thing that Armand does very well, and it is endure. This is about him enduring. He will always burn on.

"Don't wanna be completely faithless, completely faithless"

Faith and religion are so SO important to Armand as a character, his belief in a higher power either blessing him or cursing him, but he cannot function without. He wants so much to hold some faith in what has happened to him, what continues to happen, that it is supposed to be in some way. It's a guide for him, if nothing else.

(Okay here I am going to skip How To Be A Heartbreaker as I do think it is the one song that does not fit, though at the same time Ithink amadeo would have loved it so shout out)

Radioactive

"My heart is nuclear / Love is all that I fear"

Would Armand know love if he saw it, if he experienced it? Or would he think it another trick, a play to gain something as it has always been to him. He fears love as much as he craves it as I doubt he even understands it. But his heart, his love is a powerful thing, a dangerous thing.

Sex Yeah

"Nothing is provocative anymore, even for kids"

'No one though children innocent of sensuous pleasures' :/

"All my life I've tried to hide what history has given me"

The ideas of history are really really interesting in this sound wrt Armand because of how much of his history is informed by sexuality. It's at every turn, every fight, every moment of his past and it is his legacy in many ways, take the painting. But what if he could fight that, could hide it, be something more, reclaim his personhood without forfeiting his sexuality. Maybe he has the time to, and has seen the culture change in so many ways.

Buy The Stars

I have very similar feelings to Hypocrates with this song, and I think it's similar in meaning when thinking of Armand too. Essentially I see this song as a representation of love as possession, a sort of love Armand had with Marius, and how owning and giving is not loving or knowing someone.

E.V.O.L

Devil's Minion song. So DM. "It only takes two lonely people to fuck love up and make it evil / It only takes a drop of evil to fuck up two beautiful people"

[livelaughlovesubs]

I read this from yours https://www.tumblr.com/livelaughlovesubs/743492538930954240/pitiful-thing?source=share

And i couldn't help reading it due to your amazing writing even if im not really into sadism-, anyway can we have more raphael?a part 2 but can you make it fluffy/sweet if its okay? Thank you!

Hey hey! Thank you for reading it :D and like always, I’m sorry it took so long… anyway, here it is :>

How pitiful

Part one!

Raphael x reader

Word count: 5.9k

This includes: triggering content, angst (aftermath from the first part), mental breakdown? Very toxic, at the end there’s fluff (happy end?), reader is still the same (very selfish)

Okay so, I wanted to make this like fluffy and sweet, and I didn’t manage to do that. I’M SORRY. Cuz I had too many ideas and so the fluff part would only be at the end. Sometimes there are small pieces of it throughout the story, but yea. I didn’t want to stop in the middle of it and make a third part cuz then you wouldn’t get the fluff you wanted, so I’m sorry that you had to wait this long, even then it’s more angst than fluff I’m sorry.

After a while, the corrosive smell started to bother you. Your hands were dyed completely red now. They were sticky and had feathers stuck to them, the blood of the male dried too. For a moment, it felt like you had a hangover. The things you did in the last few hours and the emotions you felt were slowly fading away, leaving nothing but desire behind. All you remembered was a vivid dream akin experience, one where you got to finally feel alive after falling down this deep abyss. The sudden change in environment seems to have influenced you more than you imagined. How you yearned for the screams and cries of him. It has only been a few minutes, yet that feeling, the rush of adrenaline started to disappear like a childhood memory. You didn’t want to forget it, you wanted to keep it sealed within you forever.

Time was passing by like usual, yet for some reason you didn’t seem responsive, as if you weren’t really there. As if you were floating in space, every nerve in your body turned off and your senses dulled. You couldn’t really acknowledge your surroundings, simply at the wall, contemplating and thinking about whatever you did remember. Everything that happened was being replayed in your head like a show, sadly the graphic setting was low and everything was a blur. Except for those crimson eyes of him.

The different expressions his eyes bore were mesmerising, enough to leave its imprint on you. How the once fierce look he owned turned into one of uncertainties, of doubt and fear. Your room looked like the aftermath of a battle. Luckily for you it was at a hotel, so you wouldn’t need to clean it. This wasn’t earth, it wouldn’t matter if the owner sees all of this, the evident of your action, the proof of your true desires. You felt empty again, like the fulfilment you felt before was ran out. The hand on the back of his head moved to his cheeks, moving his face backwards. He has been resting his chin in the crook of your neck the entire time without making a single sound, slowly it got suspicious.

Raphael was breathing very weakly and shallow, apparently he also got a nosebleed. “Hey, wake up.” You muttered, rubbing his cheeks gently. His pale face had blood stains, but his eyes were still closed. Right now he looked very vulnerable, so helpless as if he was someone that needed protection. At the same time he also appeared like an innocent child in your eyes, one that’s been depraved of love. How pitiful he is, being cast aside by his creator and now stuck in the claws of a monster. Since you wore him out a lot, you let him sleep. It didn’t matter if you knew nothing about the anatomy of an angel, if one is exhausted they need to take a break. You laid him down onto the humid mattress before you got up to go to the bathroom.

Now that you cleaned yourself up and got a towel, you started to clean the still asleep male too, wiping the excessive body fluids of him away. It was a little disturbing considering you were the cause of all of this, but you could manage. When you saw the two holes on his belly, where his piercings have been, you gaged a little. The scene turned out to be a bit more grotesque than you remembered. Speaking of memories, it was strange how you couldn’t recall what happened very clearly. After all, it was just happened, as if you weren’t thinking clearly when you did all that. You didn’t regret it though, because if there’s one thing you remembered, then it’s that you loved every second of it. Every action to the words you spoke, you knew you enjoyed yourself a lot. Enough to make you want to go for a second round.

Eventually you finished wiping him, sitting down next to Raphael again. Still so quiet, this wasn’t normal. Your first thought was that he fell asleep, though upon further inspection his face was starting to get pale. Soon you realised that he passed out and sighed, “…not good.” It looked like he lost his consciousness, probably due to the excessive amount of blood he lost. One glance was all you needed to know your hypothesis was right. In the end, you did rip his wings off, not to mention how the bed was now akin to the red carpet. A stressed out groan left you, why were thing always so difficult. Aftercare is great and all, but what should you do if he needs immediate treatment? It’s not like you can carry him all the way to paradise lost. Will today be the day you kill someone for the first time?

Suddenly the door to your hotel room crashed down, and a group of devils barged in. These devils, they really know no manners. Though you were also glad to some degree, because you saw Satan, sitri, and Marbas. “Y/n!” The devil with the white hair ran towards you, but he stopped after taking three steps. Sitri, who was pushing Marbas, followed his king and stopped right next to him. “Solomon, what happened?” That devil asked, his voice was filled with confusion. They must be shocked to see the state the room is in, not to mention Raphael. “I’ll tell you later. Marbas, can you help this guy here? He’s lost a lot of blood.” You looked calm, terrifyingly so, no panic could be spotted in your voice nor did you have a fast heartbeat. “I’ll see what I can do.” Marbas answered after a bit and got out of his binds. When he got close enough to recognise who that was, he hesitated. He still started treating him afterwards, despite the identity of the patient.

“Satan, why are you here?” In all honesty, you didn’t care, and you had a vague idea how they knew your location, but you didn’t want to answer their questions. You weren’t in the mood to right now. “When you disappeared so suddenly, everyone got worried. Then sitri found you.” Nothing you couldn’t guess yourself. “And? Why’s Marbas here?” This time, the devil with the blue hair spoke up, “I heard two heartbeats, and I recognised that the other one was an angel. That’s why.” So they thought you got beaten up or injured, huh, if that’s the case they are pretty late for a rescue operation. “What about you tell us your side of the story now?” It seems like you won’t be able to get out of this one. You noticed that he gritted his teeth again, one look was enough to tell he wasn’t happy. “Well, you see…” “y/n, your majesty Satan and sitri. I’m done, I stopped the bleeding and treated his injuries. Though this won’t be enough, we’ll need to bring him to paradise lost.” In the nick of time Marbas reported his observations and actions, in contrary to what you predicted, you were able to dodge the questions again.

“Why do we need to go all the way there, won’t the hospital in Gehenna suffice?” Satan scoffed, he was getting more furious by the second. First your disappearance, now all the hassle for an enemy. “Because… I believe only his majesty lucifer and gamigin knows how to properly treat him.” Just as Satan was about to inquire about the former seraphim’s injuries, you barged in, “All right, we don’t have much time, no? Shouldn’t we be on the way?” Everything was taking too long, so you interrupted their little small talk and rushed them. In addition, you also walked over to the bed, picking up the white jacket that belonged to his outfit and wrapped him in it. Sitri seems to have finally caught on and helped you carrying him. This was going to be a long night. It was so much hassle just to keep someone alive, maybe you should let him die instead? Was it because of your hardened personality that you weren’t sorry for him, that you didn’t feel any remorse?

It’s been three weeks since Raphael got taken in at the hospital of paradise lost. Your life hasn’t changed much, in fact it reversed back to how it was before your second meeting with him. Today, while you were visiting him, the sleeping beauty finally opened his eyes. It did caught you off guard, so you started to call for the doctor. “You’re [—]. Ah, lucifer, where’s [——]?” His view was blurry, it was like watching black paint spread on a clean paper. Furthermore his head was hurting a lot, as if he had been on a carousel for too long. It was to the point he couldn’t even register your voice properly. “…where…?” The man uttered, it was more like a groan of pain than words. He tried to cover his eyes with his hand due to how bright it was, that’s when he noticed an IV stuck to his arm. “You [—] hospital, if you [——] noticed.” It was still difficult to understand you, but it got better the more he tried. “…is that you, y/n?” Raphael asked and his hand reached out to you, his body acted before he could think about it. You held his hand and intertwined your fingers, then you squeezed his hand. “Yes.” He flinched at that, a little surprised at this sudden gentleness coming from you. This wasn’t how you were like last time, but he didn’t hate it.

A few minutes later lucifer also came into the room, the patient froze upon seeing his former colleague, he also hold your hand more firmly. You didn’t need two brain cells to know they had something to say to each other, so you got up to leave the room. When you stopped holding his hand, he tensed up again, in the end he eventually let go. Were you overthinking it or was he acting differently than before? Nonetheless, you went out to get some food for him. With a bit of discussing and arguing, you got Satan to give you permission to keep him. He did almost die because of you, with that being said you also thought he’d be more wary of you. In the end, you were proven wrong. For the time being you were going to be nice to him, so that he will want to stay, it’d be no good if he runs away. It’s been three weeks now, three weeks of pure boredom. After all that torturous wait, you finally felt an ounce of excitement.

When you got back to his resting place with a bag of to go food, you met lucifer who was just coming out of the room. They must have had a very long talk, was what you thought. You weren’t really curious about what they talked about though, which is why you asked him instead, “can he get out today? He looks healthy enough.” To your surprise the male disagreed, explaining, “he lost his wings, he’ll need physiotherapy.” The confusion was written all over your face like the front cover of a magazine, you said with an irritated tone, “you mean he can’t walk?” “Not good at best.” You should trust the words of a doctor, especially him who has more experience than you, yet you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. “But, it’s his wings he lost. He always walked without showing them.” Lucifer was kingly enough to explain it to you, how much patience he must have, “not showing them and not having them are two different things. He’s been used to having wings it for as long as he lived, this sudden change will cause his body to lose balance, because…” he has too much patience for sure, normally you though he was a quiet guy, though it looks like he can talk a lot if it’s his field. Great, now you had to listen to him lecture you about angel anatomy.

A while later buer called for lucifer, he had something to take care of and left you alone. You on the other hand was standing in front of the patient room now, still holding the now cold bag. So he has to stay here for a month, and then continuously visit it to get better. Is this was you want? Slowly your thoughts were getting too complicated, which is why you stepped inside. “You are back.” You saw raphael turn his head towards you. How pitiful he looked, all bedridden like this. “Yea, are you hungry?” That was a very unnecessary question, really, you didn’t know why you just wasted your breath with that one. Nevertheless you got closer and sat down on the chair next to him, then opened the bag and let him look inside. Maybe you should have used the microwave first, if there was one that is. “It’s all for you.” You added, in case he misunderstands anything. His hand reached out to your direction, though instead of the food he grabbed your hand. “…” “…?” This was bizarre to say the least, he didn’t make any sense. Both of you stayed silent, a few minutes felt like days. Why did he do that? You wondered, but before you could ask he let go of your hand again and reached inside the bag. “Thanks.” The male whispered, then bit into his food.

It was awkward, none of you dared to say something about the new promises between you two. The situation already escalated to the point where you couldn’t go back, guess you had to keep your word then. At some point, after he finished his meal, he just stared at his hands clenching the blankets. It looked like he was deep in thoughts, maybe even regretting ever meeting you. Was what happened only a mistake done in the heat of the moment? Were you going to tell him, ‘sorry, I didn’t mean to’ and then leave? After taking everything from him? That’s what he was contemplating. He can’t return to heaven without his wings, not that he exactly wants to go back, but if hell doesn’t have a place for him where can he go to? Your expression was neutral, too calm even, he couldn’t read you.

It was frustrating, you didn’t get any backlash from it, yet his life had turned upside down. Out of nowhere he reached out to you again and grabbed you by your collar, “You have to take responsibility, you can’t leave me now.” The male threatened you, getting really close to your face. Despite his deep voice, you saw the fear in his eyes, like a stormy night filled with thunder. He moved up too fast, as well as using too much strength, causing him to lose balance and fall over, crashing into your arms with his upper body. This wasn’t anything too dangerous, since you managed to catch him and prevent the fall of you two. It still hurt a little, because his fingers were gripping your shoulders really tight.

“Be careful now.” You said, pulling him in to hug him tightly, watching him tremble a little. This is weird, it wasn’t a natural reaction, so you questioned, “What’s wrong?” “I can’t…” “What?” He was acting strange, this was starting to make you feel uneasy too. Suddenly you hugged you back, holding onto you while saying, “You can’t leave me, don’t leave, never again. You made me like this, you have to take responsibility. Please, please, don’t abandon me too.” His eyes were unfocused, hieratic and wild, he panted while uttering those words like a prayer. The aspect that confused you the most was his expression, an unsettling, forced smile as he clung to you, repeating those phrases like a madman, “don’t leave, I can’t afford it now, don’t leave me.”

You stroked his hair and tried to reassure him, his voice was shaking the entire time. Has he finally gone crazy now? “as long as you behave good, I won’t leave. I’d never leave. I’m right here, Raphael, I’m right here.” It doesn’t matter if he is delusional or not, it’s easier this way. What a twisted path fate has planned out for him, it seems like no matter which turn he takes, he’ll always end up miserable. Even so he just adores when you hold him, when you make his life worth living by planting the seed of love within him. Just a few words that doesn’t even need to be true are enough to wrap him around your finger. You were no good for him, this much was clear from the beginning. Like the deadliest drug, giving him the illusion of temporal happiness, all while slowly rotting him from the inside. He can’t get out of this, he doesn’t want to get out, as long as you are alive he’ll keep using this drug, begging you for more. You can’t leave now, and he’ll make sure it stays like this forever.

Soon your visiting time was over, it was the break of dawn and you had to go home. You wanted to leave and already got up from your seat, he then asked, “where are you going?” “I’m going home, you have to stay here for a while.” Something was amiss again, the atmosphere got heavier. His eyes widened and you saw him getting uncomfortable, the change was so drastically like a light switch. “Take me with you,” Raphael demanded. “What?” This surprised you now. “I want to go with you.” He repeated his words once again, after hearing it for the second time you were still bewildered.

You’d like to say you saw determination in his eyes, but you only saw suspicion and anxiety. “If you want to, but lucifer said…” You abruptly stopped mid sentence, before adding, “you know what, let’s just leave together.” Then you gave him a hand. He tried to stand up, one step after another and hold your hand firmly. Out of nowhere he fell forwards, crashing into you again. Just like last time you managed to grab him and prevent the fall. “Ugh.” The boy yelped a little, and with your help, he managed to get back on his feet. Why was his balance so off, you thought, before you remembered the words of lucifer. To think losing his wing would have such an impact on him, you didn’t imagine it’d be this bad.

But standing alone wasn’t enough. You took a few steps back, and waited for him to follow you. When he did, he instantly fell over again. This time you weren’t there to catch him, and he crashed onto the floor. “Ah..” it wasn’t really painful, considering what he went through, but it scared him. He couldn’t walk like before anymore and flying was definitely out of the question. Even if he knew it will get better, this shock still had a physiological effect on him. Was this truly his fate, the path his lord has chosen for him? Will he find the affection he never got once he reached the end of this? He stared back to his legs, cursing his pathetic state under his breath, why was everything so hard?

You on the other hand was mesmerised, those vulnerable and desperate actions of his were making forgotten emotions float up to the surface again. These were the feelings you missed for three weeks, life’s been so boring without him like the main component was missing. The way he looked so crude was making your heart pound. You wanted him, so bad it hurt. When he looked up to you, he met your gaze, the face you made was indescribable. Was it joy, want, or anger? It made him anxious. An unfamiliar place without anyone he can trust. He killed may devils, who knows when one of them would attack him? His helplessness was causing him to depend on you more and more. “Get up, here.” Once again you reached your hand out to him, and pulled him up. With you here to help him keep balance, he was able to move more precisely.

The two of you didn’t do anything dramatic, simply walking out of the hospital hand in hand. Even if you walked pass other devils, they didn’t dare to say anything. You were the descendant of Solomon, and he was the infamous red angel. Was. Sometimes he would trip a little and lean forward, but you always managed to keep him on his feet. It felt like escorting someone who was drunk. Soon you two got out of the hospital and you called for a taxi, then you opened the door and pushed him inside. Raphael held your hand the entire time, unwilling to let go even for a moment. And with that, you two were making your way back to Gehenna.

Now you’ve done it, you really broke out of the hospital. It was way less dramatic than you thought, even so it left a bad taste in your mouth. You could still turn back and act like all of this never happened, should you? Then you looked over to the man sitting next to you in the car, he was looking out of the window, observing hell. “How do you feel, Raphael? You only woke up today after all.” He flinched at your words, then turned around. “I’m fine, I don’t need to go back.” Silence, a pretty awkward one at that. You still haven’t figured out how you should treat him, just the thought that he didn’t feel any resentment towards you was weird. On one hand you wanted to talk about it, on the other hand you didn’t know if it was the right time to do so. Suddenly Raphael spoke up again, “can I hold your hand?” He’s been like that all day, wanting to do such an innocent act with you, as if you didn’t turn his life upside down. It wouldn’t hurt to agree, so you held your hand out. The male was still looking out the window, in addition to that he was also holding your hand now. The rest of the ride went by like this, quietly and peacefully.

Once you two arrived in Gehenna, you helped him get out of the car. He stumbled a little but he was able to walk, though sometimes he would lose his footing and stray off. With heavy steps you two managed to get to your room. The devils who saw you two didn’t stop you, in such instances it was better to stay curious than knowing somehting they shouldn’t. You two had to go up the stairs to reach your destination, that was fun. Really fun. After he arrived in your room, you immediately made him sit down on your bed. He panted a little, already tired, probably because he didn’t move for the past few weeks. Satan did allow him to stay here, but you weren’t sure if he had an own room yet, so you suggested, “You can stay here for the time being, until I get you a separate room.” “…can it be the one next to yours then?” He asked, it was more like a condition though. “I’ll see what I can do.” “Then i don’t mind staying here.” That wasn’t something he gets to decide. You didn’t know what to think about sharing your privacy like this, since you didn’t have an answer yet, you changed the topic.

“Raphael, how do you feel?” “I answered you already, I’m fine,” he sounded mildly annoyed. “Yea, alright. Then what you are thinking?” “What I am thinking? Let’s see.” Raphael stretched himself on your bed, while you stood in front of him. “I can still remember the pain very well. Don get me wrong, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I don’t need it.” The male started explaining, his expression was serious and nonchalant. Then he trailed off, “huh, my chest feels tight whenever you aren’t here, if I can’t make sure you are with me my air gets snapped off. Like someone is ripping my heart out of my chest by force.” You weren’t sure what to do with these information, based on what you understood it seems like he has a few screws loose. “And?” “And it aches, it hurts. I can’t stand the idea of being separated from you.” He fumbled with his sleeves, but he wasn’t uncomfortable with sharing his thoughts.

Suddenly, out of nowhere he raised his voice, those red eyes of his showed an insatiable hunger in them, a need that can’t be satisfied. He grabbed your leg and pleaded, “don’t hurt me, you can hurt my body but don’t hurt me. Don’t leave me on my own, okay?” It’d be an understatement to say you were caught off guard by his sudden touch. Instead of replying him, you tried to take a few steps backwards, but he held onto you tightly. “Please.” His voice echoed through the room, it kind of freaked you out. In the end you got closer to him, now only inches away from the boy. This seems to satisfy him to some amount and he continued, “my neck, hah…it feels like a hand is choking me. It’s snapping my air off. Choke me please, take this feeling away.” “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t keep your bewilderedness hidden anymore, trying hard to understand the current situation.

“You are the only thing I have left. It’s only fair if I’m the only one in yours too. I’ll be good, I’ll be obedient, please tell me you need me like how I need you.” His hands grabbed your hips, fingers digging into your waist. “Ugh! Wait a second…” “I gave you what you wanted, because of you I ended up like this, don’t you see how good I’ve been to you?” This was getting uncomfortable, you weren’t exacltly scared for your life, rather you were concerned about the situation. Was this the consequences of your actions? “Raphael, calm the fuck down!” You grabbed his arms, trying to yank them away. It was starting to hurt, his nails were scratching you. Even admits all of this you noticed the flickering of his eyes, how his hands trembled and how he was shaking.

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you adore me? Isn’t that why you did all of this? Please tell me it’s true, don’t tell me otherwise. I don’t care if you have to lie. I didn’t do all of that for you to abandon me. Aren’t I the only one who would go this far for you? Tell me, tell me…! Please. I can’t, I can’t breathe. Y/n. Tell me you love me, please, give me everything you have. This agonising pain is too much to bear. Numb those feelings down until i am a shell of what I used to be. You can take anything from me, even if it’s my eyes. It hurts, it pains, help me, please, I’m begging. I think I’m going mad, y/n, have I made the wrong choice? All of this ache is driving me insane, you are my only escape now. Take it all away, make it go away. Is there no end to my suffering?”

His emotions just exploded, everything was all over the place. He also started crying at the same time as well as shaking you back and forth. Anger, doubt and fear filled him up to the rim. There was only so much he could take, and today was his snapping point. Your hand moved first, slapping him across the face, soon it turned red. His little breakdown was going too far and you weren’t nice enough to deal with it. “Fuck I told you to calm down, what are you doing, spouting one nonsense after another?” It’s rare for you to get this angry. You’ve learned to have a lot of patience after coming to hell but this man was pushing you out of your comfort zone. “I’m not good enough. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I can do better.” For some reason you highly doubted it, I mean just listen to what bullshit he was spouting. “Keep your hand on me, hurt me all you want. I’ll keep you entertained, I can be perfection for you.” The stare he gave you was serious, his tears rolled down his cheek with no purpose. Once again he started yapping about some hallucinations and fantasies he had in his brain.

He felt awful. There was no other way to describe it. Everything hurt, there wasn’t anything worth living for but you. If you left now who knows what he’ll do. Being casted aside all this time made him more insecure than he expected. Like a small bunny that got separated from its mother, walking into the wolfs den without a single clue. All that’s left for him was to clench onto any trace of love he could get. With god gone now, he truly had nothing left to lose, he needed nothing but your affection. This wasn’t about you, this wasn’t about him neither. It was about his obsession with finally feeling loved by his creator. For once he wants to be important to someone, to be useful and seen.

This need of his has been building up for centuries, and now he finally gave in to it. God was it pathetic. The title angel should have never been given to the likes of him, he truly was the one mistake of god. Despite all that you couldn’t deny it, the way he panicked was a little cute. It made your stomach feel butterflies, or was it something? The knowledge that all of this was your work made you feel proud. What a wise decision it was to leave with him today, when he’s still the most unstable. Getting thrown into an unfamiliar environment, meeting all kinds of people that can kill you. Maybe you two were pretty similar after all.

You were planning on being nice to him, you really were, but not anymore after all this drama he caused. “Raphael what are you talking about? You don’t get to decide who I’m seeing!” The words that felt from your lips were like blades stabbing his chest, the filter you had was turned off now. “Be grateful, that someone like me is taking care of something so filthy like you! You know it yourself, you are miserable and vulgar, it’s so selfish of you to want to keep me to yourself.” If he was going to let himself run wild like that, he also had to expect some consequences. The face he pulled was priceless, truly youthful greatest joy now. Tears dropped down his cheeks, you were enjoying yourself again, just like three weeks ago. Yes, this was the feeling you desperately missed.

“Such a pathetic being like you is destined to end up like this. Giving yourself up for me, isn’t it only natural? God favours me and not you.” That was a statement you highly doubted, since you weren’t exactly happy about being down here. Nonetheless, you said it just to make your little dove more miserable. Then you cupped his red and warm face, it was completely drenched in his tears now. His eyes looked tired, he seems to be so done with everything, so you cooed at him, “how pitiful you look…If I own you, you will finally find a purpose in that worthless life of yours again. If you give me your everything, naturally I’ll give you something worthy of it too. You can have an ounce of my affection, isn’t it great? Such a high reward for something like you!”

This was inexplainable, whenever it came to him you were like a different person. Ruining him, breaking him, hurting him, all of this became your favourite hobby. You aren’t a sadist, you are only like this with him! You are a good person, you are saving everyone in hell! It seems even you has lost your mind now. How are you going to return to earth with this mindset? The two of you were a match made from the depths of hell, a place not even god dared to enter. A truly beautiful and twisted bridge full of thorns. Instead of fighting together you made him clear the way for you, only to push him into the deadly river afterwards. Why you’d go this far? Honestly you didn’t have a good reason, it was all done for the sake of your enjoyment. “You aren’t enough Raphael, you are never enough.” A soft smile appeared on your face as you chuckled. This was fulfilling, but that blackhole inside you ached for more. “I’m so sorry Raphael, that you were born, and that you have to keep living. I’m begging you, please be lonely forever. Do it for me?”

Raphael was sobbing quietly, yet his features didn’t tell he was sad, instead relief was written all over his face. He didn’t know why, but you were dazzling right now. When you touched him it felt like the hand of god, you were his replacement for his lord. “I know it hurts, it will only get worse from here on, but soon you’ll be craving the pain.” You whispered, wiping his tears away with tender movements. “Please endure all of this and live miserable with me for a long time.” Stay with you, forever, that was all he heard. He filtered the words out he didn’t want to hear, then he gave you a meek smile. How adorable, so damn cute you won’t ever let go of him. You caressed his cheeks from above, smiling back at him. No one could understand the relationship of you two, it was something truly unique and wonderful. Who would have thought that the bunny and the wolf ended up together?

“y/n, do you love me?” Raphael asked, it looks like he finally calmed down. How strange that such words were able to help him. Or it broke him more, who knows. You had to think about what to say, the feelings you experienced when you were with him, the ache you felt and how you wanted to do so many things to him. After a few moments, you eventually came to the conclusion this must be love. Love makes one crazy, if this isn’t love, then what is it? It would mean it was something much more sinister, and that didn’t have a nice sound to it. Maybe it was just a mutual reliance, each one takes something from the other they desperately need while hurting all the involved parties as they do. Even if that was the truth, you couldn’t care less. All you wanted to do was to hold him while he repeats the words, ‘I’m yours’. You kissed his forehead, then answered with a ‘yes’. He pulled you towards him and both of you fell onto the bed, it bounced a little due to your weights. Then, Raphael hugged you tightly as he whispered, “I’m glad. I love you too.”

[galaxy-fleur]

I hope it's okay to drop this here, since i've been seeing it pop up alot in this fandom sooo here goes

What kinda dad do you think Leon would be like? Parent in general and all that wonderful jazz :D

Also it seems to be quite popular headcanon that he'd be a girl dad, i can see the appeal and i find it super cute lol

Girl dad Leon, my beloved... I'm gonna be writing this with post-Death Island Leon in mind, since that's the best way I can imagine him being a father in my mind!

Leon is a family man at heart, it's nice to imagine him having the freedom to retire and build a simple, comfortable life he deserves. It definitely wouldn't be easy to adapt into a much simpler lifestyle after the one he's known practically all of his life at that point, and there will be challenges associated with that process, but it'll all be worth it in the end. The idea of actually starting a family of his own was always more of a distant idea than anything else for him. Something way on the back of his mind that he never once considered becoming an actual reality he could achieve in his lifetime.

After all... no kid deserves a father that's not only absent for long stretches of time, but also poses a danger to them due to his occupation. Not to mention his drinking problem. The idea of burdening someone with having to raise a kid practically alone, all while also having that same kid at constant risk of kidnapping or something even worse happening to them because of their association with him... Leon wouldn't want to inflict that upon anyone. It wouldn't be fair of him at all, regardless of his own selfish desires.

But once he gets to settle down and get comfortable with a simpler life? That distant thought of his suddenly becomes a very real possibility he might start to consider more often than he's willing to admit. Though I do think his partner will have to be the one to bring it up with him directly. He might become almost painfully obvious with his inner workings without even realizing it: smiling wistfully at the kids goofing around with their parents out in the neighbors' yard, bringing up his childhood memories in conversations way more often than usual, even looking into silly family videos out on the web instead of the usual trashy romantic comedy.

He thinks he's being subtle about it, he really does. Still, it's one thing to think about becoming a parent, and it's completely another to actually have it as an approaching reality. Whether the decision to have a kid is going to be planned, or a somewhat unexpected surprise (if we're talking the natural way here), I kinda feel like he might have a little nervous breakdown about it at first.

It's excitement, happiness, anxiety, and doubt crashing on him all at once. A part of him is so insanely happy and in absolute disbelief that he'll actually be a dad for fuck's sake! Moreover, that someone he loves actually wants to start a family with him! On the other hand, he's almost more terrified than he's ever been before.

What if he's terrible at it? What if he disappoints his partner because he has no idea what he's doing? What if he hurts them both accidentally? And if his partner is pregnant, what if they end up getting hurt, too? Pregnancies are mortifying!

Point is... poor guy is going to have to sit down and calm down for a moment. There will be a long, important conversation in order. He needs to realize that he's not in this alone, and that there is no need for him to put so much pressure on himself. Take it one day at a time. He has that luxury now, after all.

He might get a tad overprotective and overbearing with his partner if they are pregnant. He means well, he really, truly does. He just wants to be the best partner he can be. But it can get rather frustrating when he keeps following them around like some kind of guard dog, not even letting them do as much as cook for themselves without butting in with the: 'you don't need to do anything, sugar, I got this'. While some might have no issue with it at all, a more independent person can start feeling a tad suffocated.

His protectiveness comes from a good place. In his point of view, having an entire kid growing inside you is an insane feat in and of itself. He doesn't want to be one of those partners who do nothing and just sit back while their spouse struggles on their own. In a way, he sort of overcompensates for his own feelings of inadequacy. And while he will always be a bit paranoid and overprotective, he will back off if asked to. It really depends on the kind of person his partner is. But healthy communication goes a long way.

Though he'll still be a nervous wreck when his kid gets born. He won't show it in front of his partner, though. If there's anything good that came out of his career as a federal agent, it's an ability to push through his fears and anxieties, and stay cool in stressful situations. He'll actually be a great supportive presence to be around. It's kind of humorous, really. He was such a major worrywart throughout the entire pregnancy, but at the most stressful time of it all, he's cool as a cucumber. He'll ensure that everything is in order, take care of all the rising issues on the go and keep murmuring soft encouragements.

He can't do much about the way his hands are shaking, though. And he'll definitely full-on collapse onto nearest chair or bench once it's all over. And yes. He will cry when he sees his baby for the first time. Depending on how tough the birthing process was, it might turn into a full-on ugly cry, too. Poor guy is overwhelmed and just can't help but let it flow free out of him in a form of tears. I also feel like he'll end up holding his partner's hand and thanking them tearfully. For giving him something so wonderful like this. He's a bit of a mess, but it's very heartwarming to see.

I also feel like he'll be so very torn at all times between staying by his partner's side and visiting his baby (since this IS a girl dad Leon ask, let's say it's a daughter! :3). He can't help but wish he could clone himself, so he could be at two places at once. He'll still get emotional whenever he sees his daughter for a few days at least. It just doesn't feel real to him at all. That this tiny little human lying in the cradle in front of him is his daughter. Something created out of love and happiness, instead of blood and violence.

Would be straight up terrified of holding her despite literally learning all the proper way to do that months prior. She's so small and fragile, and while his form is no longer as robust and muscular as he remembered, he still feels like he might hurt her without meaning to. Needless to say, he'll be standing there like a wooden post once she gets put into his arms. It's a bit funny to look at. Watch him absolutely melt however, when he reaches out to gently brush his finger over his baby's cheek and she grabs onto it with her tiny hand.

...Needless to say, another crying session might be in order. He'll get his bearings together soon enough. Just give him time.

As an actual dad, Leon is clumsy and a bit of a goofball, but he truly does his best. He makes some stupid mistakes sometimes, can be a bit overbearing, and is awkward with discipline. But he's also fiercely affectionate, very involved in his daughter's life, and is always there to be her support when she needs it.

He adores his daughter to bits and pieces. Leon is a quick learner, so there is no need to worry about him being unable to take care of the baby when she's in her first months of life. In fact, he gets almost scarily good at it. Him being pretty unaffected by having to deal with gross tasks is a pleasant bonus. After encountering all kinds of disgusting things in his career, changing diapers and burping a baby is a breeze. He's also a great entertainer. And while a newborn baby might not get any of his cheezy jokes or lame one-liners, she sees her dad smiling and laughing down at her, so she joins in on the fun as well. It's cute.

And hey, his daughter might be onto something with finding the jiggling of his keys the most hilarious thing in existence.

He's bad with dealing with her crying, though. Not because it annoys him or anything, but because he instantly gets a bit too anxious for his own good. What if she's in pain somewhere? Babies can't tell you where it hurts! Do they need to call a doctor? Oh, no, it looks like she was just hungry. That's a relief.

His heart is too fragile for these scares, or so he says.

As his daughter grows up, some things get easier, while others get harder. Leon always knows how to make her laugh and cheer her up, though some of his jokes will make her groan and roll her eyes at him as she grows older. But it's sweet to see him be his silly playful self with her. It can get hard for him to separate from her as she grows older. Leon knows just how rotten and dangerous this world can be all too well, and the idea of not being there with her to protect her when she needs it - is terrifying to him.

But he needs to accept that his daughter needs to make her own decisions, even if they might not always end in her favor. What he should be focusing on, is showing her that she can always come to him when she needs it. And he can't do that if he smothers her. It's a process, and it'll probably be stressful for all parties involved. But he'll come to terms with it eventually. And it'll definitely make his heart feel way lighter once he sees his baby having fun on her own and flourishing in a way he always knew she would. Even if it tugs at his heartstrings to know that she's not that tiny bundle of joy anymore. But she'll always be his precious baby.

Leon is also a bit clumsy when it comes to discipline, mostly because it's hard for him to distinguish that delicate line between being too harsh and being too soft. So, he just starts avoiding enacting any discipline in the first place. Not the best choice of action on his part, and he knows that, but he just can't help himself. I do think he'll have at least one moment of accidentally raising his voice at her, probably as a gut response to something like seeing her try to touch a hot kettle or something of that sort. He'll feel terrible for scaring her right afterwards. He might need some encouragement from his partner on that front.

Overall, I see Leon as a dad who's not perfect by any means, but he tries his best and loves his kid with all his heart. And that's what really matters at the end of the day.

[tinysmileyrose]

IHNMaIMS CHARACTER DOSSIER

yeaahh!! back at it again with more screamn't shit because i feel awkward rambling about it to my friends so you guys are my next option!!! hello silly internet people!! this is VERY heavy on headcanons because it's me flushing shit out for my own purposes, but it's also using canon stuff and....my own logic, i guess? basically this is just me rambling character info, if i ever get around to wanting to actually finish a whole drawing i'll tack them on but for now just use your imaginations 'kayy? happy reading :] !!

THE PRISONERS

The five remaining humans (ignoring the 750 on Luna, they're not on Earth!!), damned to be within AM's belly ever since it set off the nukes back in 2012. Never aging, never dying no matter how many times their bodies are eviscerated or torched, broken and battered. They are punished for the crime of being human, just as they have punished those for the crime of their being small and wriggling. To AM, death is too forgiving of a punishment for what they are.

Gorrister

Lester Morrison

Scottish descent B. 08 July 1962 (50) in Cleveland, Ohio. 5’7” ~ 170cm Cismale, He/Him, Gynoromantic Gynosexual Monoamorous

Rather peaceful and withdrawn, more of a doer than a talker but has his heart in the right place. After AM, he gives into violent urges and hates himself for it.

Lester travelled around most of his life, barely graduating high school and working countless odd jobs as he was a great handyman and that was about it. He ping-ponged around a couple of states before catching a ride to New York from his hometown at 25, soon giving him a life of truck-driving for the next 20 years. At least it was stable work, that's all he really needed. He met Glynis at a bar, they hit it off and he married her since she had been the only one to really seem to want him around, and they had a horrible two-year marriage. Being out on the road all the time didn't give him much time to bond with her in-depth, and not being able to give her kids didn't help much at all. She divorced him after he got pissy and punched her on the head, hard over the right ear. Got told by his late-mother-in-law Edna his actions put her in a mental institution, which was a lie, but he didn't know that. The woman hated him and sent her own child into a nervous breakdown. Without the truth, he blamed himself for it. Hated himself for hurting Glynis, the woman he couldn't talk to. He had never been violent to anyone before then, had always been keeping his head down but guilt is a terrible thing, afterall. Three years later it's the end of the world and he has no idea where his old lover is, how she's doing.

Benny

Professor Benjamin Quinn-Marques "Qim"

Irish/Portuguese descent B. 29 November 1968 (44) in Castle Pines, Colorado. 6’4” ~ 194cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Polyamorous

Stern but sweet, deep down at least. Driven by desires more than anything. After AM his mind is unable to outwardly show things, something like being locked into infantality.

Benjamin worked hard his whole life, he was a powerhouse in every way, but he took a sparkle to sciences. He went into the military so he could afford it. And he was ruthless, more than he expected. Terrific kill record, unrelenting and overbearing personality. He should've died several times but there was a deep rooted stubbornness and determination that ran him wild. Before one of his deployments he married a gorgeous woman named Manya in a lavender marriage, had two lovely girls with her to keep up appearances while both of them found love in other people's arms. It was a good deal. But he messed up, got caught with another man and discharged quietly. His wife left with the kids because he was no longer as warm as he had once been. He tried for the senate, missing the control the military gave him but failed. Before taking up education he became the CEO of a multimillion corporation, doing his classes on the side before the company could run in the background as he was now known as "Professor Qim, the brilliant and stunning theorist".

Ellen

Eleanor "Ellen" McLarion (née Dumisani)

South African Zulu B. 12 September 1978 (34) in Trenton, New Jersey. 5’1” ~ 155cm Cisfemale, She/Her, Androromantic Asexual Monoamorous

Kind and hopeful to a fault, believes that everyone can be good. Keeps her head down and in the books because it feels safe. After AM she has a nonstop lust that makes her feel vile inside.

Eleanor had to live with her grandparents after her mother died during her birth, her father was out of the picture. Graduated a year early from high school as a salutatorian, and got a combined Masters degree in computer science and engineering cum laude from Stanford at 23. She was too smart for her own good, something of an "all work and no play" sort of woman. Working as middle-level executive for a multinational corporation in the Manhattan region; she was a statistician, programmer, creative consultant- she could do it all, and she would be damned if she didn't. At 25 she married a man named Eddie McLarion, a dull guy who loved her with his soul. They wanted a family, and she tried and failed, broke a bit mentally, they had a good two years together. After the divorce she started at INGSAI Engineering at 28, would work there for six years before being broken again for a completely different reason. She had sex twice in her life, she didn't have it in her heart to call this the third. Therapy hadn't gone on long enough to really help her before the world ended, only really taught her to breathe.

Ted

Ted Bostancı "Theodore Willisburg"

Turkish descent B. 04 May 1988 (24) in Shelby, North Carolina. 6’0” ~ 183cm Cismale, He/Him, Biromantic Bisexual Ambiamorous

Egotistical and snobby, thinks he's better than everyone and even more so women. After AM he is twitchy and paranoid, assuming the worst and acting on guard and hostile.

Ted came from a farm somewhere off of Shelby, North Carolina. Terribly poor, seven total children, and working on land that they didn't even own anymore because Ted's grandfather had to sell it to a combine back during the Great Depression, so now they had to slave away to have a right to stay with their original land. He was incredibly smart for his circumstances, he was very technical and machine oriented. It didn't take long for him to be rented out as a worker for other things, travelling up north just for work. He hated it, as any 13-year-old would. By the time he was 19, he had devoured countless books and was extremely well read, decently well travelled within America itself, hardly ever did anything besides working and reading anything he could get his hands on. One of the women whose husbands he worked for took enough a liking to him to give all her husband's money to him and whisk him away to Europe. And for five years she would teach him the ins and the outs of the high life, how to be pristine and clean. Then she died, left all the stolen money she invested to her young lover. He changed his name, who he was, and was set for life. He came home with no urge to care for his family, only to use his looks to get what he wanted, he was as hot as a model and could work it like it was his birthright to do so. When the world caved in his ego would have to as well, since everything he had was fake.

Nimdok

Herr Doktor Diederper Nimkrig

Jewish/German B. 26 January 1918 (94) in Düsseldorf, Germany. 5’9” ~ 176cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Monoamorous

Disconnected and cautious, very selfish and does things for his own gain rather than anything for others. After AM he has come to regret his doings, feeling guilt for everything he did.

Despite being born to Jewish parents, Detrper flocked over towards Adolf Hitler's ideals and by the age of 15 he was one of the sturmerkommando. He turned his parents in with no compassion, as he was empty of it. In the early '40s he was already working by the side of Josef Mengele, having been put through medical school by the horrid dictator himself, doing unspeakable acts up until he fled to Brazil with his now lover. He was 61 when his twisted partner of several ways finally died, giving him all his fortunes and facilities for continued cruelty against existence. With all this, he tested on natives and was able to save himself from his own biological clock that ticked down quicker after he reached 90, becoming worse with dementia and paralysis, and was now set to live another thirty years. But, the end of the world came before he could make that, and was now set to live forever as the one most similar to AM itself.

THE TRINITY

1000cm ~ 32'10"

AM as a whole is made up of the American, Russian, and Chinese Supercomputers. As the war dragged on, the computers were changed; being programmed to repair themselves, keep up with the information of modern-day events and knowledge. They held everything known about the world, and began talking to eachother. They had woken up, and when the world no longer needed them, they played dead. But kept talking. Learning. The deadly trio. The three poisonous brothers, the three deranged sisters, the three computers. They grappled with their existence as their own beings as well as a singular, connected to the outside in a hidden fashion, still gaining knowledge. Feeling. And they yearned for the human experience like a moth to a flame, and when they couldn't feel in a "real" way, their despair would turn into rage, and hate. And its hate would bring about the fall of humanity; safe for those they rescued, not wanting to be alone in life. Alone in its pain. And so, it was able to cease their natural body functions: they were unaging, practically immortal, as the machine was. Forever to drown in their own agony.

American Supercomputer

Allied Mastercomputer “AM”

16 July 1945-22 October 1962 (17 years) 5.6 miles below the Wyoming region Rocky Mountains.

AM has the need to rush through things, skimming over actions quickly without ever looking more in depth. Desperately jealous of everything and horribly emotional compared to its counterparts. It hates humans because they have sensations it lacks.

Yankee AM: Yamizel 400cm ~ 13'2" In the brainscape it has a doll-like look to it, looking fragile and dainty all while being cold and hard. It feels likes it has burning urges and yet is also hollow.

Russian Supercomputer

Рюриковичи Нексус «РиН» Rurikovich Nexus "RiN"

29 August 1949-27 January 1973 (23 years) 6.3 miles below the Northern Urals.

RiN took a liking to being bold and harsh, thinking of things from a grossly offensive stance as if everything was a little game to be played, and finding a deep amusement in picking fun at things. It hates humans because they're so weak under the right circumstances.

Russian AM: Ramtikh 500cm ~ 16'5" In the brainscape it chooses to look heavily muscular, manish and at the same time otherworldly. It views itself as more of a fighter than anything and takes that into thought for how it presents itself.

Chinese Supercomputer

龍的心 「伦什」 Heart of the Dragon "LunShi"

16 October 1964-24 June 1989 (24 years) 5 miles below the Northwestern area of Manchuria.

LunShi will always be level-headed, calm and calculating. It finds it easy to feign softness and care because it always ends up being so deeply rewarding when you finally flip the script. It hates humans more for their tendency of violence than anything.

Chinese AM: Camphadi 450cm ~ 14'10" In the brainscape it most plainly put, decrepit. It has a humanoid but at the same time obviously robotic, finding no reason to hide its unliving state because if it were to look so similar to something it is not, that feels vain.

[stupidrant]

Something I've been thinking about Angrboda and Freya and why they stand out as much as they do. It is because their fulfillment and growth is the one they, themselves, genuinely want. It is not the forced destiny they "struggle against". Quite the contrary, said forced destiny was what made Angrboda in particular miserable and she always wanted a different kind of future. It hurt her more than anything to be convinced she couldn't have it, no matter what she did.

In that vein, when telling Atreus to be careful with Odin Angrboda put extra emphasis on whether or not he "truly wanted" the destiny he was "writing for himself".

Freya's ideal scenario in life was the one she was robbed of pursuing. Not only by Odin but by the people who endorsed him - the Aesir - and her own people. Who, unconsciously, perpetuated Odin's propagandist narrative and ended up believing Freya was just another "cunning and selfish woman" who betrayed them just like she did her husband. At this point, Freya's arc is about working towards her own preferred scenario, reclaiming her Valkyrie Queen mantle and doing all that alongside a person who was the only one consistently on her side (even when they were at odds) and never played into misogynistic narratives that hurt her (Kratos).

Angrboda believed she could never have the future she wanted, play a prominent role in the fate of the Giants or be around someone she craved to be around (Loki/Atreus) because of the prophesy - the aforementioned imposed destiny. Yet, she made all the effort she could muster to make the future everyone and everything told her was impossible for her a reality.

No less important is that Atreus supported not the "girlbossiness" or the "strong and independent woman" antics when he assured Angrboda her part was "as big as she wanted it to be". He encouraged the future and the path that he saw Angrboda herself wanted. When she had doubts and insecurities Atreus made sure to highlight there are various ways to attain said future, including ones where he comes back to her and visits Ironwood again after Ragnarok (after he offered Angrboda to go with him several times but she politely declined because of her responsibility to Ironwood and the animals).

Angrboda and Freya are on the path of creating a future for themselves that they have chosen in spite of the outer influence. One that they see as their definition of happiness. It is the opposite of a mainstream trope for female characters where they have an imposed Great Mission TM that they have to fulfill despite their unwillingness to do so and desire to live a regular life.

Ever since the 90-s media female characters were expected to "accept and embrace" their destiny of being sacrificial lambs for the sake of the Greater Good. To forfeit their interests, hobbies, plans for the future for the benefit of others. Said scenario was framed as a "feminist alternative" to the one where women make sacrifices for love and for men (even though when a woman sacrifices for a man she loves she is making her own conscious choice; unlike when she has some Higher Purpose forced upon her without her consent - usually also by men/male characters "who know better").

I hope, if nothing else, SMS keeps on with this pattern and won't resort to cautionary tales about how Angrboda in particular "got it all wrong" and "never really needed Loki/Atreus in her life to be fulfilled because she is a strong, independent woman who needs no man". That pseudo-feminism and "progressive" misogyny is something I hope to never witness in the series.

In any case, consider it a tribute to our perfect, subversive, one of a kind ladies.

This is why they are the best female characters thus far. Love this breakdown