#I feel so helpless watching them just suffer so I can’t even imagine how helpless they feel

[eve-was-framed]

how do I invent a special type of magic AR-15 that only works when it’s in the hands of a woman and send 15 million of them over to aghanistan

[beautifuldreamertwisteduntome]

Okay so I was listening to the vengeance saga and oooh boy that last song had me freaking out, and going back to listen to the songs just had me imagining that final part with Azul as Poseidon and Lilia as Odysseus.

Imagine, it’s been twenty years, he’s lost so much, he’s been away from home for so so long, missed his boy, his son, his Silver growing up, faced things that no other mortal could, and he lived. He lived goddamnit! He was so close and this bastard of a man, of a god, tried to keep him from home. He fought a god, he fought a god and won. So why is this bastard laughing, why is he laughing as though he is the victor.

“You idiot! Can’t you see? You sealed your fate just to beat me!” The god laughed as the wind roared around them, “You released my storm when you opened that bag!” He was laughing like a madman, and Lilia had met more than a few, “You blocked your one way home! Now you’ll never get back!”

Lilia felt something inside him snap, as though the last fiber of his rope of patience and mercy had finally snapped. He could hear the blood roaring, pounding in his ears. Lilia could only see red.

“You’re going to call off that storm.” Lilia asks, his voice calm, the kind of calm that hid a raging storm behind it, the kind of calm that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. He turned to the god, hair plastered to his skin from the rain that beat down from above, slowly limping towards the injured cecaelia. He’d lost his favorite weapon, his magearm long ago. When? He nary had a clue. But you didn’t live as long as he did without being adaptable.

“Or what? You can’t kill me! You can’t kill a god!” Azul laughed at him, as though Lilia had any care in the world left. He might not be able to kill a god, but he could make one suffer.

Lilia picked up the gods fallen trident. It truly was a beautiful thing, flawless craftsmanship, a good weight to it, truly a weapon worthy of a god. But now, that same beautiful weapon would be used against the very god that wielded it.

“Exactly.” Was all Lilia said before tightening his grip on the trident, with all the rain, his hands and the staff were slippery, but he wouldn’t lose his grip. No, he’d hold it firmly, he wouldn’t lose his grip, not even for a second. As the general raised the trident, it seemed that Azul finally realized what would happen if he didn’t stop the storm as his laughter finally died down, eyes widening.

“Wait! WAIT!” But Lilia did not wait as he stabbed the god with his own weapon, ichor staining the weapon and Lilias skin, trailing down his body as the rain poured down from above.

“How does it feel to be helpless?!” Lilia demanded, stabbing the god again, ignoring the gods screams, “How does it feel to know pain?!” Ichor was beginning to stain the ground as Lilia stabbed him again and again, “I watched my friends die in horror!” Lilia screamed, remembering his fellow soldiers, his comrades, his brothers in arms, his friends, remembering their screams as this god drowned them with no mercy, “Crying as they were all slain!” He remembered the ghostly hands as he was sinking to the depths of the ocean, the voices, wanting him to join them, “I heard their final moments! Calling their captain in vain!”

Lilia took a shaky breath as he tore the trident out again from the gods bleeding body, tightening his grip once more, the rain and ichor making his hands slippery. But he wouldn’t let that stop him. He’d gouge out the cecaelia’s eyes with his bare hands, he’d rip him limb from limb, he’d tear out his organs with his teeth, he’d do anything to make this god regret crossing him.

With each stab he took at the gods body, he marked off the name of each man under his command, each friend he watched die, each year he was away from home, each year he was trapped with that damned goddess, each monster he had to fight, each person he had to kill with his own hands. He didn’t stop, even as the memories and images came to mind, even as the ground grew wet with golden ichor, even as it stained his skin and clothes, even as the god screamed below him, even as rain and thunder pounded on from above, he didn’t stop, not for a second. Lilia would make this god pay for stopping him from going home. He would bear the brunt of Lilias anger. Ruthlessness was mercy, for which Lilia had none left.

“Look what you turned me into!” Lilia yelled over the thunder, stabbing the god, over and over again. He knew that his son wouldn’t recognize him, how could he? His father had become a monster, and he’d gladly become one too. “Look what we’ve become!”

“Enough!” Azul yelled, trying to stop Lilia from piercing his body with the trident again, but Lilia didn’t listen. Why should he when Azul didn’t stop when he begged for mercy, when he apologized for his actions against the gods son. Azul didn’t stop, so neither will he.

“All the pain that I’ve been through!” Lilia screamed as lightning struck overhead, ignoring the god as he begged for the general to stop, “Haven’t I suffered enough?!” “Stop!” Azul cried out, pain clear in his voice as Lilia stabbed him again and again, rain and seawater mixing with golden ichor. “You didn’t stop when I begged you! You told me to close my heart!”

Azul tried to stop him from stabbing him again, fingers weakly grabbing at the trident, but his attempts were to no avail as the weapon pierced his skin over and over again, turning him into an immortal pincushion. “You…”

“You said the world was dark!” Lilia screamed at Azul, his voice hoarse. But no, he would keep screaming, keep stabbing and impaling until this bastard of a god stopped the storm so he could get home. “Monster!!” Azul yelled as though that would hurt him. Yes, Ashengrotto. He was a monster, one of his own creation. Thank you for noticing.

“Didn’t you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our-“ before he could take another stab at the god, Azul held out a weak hand, trembling from the loss of ichor and his injuries. “Alright! Please…” the god begged for mercy as the storm slowly stopped around them. The winds began dying down, the clouds slowly began to dissipate, the rain slowing down before stopping, but the sun didn’t shine through. Fitting, why would the bright, golden sun, ever cast its bright, shining light upon a monster like him.

Lilia only dropped the trident, wet with its owners ichor, hands stained gold, proof of Azuls godhood. He turned, having nothing left to say to the god, not even a thank you.

“After everything that you’ve done,” Azul spat at the mortal, trying to sit up, “how will you sleep at night?” Now, it was Lilia's turn to laugh, a cold cold laugh, unlike Azul's manic laughter earlier. “Next to my wife.” Lilia said, barely even deigning to glance at the god before walking away.

[wufflesvetinari]

“Here’s a question for you,” Astarion says, fletching arrows by firelight. “Or rather, for your employer. Ilmater’s hung up on compassion. One might even call it his entire artistic medium.”

“Which part of that was the question?” Lash murmurs. 

She squats before a row of little corpses: a mouse, a vole, the remains of a rabbit. Each of them had been turned half to goo by the shadow curse, their bones glinting like stolen jewels.

Astarion reaches down to finger a lock of Lash’s thick hair. She’ll give up on trying to dispel Reithwin’s plague from the bodies soon enough, just as she has every night for a tenday. A quiet cuss will slip out beneath her breath, and then she’ll wander off to flay dried fish for dinner. 

Cooking seems to soothe her more than prayer ever did.

“The question is obvious, darling. Suffering is everywhere; the world rather spins on it. Is your god falling down on the job?”

With a sigh, Lash falls back onto her ass. She cranes her neck back to watch him: he’s perched on a tree stump behind her. “Feeling philosophical, are you?”

“Not like there’s anything else to occupy us in this wretched place.”

Every dark hour wasted here seems more miserable than the last. Astarion’s gone soft for sunlight; craves it in its absence like a safe place to sleep. 

Belatedly, he remembers himself. “Actually, I can think of one thing I’d rather be doing.”

He props an ankle on her shoulder, making a show of it: leaning back on his stump to stretch out the lines of his body. His skin is beautiful, he knows, in half-light. Ethereal.

He’s so tired of it. Of skin.

Lash gives a low chuckle, patting his boot. “Later, if you want.”

A sly grin settles around her tusks. As though the two of them know something, together, that’s hidden from the world. A pinch of annoyance takes him: it’s a rather one-sided secret, isn’t it, if the reason he beds her is to feel safe at night?

He drops his fletching, arrows rolling on black earth. “My question stands. Clearly, Ilmater helps only a very few. Why bother with a god who plays favorites?”

Lash’s brow pinches. She lifts his ankle from her shoulder—scoots around to face him and sets it in her lap. “You ask somebody in the Open Hand Temple, they’ll tell you that…since suffering and patience are sacred, things can’t change until they’re meant to. ‘S a balance.”

“How convenient for a lazy god. You believe that rot?”

“Not really.”

He gives her a sharp look.

She casts a wry glance at her row of little corpses. “He can’t save everyone. Doesn’t have the power for it. Has to…pick and choose, I guess, and send us out to work on the rest. You’re right it’s not fair.”

He looks down at her—warm gray skin; hair loosed from its tie—and feels that annoyed pinch grow into a pit at the base of his stomach. 

“Then why?” he scowls. “Why…give false hope to a horde of filthy faithful?”

Why spread the legend far enough that a spawn spends a decade praying, wishing, imagining the Crying God blowing open the kennel door? He’d heard the stories: Ilmater manifesting to lead prisoners home. 

A god who picks and chooses.

“Any good you could possibly do”—the word twists without his meaning it to, you like an accusation—“is a drop in the fucking ocean. Why humor such a helpless god?”

Lash shrugs. She runs a finger down the toe of his boot, shoulders curling inward. “Better than being helpless alone.”

--

(i'm writing more still the river. have you listened to "boy with a coin" by iron & wine? have you listed to it.......a lot)

[sallows-legacy]

Flashback: The Water’s Edge Confrontation

He had thought about it countless times—how different things might have been if he had just turned away, if he had never followed her to that cursed place. But no matter how much time passed, the memory of that day remained vivid, as if the water still clung to his skin.

Aurora stood knee-deep in the water, her gaze fixed on the reflection of the sky above, rippling and distorted in the current. The world around her seemed to fade as she wrestled with the decision she knew she had to make—the decision to seal away her magic for good. It had grown too powerful, too wild, and the fear of what it could do weighed heavy on her chest. The water, usually her place of calm, did little to soothe her today.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, the weight of her ancient magic like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there, trying to gather the strength to do what she felt she must.

“Aurora!”

Her heart jolted at the sound of his voice. She turned to see Sebastian approaching the water’s edge, his eyes dark and full of something between anger and desperation. He had followed her—again. He always did.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice tight as if he already knew the answer but hoped, somehow, he was wrong.

“I needed to think,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended, the sadness of the truth hanging between them.

Sebastian took a step forward, his shoes splashing into the shallow water, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. “You’re going through with it, aren’t you? Sealing the magic away.”

Aurora turned fully to face him, her body rigid with the tension of the moment. “I don’t have a choice, Sebastian. It’s too dangerous. I can’t control it.”

“That’s not true!” His voice cracked with frustration, his emotions spilling over. “You don’t even know what you’re capable of. That magic could save Anne! You could save her!” His desperation to save his sister was palpable, as it always was. It was his driving force—the thing that had led him down darker paths than either of them had ever imagined.

But Aurora shook her head, her eyes filling with a quiet sorrow. “And what if it doesn’t? What if it destroys her, or you, or someone else I love? I can’t take that risk, Sebastian. Not with something I can’t control.”

The water sloshed as Sebastian moved closer, his fists clenched, anger flashing in his eyes. “You’re just giving up,” he spat, his voice bitter. “You’re scared, Aurora. You’re running from something that could fix everything!”

Her breath hitched, a flash of anger rising to meet his. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly!” Sebastian interrupted, his voice a sharp contrast to the peaceful sound of the flowing water around them. “You’ve never had to fight for someone like I’ve had to fight for Anne. You don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love suffer every day and feel completely helpless.”

Aurora’s eyes hardened. “And what happens when that magic destroys everything in its path, Sebastian? When it’s too much for me to handle, and you lose more than your sister? You think I don’t want to save her? You think this isn’t killing me too?”

Her words stung him into silence for a moment. But the emotions between them were too volatile to settle. They stood there, inches apart now, the tension rising with every second.

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came. In a flash of frustration, Aurora—frustrated by his inability to understand the danger her magic poses—shoved him into the water.

Sebastian, fully dressed, stumbled and fell into the water. The shock of it silenced them both for a moment. He stood up, soaking wet, his anger momentarily giving way to a raw vulnerability. He didn’t yell or accuse her anymore. Instead, as he stood in the water, their gazes locked, and he finally asked, almost brokenly, "Why are you so afraid of this power?"

This simple question hit Aurora harder than she expected. She waded deeper into the water toward him, drawn by something she couldn’t explain. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her emotions as turbulent as the water around them. She was afraid—afraid of what her magic could do to those she loved, and afraid of how much she cared about Sebastian.

They stood inches apart, faces so close. The tension between them shifted from anger to something unspoken, something tender. The water swirled around them, as if holding them together for just a moment longer.

Sebastian’s expression changed. His jaw tightened, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes shifted back to something colder, harder. He stepped back slightly, breaking the tension.

“It’s too late,” he whispered, his voice low but steady.

Aurora froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had expected him to keep fighting, to keep pushing her, but this—this resignation cut deeper than any argument they had ever had.

Sebastian's eyes flickered with pain before hardening once again. "You’re a coward," he said, his voice low and cold now. “You’re too afraid to see what’s right in front of you.”

Aurora said nothing as she watched him walk away, each step a reminder of the growing distance between them. The water around her suddenly felt colder, and the silence left behind by his absence was deafening.

She knew this wasn’t the last time they would face each other. There would be other meetings, other chances to resolve the conflict between them, but with each one, they would be pulled further apart. Every encounter would draw them closer to the inevitable moment when Sebastian would fully embrace the darkness.

By the time they met again in that dark forest, when the shadows had consumed him, Aurora would remember this moment. She would remember the cold water, Sebastian’s broken voice, and the way he had walked away from her. She would wonder if there had ever been a way to stop what was coming. But that time had passed, and the choices they had made now lay between them like a chasm that could never be crossed.

[renee-writer]

I like the Christmas story perspective of Mary and Jesus. It’s sweet, and special.

It’s beautiful.

But today I wandered towards the end of the gospels, to dive into the darkest moments of their time on earth.

I found myself weeping, (in the back of a car I was riding in… trying to contain my tears from my kids), as I really thought about the last time Mary, a normal loving mama like me, saw her baby.

Mary witnessed much of the horrific abuse her son endured that day.

Things no mother should ever have to even imagine, let alone see.

Powerless and helpless, what could she do?

I imagine her running after him, easily willing to give her life to protect the man she held as a baby boy. The one who had her heart.

I imagine those with her holding her back as she sobbed, reminding her she could do absolutely nothing to protect her son.

She followed Jesus and the crowd up the hill to where He was nailed to a cross.

John 19:26 says, “When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciples whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “here is your mother”. From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

This is where the tears came for me.

Because typically when I think about this story, my heart aches for Mary.

But when I read this today, I saw Jesus, the man, as an actual son.

Who loved his mom.

Who, even though he was hung on a cross in the type of pain and agony we can not imagine…

He wanted to leave knowing she was taken care of.

He didn’t look around and make sure everyone else had someone to look after them- in that moment- it was his mom He was thinking about.

I think this touched me so much, because sometimes I forget how human Jesus was, you know?

A baby who was held and nursed by her, a boy who was nurtured by her, and now a man who knew the love and comfort of His mom..

He had to say goodbye to her, and even as He was dying, He saw her. I can only imagine the heartache of our real-human-Jesus.

I just want to remind you.. you with the broken heart, you carrying the heavy burdens, you who feels broken..

Perhaps you who is watching a parent, child or someone you love suffer..

This is Jesus. Fully human. Fully understanding of our emotions because He actually experienced them.

He’s also fully God. So when He meets you in your sorrow, He can do what other people can’t.

I just wanted you to know that He isn’t “too divine” to understand what you’re going through.

Just look at how He loved His mom.

~Kelli Bachara, The Unraveling Blog

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 5

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader

Chapter Warning: Language | Alcohol Consumption

Word Count: 5.3k

Author’s Note: Just a heads up... shits hitting the fan yall and its going e v e r y w h e r e 🔥! i feel like the story is going so fast haha. The wildest part is we are still only on day 2 in the story!!! so much happening in 2 days, could you imagine irl🥵? oh girl needs a long rest after this vacation is2g 😴!

Autumn is slowly approaching and I am so glad! I got my pumpkin candles LIT and my sweaters OUT lol 🍁. And who is excited for Minseok's solo??!??? lets goooo 🏃‍♀️!!!! ill enjoy whatever he does, but i am begging! Kim Minseok!! Give us cunt! Give us whips and chains! body rolls!!! I want to be devoured 😩

Enough with the babbling, I am sooo excited and nervous for this chapter. Its one of my favorites, so I hope you enjoy it! As always, reblogs and replies are always appreciated! I LOVE feedback and your thoughts and theories on the plot! Also lmk if youd like to be tagged!! Cheers to seeing our soldier boy soon 🥂! Much love! Have fuuUUUUuUuuuuun~~!

Twenty minutes later, you rush into your suite with three bags full of soju of various flavors.

Yerim sits at the island, head in her hands. You catch her shoulders bouncing slightly, but can only hear the occasional sniff. Seulgi sits beside her, rubbing her back consolingly. Her head turns towards you once she hears you enter, relief evident in her whole body.

Without saying a word, you tear open a bottle and lay out three shot glasses, filling them up to the brim. The sound of the tiny cups hitting the counter catches Yerim’s attention, and she reaches over for a glass with a slightly shaky hand. She gulps the contents down and you pour her another one, which she empties as soon as it’s full again. You take this one with her, but Seulgi only takes a sip of hers before placing it gently back on the table, her focus solely on her sister.

You’re throwing back another shot when Yerim finally speaks.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying like this.” Her voice is nasally, eyes bloodshot, face blotchy. “He had been practically ignoring me since we touched down and it’s not like we were official or anything. I just… I just really liked him.” 

Chanyeol did have that effect on people, you knew all too well.

Yerim sounds so broken, you can’t help but sympathize with her. You find yourself tearing up as well.

“What did he say exactly?” Seulgi asks slowly, as if she’s afraid she’ll trigger her.

Yerim sighs and cradles a bottle to her chest, letting the coldness calm her. “He told me that being here was putting a lot of things into perspective for him, and that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship with me. I told him that it was okay, that we could go slow, pick this up again once we were back in Seoul, but he told me no. He said…. He said he didn’t want to continue this at all. That he didn’t want to be with me at all and that–that bringing me here with him was a mistake!”

She starts sobbing, and her wails make your shoulders drop. You feel helpless, standing there watching your friend’s heart break. That helplessness makes you restless, makes you overthink. You want to do something, want to protect her. You want to storm right over to the guy who did this and make him suffer for hurting her. But, being that the man at fault is Park Chanyeol–-the same man you can’t seem to be alone with for two minutes without wanting to suck his face off, disrespectfully–you remain still, contemplating your options.

He did mention that he was taking her out to ‘make things right’. Now that you’re thinking about it, you should have seen this coming. He practically told you what he was planning on doing. You can’t help but to think that yeah, Yerim is suffering right now, but it is for the best. Could Chanyeol have gone about it in a better way? Absolutely. But Chanyeol has never really been one with great hindsight. He goes with how he feels, worries about the consequences later. Clearly. 

There is one thing though, that you believe he still has failed to tell Yerim. The true reasoning behind his rash decision. 

You.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you mutter. It’s time Yerim knew the truth. You take another shot of soju for courage, knowing there are a few ways Yerim will take the news, and some of the options are not pleasant. You sit the glass down with slightly more force than intended, startling the sisters, and cutting of Yerim’s cries.

“Yerim.” Your voice is the most serious it has ever been. You lock eyes and hold it, making sure you have her full attention. She holds your stare, albeit with confusion. “I have something to tell you, something I should’ve told you sooner.”

“What is it?” She asks hesitantly. 

“It’s about Loey,” you reveal. “The truth is, well, him and I–”

“Knew each other in college.” Seulgi loudly interrupts.

Her outburst startles you and you blink at her in surprise. She shrugs, curling her palms up and widening her eyes, helplessly. You know her well enough to gather what she’s trying to say. Now is, in fact, not the time.

“You…did?” Yerim asks, pulling your focus back to her.

“Yeah,” you let out in a huff. All the urgency leaves your body and you slump over the counter in defeat. “All of us did. He’s Baekhhyun’s best friend.”

“Why would he lie about that?” She asks, voice small.

“Because he’s an asshole,” Seulgi says. You nod in agreement.

“So, you were all friends in college?”

“Yes.” You supply. “That’s why he’s a groomsman with the rest of them. Chanyeol was pretty close to all of us but… was closer to some more than others.”

Both you and Seulgi squint your eyes and lean closer to the clueless girl, watching to see if she catches your drift.

“Oh.” She simply says. You both lean back with large sighs.

Her eyelids flutter rapidly before she’s going back for more soju. Once she’s got her fill, she’s gazing up at you. “His name is Chanyeol?”

You nod carefully, still trying to gauge her reaction.

She does her iconic deadly scoff and it’s enough reassurance for you. Your Yerim is coming back. “He didn’t even respect me enough to tell me his real name. He didn’t respect me at all. Was anything he told me even true? Is he even a producer?”

“No, he actually does do that,” Seulgi admits with a wince.

“I need another shot,” Yerim says. You don’t hesitate to fulfill her request.  

“The boys should be back soon,” you say, laying your slightly spinning head against the back of the couch. Sehun texted you about fifteen minutes ago, letting you know that they were heading back. The plan is for the boys to come to your suite and drink a bit more before heading to their respective rooms to get some sleep for the big day tomorrow. Luckily, the wedding is going to be around 2pm so that you all can get some rest.

You asked Yerim if she was okay with the boys hanging out at your suite, and she said that as long as Loey–’oh yeah, that’s right, it’s Chanyeol’–wasn’t going to be here, she had no qualms. Plus she likes Sehun.

You don’t think she’s going to make it. She polished off three bottles of soju and is absolutely wrecked at the moment, making you from last night seem sober in comparison.

She’s sprawled out on the couch, head resting on Seulgi’s lap. Seulgi runs her fingers through her hair dotingly. Yerim’s eyes are already closed, breath evening out. You’re about to suggest hauling her off to bed when you hear a bunch of voices outside your room.

“Looks like they’re here!” You cheer, excited to be reunited with your favorite people.

There’s a loud bang and a bunch of people exclaiming. You share a confused look with Seulgi before you’re rushing to the door to further investigate. Seulgi lags behind, having to slip from underneath a snoring Yerim.

What greets you is the furthest thing you expect.

Jongdae and Baekhyun are a door down, struggling to carry a deadweight Chanyeol. His arms slung over their shoulders, feet barely touch the ground as he stumbles towards his room. He’s very obviously drunk, if his loud deep voice echoing through the halls is any indicator.

Jongin and Sehun lean against the wall across from you, quietly watching the shit show in amusement. 

Curious, you venture out into the hall, leaving Seulgi to hold the door. She takes in the scene wearily.

“What’s going on?” You ask in a hushed tone as you greet Sehun. He looks agitated, but as soon as he sees you, he’s standing up straight, fear in his bright eyes.

He hisses your name. “Get back in your room. Hurry before he sees you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t question, just go. Go!” He starts pushing you back to your room, but you’re too confused and defiant to oblige to his request. Instead, you fight back, making it difficult for him to shove you away.

Unfortunately, this draws the attention of the others, and as soon as Chanyeol notices you, you realize what Sehun was trying to prevent.

He wails your name, louder than he had been a second ago.

“Fuck,” Sehun mutters.

“Too late.” Jongin whistles lowley. 

“Mel!” Chanyeol cries. Baekhyun and Jongdae struggle under his shifting weight, scrambling to keep him above them. “I fucked everything up. I should’ve never brought her. Now you hate me for good.”

Now is a good time to take Sehun’s advice and run for the hills, but you can’t feel your legs to make an escape. Your breath hitches at his words and your heart starts beating so hard you can hear it in your ears, nearly drowning out his next words.

“It’s my fault,” he continues. His legs buckle beneath him, giving out and dropping him to his knees. Your heart shatters at how broken he sounds, how defeated he appears with his head bowed in shame. “I didn’t fight for you. I thought that’s what you wanted, so I didn’t. I’m sorry, Mel. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry.”

Each word that leaves his mouth chips at your heart, creating cracks on the wall you have built to hold in the dam of your emotions. Slowly they leak through, causing you to shake, your throat to itch, your eyes to burn–all a telltale sign of tears. You have to clench your teeth together to keep the sob in your throat from spilling out.

“I wish you didn’t hate me,” he continues in a broken whisper. “I wish you never left. That’s why I brought her. Because you left, and I couldn’t…. I couldn’t do it, Mel.”

He looks so small, like a lost child. It makes you want to walk over and drape yourself over him. Makes you want to pull him into you, feel the soothing softness of his hair between your fingers, his hot breath at your neck, and tell him that it’s okay. You can forgive him. You will forgive him.

Taking a shaky breath, you go to do just that. You shift your weight so that you can take that step–

“Who’s yelling?” You stiffen at the voice and catch in your peripheral Yerim squinting beside Seulgi, yawning as she scratches her head, very obviously just waking up. “Who’s Mel?”

That’s enough to shatter the illusion, bring you back to your senses. Fear quickly takes over as you realize the situation you’re now in. You want to tell her to go back inside like Sehun did to you earlier. You want to tell her to not worry, to ignore everything and go back to sleep, but before you can say anything, Chanyeol gets a bout of energy and tears away from the guys holding him.

It’s almost in slow motion, the way Chanyeol comes barreling towards you, hands outstretched for you. You can hear the others’ rejection, but their voices sound muffled, as though you’re underwater. Jongdae and Baekhyun rush to try to catch up to him, but his legs are too long for the shorter men.

Chanyeol’s massive hands cradle your head, tilting it back enough to give him the leverage he needs to press his lips harshly against yours.

He’s kissing you.

The shared contact speeds up time, making everything happen so quickly, you can hardly process anything going on. All you are aware of is a blur of warmth and nostalgia and hurt and regret and pain and love–so much fucking love.

You don’t even have time to close your eyes or succumb to the kiss you’ve been secretly craving all this time. No time to react before Chanyeol is being torn away from you with a loud wet pop.

Jongin has jumped in this time to drag Chanyeol back to his room. He’s fighting the whole way, trying to slip out of their grip, begging them to let him go because he wants to be with you. When he realizes his pleas are falling on deaf ears, he turns his attention back to you, reaching out as he gives you the saddest puppy eyes you think you’ve ever seen.

“Come with me,” he pleads urgently. “I want you to stay with me. Mel, please. Please! Give me another chance. You have to give me another chance!”

You can only watch as Baekhyun opens his door, throwing you an apologetic glance as they all tumble inside.

The silence that follows has your ears ringing, but the sound–or lack thereof–has you remembering yourself. Quickly, you spin around to your door, immediately locking eyes with Yerim. She doesn’t look an ounce as drunk or tired as she had before.

“Why did he just kiss you?” She asks, voice dangerously calm.

“Yerim,” you start, but find you’re at a complete loss for words. Your brain is still trying to possess the last few minutes.

“Why did he just fucking kiss you?!” She finally explodes, face red and shaking from the power of her vocals.

You all wince at her volume and guilt swallows you whole, smarting your eyes. You’re just so overwhelmed, everything’s happening so fast and you have no idea what is going on.

“I–I don’t know–”

“You don’t know?” She asks mockingly. “You don’t know why the man I brought here as my date, who just fucking dumped me, ran up and kissed you as if he wanted to be with you the whole time?”

Her words seem to connect some dots, you can practically see the light bulb spark to life over her head as she straightens up, eyes far away as realization dawns on her.

“Holy shit,” she mutters to herself. “It’s you.”

Her wide knowing eyes take you in. It’s almost cruel, the disgust now coating her face as she acknowledges you. “You’re the one he was talking about. The ex-fiancee. Aren’t you?”

“Yerim, please, just let me explain,” you plead.

That’s enough confirmation for her. She takes a step back, away from you. “So, all of you have been lying to me, not just him? You’ve all been in on it. How hilarious it must have been, watching me fall for a man you all knew loved someone else. You probably got together after dinner last night and shared a laugh over how much of an idiot I am.”

Her voice thickens as she speaks, lips quivering and eyes sparkling in the most devastating way. “I know I’m just Seulgi’s little sister to you all but this…. Isn’t this a bit too far?”

“It’s not like that at all.” Seulgi finally speaks. Yerim turns to her and she flinches at the anger aimed her way.

“And you,” Yerim vilely spits. “You are my sister! You’re supposed to protect me! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Seulgi attempts to answer her question, but is also left speechless, unable to conjure an answer that would appease her sister.

Yerim scans all of you. Jongin and Baekhyun have returned, leaving Jongdae to babysit Chanyeol, and silently watch the fight, trying to catch up on what has transpired so far in their absence. “What is wrong with you people?”

“We didn’t say anything because Chanyeol and I are over,” you reveal in a rush, pushing through the tears coating your esophagus. “Yerim, please, he’s just drunk. The wedding is messing with his head, making him nostalgic. I doubt he’ll even remember any of this. We were wrong to not tell you about our connection sooner, and I’m sorry about that. It just took us all by surprise and we didn’t know how to bring it up.”

She glares at you, but it doesn’t hold as much fire as it had prior, so you continue.

“And your sister wanted to tell you. She was pressuring me the whole time to do it, but it never felt like the right time. God, Yerim, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this trip to become such a mess.”

Your body is shaking again, and your voice wobbles as you push through that damned lump. God you hate this. Hate that Chanyeol had to go around and kiss you, hate that your connection to him is causing someone you care deeply for to hurt. Hate that despite everything, a part of you is wanting to answer his call and run to his room, to apologize for everything and wrap yourself into his familiar embrace. 

As if one of your friends could tell you need comfort, hands are pulling at you, spinning you around to crush you against a firm chest. The action calms you, allows you to focus on your breathing.

“You should have told me,” Yerim continues coldly. “You’re the reason why he kicked me out of our room, the reason he broke off whatever this was we had. If you had told me I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have….”

She finally breaks. A sob leaves her body involuntarily, and she covers her mouth in an attempt to hold them in. Seulgi takes a step towards her to comfort her, but she holds up a hand, warding her back as she tries to calm down. 

The urge to cry has passed and you think you can stand on your own. Lifting your head, you see Baekhyun gazing down at you sympathetically, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. You give him a small smile as thanks, and he matches it in reply.

“I want to go home.”

The statement makes everyone’s head turn to the little girl breaking down in the doorway.

“What?” Seulgi is the one to ask.

“I said I want to go home. Now.”

“But the wedding….” Sehun starts.

“Who gives a fuck about the wedding!” Yerim shouts. “These are your friends, not mine! You’ve made that perfectly clear! I don’t want to be here anymore! I don’t want to see any of you again!”

“Let’s go inside,” Seulgi offers, voice gentle and calming. “Let’s just sit down and think through everything, okay?”

“Fine,” Yerim huffs before stomping back into the suite, having everyone share a glance before tiptoeing in after her, piling around the living area.

Yerim slouches on the couch, arms crossed defiantly, eyes on the floor, refusing to acknowledge any of you.

Understandable. Hell, you can’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes either as you slide onto the floor, leaning against one of the large windows, far away from the girl, guilt gnawing at you.

“Seulgi,” Yerim starts, everything about her exhausted. “Will you please search flights for tonight?”

“It’s too late,” Seulgi argues. “And you brought such a beautiful dress for the ceremony. How about I find something for later? You can leave after the wedding, before the reception.”

Yerim lets out a long resigned sigh. “Whatever.”

Taking a deep breath, you draw up your legs, resting your chin on your knees. The silence is overwhelming, and you need to fill it. 

“Chanyeol and I met in our first year of college.” Everyone’s head whips over to you, but you don’t notice, eyeing your knees as though you just discovered them. This is not what you thought you were going to say, but now you have to continue. “We met through Baekhyun. That’s how I met pretty much all of them, actually. How I met Seulgi. Sehun was the only one I knew before. Anyways, I’ve dated before but Chanyeol was different. He always was. I knew. From the moment we were introduced, I knew that he was the one. We both did, I think. It didn’t take long for us to start dating, and it was easy to be with him.”

You take a deep breath and try not to get lost in the past. “We were together all four years of college, and it was at the end of our senior year that Chanyeol proposed, right before our graduation.

“That’s when everything started falling apart,” you reveal in a small voice. “There was just so much we were juggling. Finals, graduation, careers, and now planning a wedding. We were fighting a lot, and I started to doubt the strength of our relationship. I also started to doubt myself. A part of me always felt like I was never good enough to be with Chanyeol. That he would grow tired of me, or find someone more beautiful, someone who understood his interests more, who didn’t call him stupid whenever he made a joke. And because of that fear, I just became Chanyeol’s Girlfriend. For four years, I was constantly by his side, trying to be perfect for him, and I lost myself along the way. Once I realized I was planning on doing that forever, I started panicking. The ring around my finger started feeling like a trap, like it was constricting me. I needed to discover myself, find out the things I, as an adult, as a woman,as me, enjoyed. I needed freedom. So… I called off the engagement.”

You hear numerous gasps throughout the room and remember everyone else. Well, it’s about time the others knew anyway. Neither you nor Chanyeol ever revealed the true reason behind your separation. You did it out of selfishness, afraid you’d be labeled a villain and lose everyone over your decision. When it comes to Chanyeol’s silence, well, you don’t know for sure. But, knowing him, he probably did it for the same reason you did. He was always protecting you.

“That was three years ago,” you press on, lifting your gaze to Yerim so that she knows you’re now addressing her. “Yesterday was the first time we’ve spoken or seen each other since. I’ve had zero contact with him. I had no idea he was bringing a date, let alone that it was you, and I doubt he even knew your connection to us. This wasn’t some elaborate plan to hurt you, Yerim. None of us would ever do that to you, especially Chanyeol.”

“He may be an asshole,” Baekhyun speaks for the first time tonight. “But he’s not cruel. If he ended things with you, it was because he didn’t want to lead you on. Knowing him, it was probably an attempt to protect you from himself.”

It’s eerie how Baekhyun’s statement mirrors your thoughts, but it’s truly just a testament of Chanyeol’s character.

He’s not a bad guy. Just a big idiot.

Now that your story has been told, all eyes are on Yerim as she absorbs all this new information. 

“Okay,” she says so quietly you nearly miss it. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

You can only nod.

She goes to stand. “I’m going to bed.” She points at you. “I don’t want you here.”

Your shoulders slump for the nth time today, but you understand. Just because you finally confessed your past affair with her ex whatever-he-is doesn’t mean you automatically gain her forgiveness.

“She can stay with me,” Sehun says.

“And you.” She turns her attention to her sister. “You can stay in her room.”

Seulgi deeply frowns, but nods nonetheless, aware of the role she played in all of this.

“Night. See you all at the wedding, I guess.” Yerim shuffles out of sight, softly closing the door behind her.

“We should get going also,” you say. “Big day tomorrow.”

You head over to your room, changing into some pajamas and grabbing your purse and phone charger, the essentials. 

When you’re back in the living area, the boys are all hovering by the door, waiting for you, while Seulgi slumps on the couch. Her legs spread wide, arms limp at her side, and head tilted over the back of the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You call her name and she turns her head down to gaze blankly at you. “I’m sorry. I know, I should’ve done this yesterday.”

She waves off your apology. “You were going to tell her earlier and I stopped you. It’s my fault just as much as yours. See you tomorrow.”

You all give your farewells and exit the stuffy room. You take the few steps to Sehun’s, he opens the door and you’re slightly surprised when the other boys trail in after you.

You crowd around Sehun’s island.

“So….” Baekhyun purses his lips as he fixes you with a knowing look. “The mystery is finally solved.”

“Do you hate me now?” You ask quietly. You trace random patterns into the cool marble face of the counter. 

“Why would we hate you?” 

“For not telling you. For being the one to break Chanyeol’s heart. He was your friend before I was, I understand if you want to be on his side now.”

“Hey now,” Jongin starts gently, rubbing your arm. “We have always respected your relationship. It’s none of our business why you ended, which is why none of us asked. I mean, of course we were all devastated, and have told both of you as much, but at the end of the day, we aren’t the ones dating. I’m just glad cheating wasn’t involved. That’s what I have always thought happened.”

“Yeah, and about tonight.” Baekhyun shakes his head. “That’s all Chanyeol. We told him to stop drinking the whole time we were out, even going so far as to hide the bottles from him, but he kept finding them! Tonight isn’t your fault, this trip isn’t your fault, so don’t beat yourself up over it, alright?”

“Why was he so drunk anyways?” You ask, leaning more heavily onto the counter.

The boys all share a look.

“He ‘broke up’ with Yerim,” Sehun explains. “And everything started hitting him. That Myeon is getting married and that, well, he didn’t.”

“I think a lot of things he had been shoving down just came out all at once and he didn’t really know how to handle it.” Baekhyun shrugs.

That doesn’t make you feel any better. Another ball of sorrow grows in your throat and you clear it, not wanting to cry, especially for other people. Licking your lips, you swear you can still taste him there, the bittersweetness of nostalgia and your own neglected feelings. 

“Are you going to be okay tomorrow?” Jongin asks, knowing you’re also going through the same thing as Chanyeol.

You nod. “Of course. I’m happy for Junmyeon, I’d never miss this.” Speaking of Junmyeon…. “Is…is Myeon okay?”

They all nod in affirmation. “He understood. Kept telling us to just let Chanyeol drink. He had a fun time, besides all that.” 

“Good. I’m glad. If Chanyeol had ruined his bachelor’s party, I’d have no choice but to kick his ass.”

“We’d have to jump him, for sure,” Sehun agrees.

You chat for a little bit longer. There’s a soft knock and Jongdae slips in with a rather large bottle of soju. You all drain it as you catch him up on all that he’s missed. The shock on his face from your revelation is enough to bring out a chuckle from you, which only grows when he holds a hand out to Baekhyun, demanding him to pay up. Apparently, Junmyeon will be getting some winning money as well. Assholes. 

Once the bottle of soju is empty and the boys are satisfied with the smile on your face, they take their leave.

The couch is large and comfortable enough to use as a bed, and after some back and forth with Sehun about your sleeping arrangements, you climb into your makeshift bed with the intention to finally give into the urge and cry yourself to sleep.

Sehun has other plans.

He crawls in after you, slipping soundlessly under the blanket he had room service bring up, and faces you wordlessly.

“Sehun,” you whine with a yawn. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t beat yourself up over what just happened.”

“What would make you think that?”

He rolls his eyes. “You can fool the others, but you can never fool me.”

“True,” you relent. “You know you were the only one that knew the truth, right? Not even Seulgi knew I was the one who called off the engagement.”

“Of course, I was. You can’t hide anything from me. I’ll admit, I did get a kick watching the others scramble and try to solve the mystery. Though, I’m shocked Chanyeol never told Baekhyun, even after all this time. It makes sense though. He’ll always put you first, even if that means ending things with his wedding date the day before said wedding.”

You bury your head into your pillow. Drunk Chanyeol consumed your mind. His desperate need for your forgiveness, the way his voice broke and his eyes searching for you as though your presence alone was enough for him, and that kiss…. 

“I can’t believe he kissed me.”

You wish he hadn’t. Not just because it exposed your shared secret to Yerim, but because of the implications of it. With that kiss you are forced to admit that Seulgi was right, that Chanyeol still has deep feelings for you, and that you—

“It was bound to happen.” Sehun breaks your train of thought. “He was fucked up. Like, he would not shut up about you. As soon as he got a little tipsy, it was you this, you that. How much he missed you, how proud he was of you. ‘How is it possible that she’s gotten even more beautiful since college? Baekhyun, didn’t you tell me she got fat?’ Junmyeon was like ‘she’d still be just as beautiful if she had gained weight’ and this fool goes, ‘god, I know’ and takes two shots back to back. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so damn pathetic.”

You let out a breathless laugh at Sehun’s terrible impersonation of Chanyeol, but peek up at the man. “He really said that?”

“Yeah.” Sehun says your name. “I know we had this conversation earlier, but you have to talk to him. All the things that were holding you back then don’t apply now. You both have grown a lot and are in better places. It’s never too late to start again. Chanyeol wants it, and I know you do too. You’re just latching onto a grudge you created against him to keep you away. It’s baseless, you know? And it’s a lie. You’re very obviously still in love with him. Soulmates work that way.”

“Soulmates,” you repeat skeptically, before sighing. “You’re right though, as you always are—”

“Finally, some gotdamn recognition around here,” he interrupts.

“Anyways, I should have talked to Chanyeol earlier. Really talked to him, not this back and forth dance we’ve been doing. But, there was no way I was going to talk about us when he had a girlfriend, who just so happened to be my friend. The best option was to just ignore him.”

“That was smart of you, but he doesn’t have a date anymore. We’re going to be here for three more days, the two of you still have plenty of time to talk. Get your closure and figure out what you want with him. If there is one thing the past couple days have shown, it’s that both of you have a lot to get off your chests.”

“You’re right.”

He smirks. “I know~”

“Ugh.” You finally settle into the blankets and close your eyes, expecting Sehun to head back to his bed, but he makes no point to move. “Are you going to stay here all night?”

“Are you going to cry soon?” He counter asks.

You check. To be honest, you feel a lot better after talking to Sehun. Your mind is a lot clearer. “No.”

“Either way, I’ll just stay here until you sleep. That way I know for sure.”

You groan. “How the hell am I supposed to sleep with you watching me?”

“Easily.”

And he is right. Once you’re comfortable, you’re out like a light.

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[beckface]

A concept: the narrator is just some guy that lives in-between dimensions and voices over the daily lives of people from fair city. He wants to visit the universe someday but knows that if he does, there's a strong chance of never returning to his sacred recording room/pocket dimension.

The narrator takes on a much more human appearance than others would expect from a normally disembodied voice. Is he actually a human? No one knows!

The narrator as just some guy I love it

I’d imagine he’d look like Chris Parnell, his VA

How did he get his ascension. If he’s human like us maybe he fucked around with some stuff he shouldn’t have... dudee what if he was like a scientist and then did some crazy stuff and is now stuck in a void, cursed to forever be a voice in the clouds, finding only solace in watching over the funny little alien girl and her day-to-day life, and he was helpless to watch Steven suffer a bad fate like he did when his negligence with an experiment also resulted in unwanted results. 

Maybe he teases Tobey about his crush because before he got sent into this void dimension there was someone back home who he never got to tell how he felt, and now he feels like it would be cruel to tell them as just a voice.

None of that is canon in the slightest the man is fine he clearly has a life. But like what if 

If he wasn’t human what WOULD he be, i’ve seen some people cast him as an alien like Becky who just figured out how to watch earth, and some just leave him as this unexplainable figure. For like a week straight I was obsessed with the thought that maybe he’s one of Becky’s bio family members that passed away in the vague war that we decided was happening on Lexicon.

Something goes wrong, a villain snaps and takes it too far, before he even knows what’s happening he throws himself in this dimension to stop it. Now there is no one pulling the strings from up above, and he’s just on earth, and he has no idea how to get back. That would be such a cool story, imagine he IS a disembodied doesn’t know how to do physical things so Becky’s got to help him without being suspicious

or if we go with the dimension traveler thing what if he’s just rick from rick and morty and he’s technically a human but he’s made himself so powerful that he can do whatever he wants within the multiverse, and after years of screwing around he retired to his little recording booth originally just to watch earth, but couldn’t help himself when observing Fair City and just HAD to join in. He got found familied by Becky, she can’t keep getting away with this

The show’s meta humor is mean to me like he’s just some guy but he’s also so much more and if we think about it for too long we’ll explode

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

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*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[hhhecates]

New Jujutsu Kaisen hc because I like to suffer and I got this idea after my sign language inumaki hc.

Okay, so... we all know that in animes there's usually that one really stoic and aloof character whose friends are complete fucking idiots and they just have to deal with them, so most of the times they are just annoyed as fuck?? (Yes, I am completely using fushiguro, nobara and itadori's friendship dynamics as a reference)

And we also know that at some point, maybe because faced with their past or because they actually risked to lose their friends, there's that one scene when the stoic character looks at their two dumbass friends arguing over something trivial and they are staring at them from the sidelines,,, and suddenly they just burst into this soft precious smile with rosy cheeks because they realize how much they care for these two idiots even if they drive them crazy?? And everyone looks back at the stoic character completely fucking baffled because what??? They had never seen them smile before and it's just so heartwarming??

But now, just consider sarcastic and annoying reader, soft spoken and polite to the point of mockery towards higher ups and loud and stubbornly undaunted when crossed. Reader is basically the pissy intj of the situation who is halfway between self-deprecating and god complex (gojo probably raised them lol, let's be real). And contrary to the stoic character, who's a little tsundere sometimes?? and who doesn't want to admit they care, intj reader just doesn't care. They don't want to. They don't know if it's worth it and are probably afraid that it's not.

Imagine them being a second year, and they're infamous because as much as you'd like to hate them (and prob a lot of people do) their "friends" really can't. Because reader is all about gratuitous sarcasm and soiled stubbornness that makes you roll your eyes, but they are also the first one to believe in Maki with everything they have got when she talks about her family history, they're the one that silence harshly the petty remarks of the Zenin whenever the most important families in Jujutsu meet, and no, it's not because they think maki can't fight her own battles, they'd never dare open their mouth to defend her because they know maki's own actions and achievements speak much louder, but they will never tolerate the Zenin's disrespect towards her.

They are the one that secretly buy books about sign language to learn it for inumaki, and before that they had an evergrowing list of his onigiri vocabulary on the noteapp of their phone. They're the ones that stay to the dorms with Panda when the others go get snacks because Panda can't really go out on their own, and reader always brushes it off by saying that they don't like going out anyways. They're the one that firstly greeted Yuuta with a half smile, tired but not forced nor fake, and called Rika a "pretty girl" because while she might have looked "just so scary", reader knew better than to dismiss the little girl still behind that "scary" appearance.

Reader is the one that exasperatedly yells at fushiguro, bite in their voice but none in their words, when they tell him that his thoughts and concerns are real and valid. They are the one that huff at itadori's sulking about sukuna and flick his forehead, then reassuring him not to have regrets for wanting to save people's lives when he ate that damn finger and that "whatever stupid thing you do, your senpais will have your back". Reader is the one that tries out new bakeries for Nobara in their free time so that she doesn't have to visit every single one in order to find Saori, and then brings her back her favourite pastries. And they're still the one that when gojo whines loudly, halfway between truly joking and self-deprecating, sigh at him and say in a joking tone "You might be standing alone as the strongest, but that doesn't mean that you always need to stand alone, you know that right?".

And it's so frustrating, because if any of the people at Jujutsu High was to be asked to describe reader, probably that would still leave every single one of them with their mouth hanging open in search of words, because they are annoyingly stubborn and loud, probably a little bit pretentious too, they're also soft and caring and attentive.

But they also know nothing more, nothing else about them. So what the fuck are they supposed to say??

Now, imagine that it all comes tumbling down one day, the elders come to Tokyo Jujutsu High to take reader with them (I imagine reader being like part of one of the main families, not the main threes, maybe a really important one just for the politics?? And the kind that just marries off their children to the three main families in exchange of retaining a high position, and like reader wasn't even born into it, they were adopted because they had like a really strong cursed technique or smth, that's why people from Jujutsu High didn't know who they were, cause they kept their old surname and basically escaped from their old life, cause fuck it, if the elders want them just to be someone's spouse, they are gonna be petty like that and become one of the best sorcerers instead).

For the first time they see reader scared out of their fucking mind, cause no, they don't want for their friends and their teacher to see them like this, to get their past thrown back at their face and drag everyone down with them. It makes them feel weak and helpless, and they fucking despise it.

But ofc no one there is gonna have any of the elders shit, gojo in the first place, and the second years too, boi they are so pissed, the first years just throw all caution towards the elders outta the window, cause they don't care.

They just refuse to hand reader over like they're not their own person.

And let's say they manage to send the elders back empty handed (for now at least, cause yes, I have more hc). But everyone if so fucking shocked??? And naturally now they see reader in a completely different light. And they treat them differently too.

And of course reader notices, how could they not, and they feel so disgusted cause they don't want their pity, they don't need it, they had spent already enough time pitying themselves.

But the thing is that they aren't acting like this out of pity, they don't pity reader, quite the opposite, they just see them as stronger. Because now they saw that reader too has weaknesses and insecurities, and all those things that reader calls disgusting and tries to hide, all those things that make reader agonizingly human. All those things that make them even more of a precious and admirable friend in everyone's eyes.

And so like, imagine that reader has closed themselves off in their dorm room, and no one is allowed in. They come out just late at night to take something to eat, but this time, they find everyone there in the kitchen/living room or whatever, and when they see reader coming all of them start stumbling on their words: the first years and their calls of "senpai! Please don't go back!" fushiguro is there too, and even maki looks worried, inumaki is weirdly serious, yūta visibly wants to speak but can't seem to find the right words and gojo sensei is there too, trying to silence everyone because of course, he is the teacher so "I need to be the first talking!".

And reader is just there, standing and watching all the people they care about the most argue and stutter. And it's a whole fucking mess, but it's okay, because reader is a bit of a mess too, and afterall who isn't?

And suddenly they all turn around to look back at reader because they be on the floor laughing their ass off at the scene, and then they stop laughing and look back at them with the biggest and yet softest smile ever.

And they take everyone's breath away, not because they had never seen reader smiling or laughing, they have, they do it plenty of times, but it's never like this. It's never this happy.

And it's in that moment that reader understands. They see it, and it's as clear as a day. They want to care. They care so fucking much. Because them, all of them, they are worth it.

.

.

.

Wheew, this turned out to be longer than expected,,, I’m so sorry shsjsksk. Also, thank you SO much for everyone who read, commented or liked my previous headcanon about inumaki knowing sign language, I really didn’t think anyone would read it, I just wrote it for shit and giggles but and now I don’t know how to respond???Also maybe I’ll be posting more of these, like a series with this reader? Yeah, I really can’t keep my mouth shut so lol.

[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

-

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

[sugar-petals]

SuperM: Their Orgasm Faces

a/n. i’ve written the same scenario for bts and thought this is perfect for these guys as well 💦

warnings ⚠️ multiple rounds, masturbation, loud sex, crying

➸ Taemin Constant little trembles. Puffy lips and a huge back arch. Softly moving hips that know exactly what they’re doing, reacting to your every touch. Balmy moans for the gods, they’re such a giant turn-on. His face looks so soft and relaxes into the pleasure without restraint. And my god, the hair. It’s like an old Italian painting. The voice is just as indulging — all those little “ha...” noises he makes. So lush and super breathy. Long story short: He looks perfect in the unlikely case someone forgot. What more can I tell you. He’s broadcasted it to the entire world at this point. In fact, isn’t Taemin’s entire cinematic work a silk and satin-laced compilation of o-faces? Even his haters can’t deny that. He has the perfect variety, perfect sensuality. Never out of place, never too feeble nor too much. He doesn’t just show that to you in bed, he truly owns it. Taemin’s orgasms are really drawn out, it’s the most amazing spectacle. So much to see: And you never know when the first one ends and the second one starts. He’s that erotic and completely swayed by you. If there’s one person completely in tune with his arousal and amps it up to the maximum, and takes you higher yourself with him, that’s Lee Taemin. He cums more beautifully than anyone you’ve ever seen. Fuck, it feels like you have to write him a ten-page thank you letter for being able to witness that. One word suffices: he’s fantastic.

➸ Taeyong You won’t believe it. He is so handsome, but he tries to hide his face. Or buries his hands in his hair, and twists himself to the side. Sometimes, into a pillow. Othertimes, a blanket or a sleeve. Taeyong doesn’t like his pleasure being seen. He’s not just shy; he’s reserved, delicately cautious. He’d rather have his hair fall into his face and conceal all the sweet emotions that surface. His lips are tightly shut and more often than not, he looks away. Even when he’s by himself getting off to the thought of you, he can’t keep his head up. It’s a shame, but you also figure it’s because he gifts himself to you to be very protected, not judged or consumed. Taeyong needs your guidance and strength. That’s why you hug him and let his face rest in the crook of your neck, and it becomes his favorite spot to lean into when he’s coming. Taeyong is more reassured this way. His eyebrows raise and he’s giving you the most heavenly whimpers. It overwhelms him every time. But that’s the place where he can finally moan it out. His voice is so gorgeous, and desperate, and full of gratitude towards you. When he really trusts you, he’s — god — actually grunting in his deep voice and sometimes meets your eye fleetingly. Or sucks in air and holds it before his whole body erupts. Oh my god. Those thighs are gonna go through an entire earthquake. Truth be told: NCT didn’t lie when they sang about a volcano, did they.

➸ Jongin Come on. The main dancer who has his face all up in a camera every stage, making people worldwide bust a nut by just raising a corner of the mouth. If there’s one person with the best, most intense facial expressions? It’s Kai all the way. Just throw the OSCAR right at him. Matter of fact, we all know he is the king of being absolutely stunning in bed. Jongin always looks like he wants to take you in completely, his entire upper body goes forward. His eyes are deep and glistening, but not fully mysterious. First and foremost they’re hundred percent passion just as you’d expect from him. The brows, the fucking brows! The lips, mumbling, and the jaw is in motion even if you wouldn’t pay attention to it at first. And by contrast, he looks more in love than anyone else. Can we appreciate how romantic Kai’s vibe is? How does he do it? He yearns and calls you babe, the entire face feels twitching and shaky. As if he was suffering from being so enamoured, but it feels so good to him. Every new thrust makes his expression change a bit. How he’s allowing himself to feel you literally paints a living story on his features. Toward the middle and the end of his climax, Kai looks so vulnerable and lost in the pleasure that you gave him or he gave himself. It’s almost like he is underwater. If you ever look into those dreamy eyes... Kai’s orgasm face will put an actual spell on you. Have a guess. The spell is called: Make you even hornier and throw your fucking head back from all that good stuff.

➸ Mark Yeah, uh-oh. The bomb is going off right here. It feels like Mark didn’t fuck for literal months every time even if you had sex the other day. His jaw is hanging open throughout. The eyes wide. Lips shivering, only a little. A bit of saliva is pooling just there. Then, his head falls forward. Hair in his eyes, brows clenched toward the middle. He looks like he can’t believe it, he’s helpless to the power it has over him. His orgasm darts through his body like a thunderbolt. You got it, sex with Mark is exactly that, so electric. It arrives fast and it’s over fast. And it’s massive, catches him off guard so often. A big, sweeping “Ah—h!” that carries him away like a tidal wave. Who’s the living super car in SuperM? That’s Mark Lee who goes through his climax like he’s watching a train speed by. What can he do but curse himself and moan. Something is possessing this poor man. His face looks like he has to keep up with his own damn reflexes. Can you imagine how hard his body is going to clutch if he just cums in one go? And if he tries to kiss you during that? What the fuck Mark! He just never calms down, does he. Or wait — fast forward... oh wonder: He falls asleep only minutes after. His face: now completely angelic. Mark really put all his heart and mind and cum into this one orgasm. This guy has dedication and it shows. He always delivers you one hell of a show. Rumor has it you have a couple videos of it on your phone.

➸ Baekhyun Clenches his teeth so hard. The first you’ll hear is a loud and whiny “nnh!” in the buildup. And that’s when you know he can’t go back. The entire neck seems under pressure. He stares. Gasps for air. The breathing, raw as fuck. Up and down goes that chest all the way against you. In fact, he breathes the fastest in the group. His face gets so heated. All those veins come out. This guy’s blood flow is a new level. Releasing tons of stress and energy. His eyes are squeezed shut as soon as it begins because it’s so strong and relieving, it’s borderline painful. He couldn’t speak for the first five seconds even if he tried. Only the second wave brings out a stifled chain of moans that he surrenders to. On some days, he even starts crying from relief. It takes minutes upon minutes until he cools off entirely. Baekhyun is so orgasmic, he’s all splayed out on the bed afterwards or deeply engrossed in your embrace for endless cuddles. I’m telling you. Should you ever get a second orgasm out of him, he’s gonna be reduced to a puddle. A shaking, sobbing mess that can’t stop wailing. There’s only begging for more in these eyes. It goes without saying that you need the most sound-proof room there ever was because he is at the top of his voice. Baekhyun being loud for you is a natural staple. PS: Mark my words. Should you get him to a third orgasm, he’s gonna be screaming without a pause and his fucking tongue is hanging out. 

➸ Yukhei As if he can ever stop wiggling his brows at you. Did you expect he just lets loose and rolls his eye back? No, no. He keeps looking right at you until the end. Full Xuxi confidence and charisma at play. Lots of nicknames coming at you, he’s gonna say them all. That level of eye contact is gonna get you going big time. You know how large and wonderful his eyes are, like a doe’s. Lucas hardly closes them unless it comes to getting blowjobs. Where he’s gonna look at you very intensely most of the time anyway. Lucas tries to not let the sensations overcome him so he remains present with you. He never really seems like he indulges all the way like Taemin or Kai would. The whole thing is pretty suspicious because he doesn’t fully ease into your interplay of movements. Guess why... at any point, he’s invested in making you cum and keeps on pulling out his magic tricks until you’re getting there. He’s gonna use those big fucking hands (he knows you love ‘em) and goes on and on until he has you there. Yukhei’s personality is all over the place, but he has steely concentration during sex. Not to mention the technique. He’s even gonna go for pushing his hair back as a killing part. No mediocre, he’s doing the most. After all: Lucas cums the best if he just saw you losing it or you’re on the way. Synchronizing your orgasms is difficult, but he puts all his focus into achieving just that. Yukhei is an expert in how close you are after a while, and even starts letting himself fall back into the sheets below you when you release together. 

➸ Ten Perfectly understated. Lids heavy, lips opened just a bit. Elegant, almost, and chesty in tone. He’s the connoisseur. My god. It’s the most gentlemanly someone could ever cum. His forehead is so sweaty as is his hair and back, because if Ten fucks he does it properly, but still. He’s so calm. He could be in your arms for more than half an hour and be fully composed. The focus and self-control is just phenomenal. Completely in the moment, not missing a heartbeat. Which is such a hard thing to do but it’s effortless with him. Ten knows the value of moderation and tension. He’s not keeping his groans in for the whole time and only moans when he comes. Not at all. It’s a different story with him. It all builds up perfectly and comes out freely whenever. He’s actually pretty close to singing, his voice accompanies his breathing in ideal sync. So melodic. Ten is all smitten by you. Nothing is kept in. He looks at you so fondly, he enjoys himself so much. So, it becomes a beautiful loving serenade. His face doesn’t make any sudden or extreme contortions either. The expression moves and changes very slowly, is very easy on the eye. Every minute with him is fulfilling. Ten is all wrapped up in the mood and the groove like it’s business. Prepare to lose your fucking mind, these are new levels of feeling good. Not one awkward moment, just making love. Oh my god are you lucky.

art: The Great Wave off Kanagawa (1829-33) — by Hokusai

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I’m Yours, You’re Mine | 1

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Smut, future angst

Summary:  You’ve always wished to take a more dominant role in bed, but Chan just wasn’t having it. So when you see an opportunity to do just that with Felix, you can’t help yourself. But you soon come to regret your drunken decision for a reason other than that you’d cheated on your boyfriend with his own bestfriend.

A/N: I’ll be posting this series in tiny increments like this. mad strats

Warnings: Cheating, yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!reader, kinda-public sex, reader makes felix jerk himself off in a bar lmao

___________________

Part 2

Music blares out all around you and the bar's strobe lights flash on the inside of your eyelids as you swing your head back to down the shot in your hand, shaking your head in distaste as the liquor burns down your throat and shifting around in Felix's lap. You stop moving completely however when you feel something hard pressing against your ass.

Your immediate instinct is to get off his lap, and you move to do just that when his hands spring forward and grab onto your hips, pinning you down to his thighs.

“Please, stop moving, noona.” He grunts, his low tone vibrating through your body as he grabs onto your hips for dear life. He sounded so helpless and panicked and you're instantly filled with the urge to hear more, to hear him really beg.

Experimentally, you lean back against him, molding your back to his chest and plopping your ass snuggly between his thighs and against his crotch, shivering when he groans and his grip on you turns deathly-tight. "Please…"

The gruff plea is delicious to your ears, and you feel your panties stick to your lips at the sound of it. You move against him again, this time to alleviate some of your own need rather than to make him suffer, but he still does anyway, burying his face in your shoulder and moaning lowly so only you can hear. “Noona…”

Electricity runs through your body, setting your nerves alight and kicking your mind into overdrive as the boy beneath ever-so-subtly starts grinding his dick into your ass. You know it’s wrong. You have a boyfriend--his own best friend--but you’re drunk and all your better instincts are shut off, and all you that your foggy mind is capable of thinking about right now is how to make the boy sound even more desperate. 

“Let's dance." Mark slurs loudly, rudely jolting the both of you out of your trance, and you almost curse Mark out loud for making Felix stop. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Minho joins in, too loudly for your taste, and you hear the rest of your group hum their agreement. Chan’s bleary eyes settle on you and he smiles lazily, reaching out to you to join him, but you gently decline his offer. 

"I'm not in the mood, babe. I'm gonna hang back here with Lixie.” You turn to Felix, making sure to drive your ass into his dick as you do so. “That is if you don’t mind keeping me company?"

This is the moment of truth. If he’s not into this too, he’ll go with Chan. He should. It’s the right thing to do, but you really wish he won’t. You’re not ready to let this moment go yet.

"Of course not." Felix squeaks, shaking his head vigorously and you can't help the smile that spreads across your lips at his quick answer. Chan hangs back for a second, flitting his eyes between you and the red-faced Felix before he shrugs and follows the others to the dance floor.

Once he’s out of sight, you turn towards Felix, once again rubbing against his crotch and eliciting a whimper from him, which you respond to scoldingly, "I'm your hyung's girlfriend, silly boy." 

“It’s not what you think. ” Felix defends himself in an unusually high-pitched voice for him. “It’s not about you, I swear.”

You know he’s lying. You've seen the way he looks at you before--the looks Chan was blind to because he would never even think to suspect that his best friend, his little brother practically, is lusting after his girlfriend. You had ignored it, not really caring for the boy's little crush. But right now, with how needy and vulnerable he's being, you suddenly want to eat him alive.

“It’s not?” You ask, and he shakes his head, face once again hidden in the fabric of your top. That wouldn’t do. Getting off of his lap, you cup his chin and pull his face up so he will look at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He answers in a small voice, cowering slightly under your scrutinizing gaze and you let him stew in his panic for a minute before smoothening your expression over. "This is all a big misunderstanding then."

His shocked eyes snap to yours, hardly believing that you fell for his obvious lie but relieved about it nonetheless. "Yes, yes it is." 

"I understand." You say sympathetically, letting him think he’s off the hook for a second, before adding, "But others might not. Especially Channie."

The panic is back on his face full-force and you have to actively hold back the massive grin that wants to spread across your face. "Please don't tell him."

"I won't, but he could come right now and see you. You need to fix it." You explain, watching how his eyes search yours frantically like you hold the secret to his salvation. “How?”

“Touch yourself.” You state simply, and he jerks back, sputtering, “W-what?”

You roll your eyes and mime a handjob with your hand. "Jerk off."

His face looks like it’s about to melt off from the mortification, obviously taken aback at your vulgar words and gesture. 

“Yes, noona.” He finally breathes out, making to get up but you roughly push him back down. “No. Right here, dummy.”

He gapes at you, "In front of everyone?" In front of… you?”

“If you do it fast and quietly enough, no one will know." You shrug and he shakes his head violently.  “Noona, I can’t---”

“Do you want Chan to see?" You cut him off sharply, annoyed that he's not being as obedient as you had hoped he would. "Do you want him to know how his best friend is a horny little pervert?”

He pales at that, “No. I don’t.”

“Do it then.” You stare at him coldly and he gulps and nods, his hands shaking as he reaches down to undo his pants, but you quickly slap them away. "You can't take your dick out in public, you pervert.” 

“But you said--” He cuts himself off with a whine as you grab his hand and press it against the bulge in his pants. “Do it over your pants." 

Swallowing back the last of his protests, he nods. "Yes, noona."

You can’t believe he's actually doing it, the poor boy clumsily pawing at his hard dick through his pants at your behest, barely letting out little moans and gasps as he pleasures himself, but they’re enough to set you completely on fire. You fight the urge to slip your own hand down your pants and rub one off to the gorgeous boy at your mercy, but you can’t. You need to stay composed. 

“Does it feel good?” You can’t help but ask and Felix looks at you with panic, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I--what--”

Of course he can’t reply to that. He can’t openly admit that this is turning him on. He’s loyal to Chan and you’re Chan’s girlfriend. Still, you can’t help but press on, "Are you imagining it's me touching you?" 

"No!" He squeaks out as you grip his thigh tightly. "Of course. You wouldn't wanna do anything to betray your hyung." 

"I don't.” He agrees, voice choked off as he runs his palm over the length of his dick that was now clearly imprinted in his pants. 

“Good boy.” You purr, taking note of how he would react. When he shudders at the praise, you gain more confidence, pulling his thigh towards you and spreading his legs further apart. He whines even louder at that, his hips bucking up into his hand.  "You'd never really want me to touch you. You're a good, loyal boy." 

"I'm a good boy." He agrees as he humps his hand.

God, you've only ever dreamt of something like this in your fantasies. All the boys you've been with before have never let you do this to them or to even talk to them like that, and you find that you like it even more than you thought you would.

"Yes, you are.” You coo, delighted, but your smile falls as you notice someone heading your way. Cold dread sweeps over your body as reality washes over you, sobering you up from the booze and the sex. “Felix, stop! Chan is coming.” 

He straightens up immediately, eyes flitting through the crowd of people until they land on Chan’s approaching form. 

“No. So close” He breathes out, his hips rutting desperately into his hand, trying to cum before Chan arrives. He’s so close, you can tell, but he’s not quite there yet, and you know he’s not gonna make it so you grab his hand and pin it down next to him on the seat as Chan approaches.

“No!” Felix wails, collapsing into your side. 

"Woah! Felix, are you okay?" Chan rushes the last few steps over, stumbling a little from how drunk he is. 

"He’s okay.” You rush to say, keeping Chan at bay so he wouldn’t come too close. “He just needs some water."

“Oh, okay. I'll go get him some.” 

"Thanks, babe." You reply gratefully, and when Chan is far enough away, you brush Felix off you, sharply telling him to get himself together. He gets whiplash from your sudden cold attitude.

"Noona?" He asks hesitantly, and you snap at him. "You almost got us caught, you idiot!" 

He pouts, his eyes getting watery. "I'm sorry, noona. I'll do better next time." 

"Next time?” You ask in disbelief, “There will be no next time. In fact, this never happened."

 "But it did--" He glares at you.

"Shut your mouth. Chan is back." You hiss quietly then turn to your boyfriend with a tight smile. "Thanks, babe."

You grab the water from him and open it before handing it to Felix. “Drink up, lixie."

He doesn’t move, staring you down angrily, and for a split second you’re terrified he’ll reveal everything to Chan right then and there. But then he breaks eye contact, grabbing the bottle from your hand and gulping down mouthfuls of it. 

“Is Felix okay?” Chan asks, unsure, and you turn to him with the biggest smile you can muster. “Yeah, he’s just fine. How about we go for that dance you wanted earlier?” 

“But I just danced.” Chan whines as you stand up and link your arms with him, dragging him away from the table. 

“Without me so it doesn’t count.” You giggle and kiss his cheeks and he relents. 

You throw one last glance back at Felix and you feel your heart skip a beat at the dark look on his face. This was certainly far from over. 

_____________

A/N: next chapter is hopefully lixie in a kitty maid outfit uwu feedback keeps me going and makes me upload faster :))))

[mrpenguinpants]

Hey... Hey...

Get this... If Khaenri’ah’s people are truly the Abyss Order as a result of the cataclysm 500 years ago... Then layer that fact onto the Kaeya Hilichurl theory, and you have a recipe for even greater angst...

I can imagine it now, as the cataclysm begins and everything has grown to hell. It’s chaos and hellfire everywhere, we see Kaeya’s lovely/friend/whatever you want witnessing the moment people around them corrupt... and they run, run, run as far as they can. But the corruption just gains faster and it eventually they’re engulfed by it.

Now imagine a Dainsleif encountering our protagonist almost corrupt and he saves them with the only goal of preventing them from losing their sanity. Imagine the guilt, Dainsleif felt knowing he failed - someone he knew that was cared for dearly by Kaeya is reduced to a hilichurl.

Buuut... imagine it happening slowly, transforming that’s is, hehe. Dainsleif is at a loss on what else to do because little protagonist is wrestling with the fact that they are no longer themselves. They look so different, no longer are they human.

Instead of hands they have mangled claws. Instead of neat hair they have a mane of hair. I know this is pretty redundant from previous posts about this topic, but I like going into nitty gritty details when it’s angst time.

I don’t really know what else to add so there’s that! I hope you enjoyed this angst bubble. That’s said I love your work (especially the Xiao stuff, yes very good).

Ohh I get to rub my gremlin hands together and talk about this again. But it's so weird to see this now that it's been confirmed that Khaenri'ah people are the Abyss Order. I'm getting flashbacks to some rude anon ask where someone called this theory dumb and I was stupid. Now I really wished I replied to that ask so I could laugh at them now. AM I WRONG NOW?? IS MY BRAIN NOT MASSIVE ENOUGH FOR YOU??? But I will say, the Kaeya Hilichurl theory is just an excuse for me to write angst. I thought that was obvious from the start but just to re-state: I'm pretty sure it's confirmed somewhere that Hilichurls aren't a part of Khaenri'ah.

You know what's even more sad?? Since I finally touched the Dainsleif quest, it's hinted that Dainsleif didn't do anything to protect Khaenri'ah and he just watched. While we don't know if that is 100% confirmed that he didn't do anything (I'm sure he tried or maybe the Gods stopped him) it makes it sad right? That he tried to save his people but couldn't, but then he meets you and thinks of you has his one atonement or that he was at least able to save his Prince's lover.

But you're slowly being corrupted into a monster, even with his immortality and abyssal powers, he can't stop it forever. Searching endlessly for some type of cure and chasing after the Abyss Order. He's never been good at emotions, that's how he lost his partner, that he feels so helpless.

Also I fucking love nitty gritty details so pop off honestly. Angst time is just a way for me to shove in as many sentences possible that are all about suffering lol. Also thank you so much!!

[renee-writer]

I found myself trying to hold back big tears as I was reading and really thinking about Mary recently.

Mary witnessed much of the horrific abuse her son endured that Friday.

Things no mother should ever have to even imagine, let alone witness.

Powerless and helpless, what could she do?

I imagine her running after him, easily willing to give her life to protect the man she held as a baby boy. The one who had her heart.

I imagine those with her holding her back as she sobbed, reminding her she could do absolutely nothing to protect her son.

She followed Jesus and the crowd up the hill to where He was nailed to a cross.

John 19:30 says, “When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciples whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “here is your mother”. From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

This is where I could no longer hold the tears in.

Because typically when I think about this story, my heart aches for Mary.

But when I read this, I saw Jesus, the man, as an actual son.

Who loved his mom.

Who, even though he was hung on a cross in the type of pain and agony we can not imagine…

He wanted to leave knowing she was taken care of.

He didn’t look around and make sure everyone else had someone to look after them- in that moment- it was his mom He was worried about.

I think this touched me so much, because sometimes I forget how human Jesus was, you know?

A baby who was held and nursed by her, a boy who was nurtured by her, and now a man who knew the love and comfort of His mom..

He had to say goodbye to her, and even as He was dying, He saw her. I can only imagine the heartache of our real-human-Jesus.

Perhaps you are watching a parent, or child, or someone you love suffer.

I just want to remind you.. you with the broken heart, you carrying the heavy burdens, you who feels broken..

This is Jesus. Fully human. Fully understanding of our emotions because He actually experienced them.

He’s also fully God. So when He meets you in your sorrow, He can do what other people can’t.

I just wanted you to know that He isn’t “too divine” to understand what you’re going through.

He’s not out of touch with our experiences.

Just look at how He loved His mom.

~Kelli Bachara

[dangermousie]

CFC 190

1. He Li is not the greatest human being, but I feel terrible for him -his whole world crashing and so publicly, being escorted to see his mother with newspapers salivating for a glimpse. Not to forget, he’s only 15. How nice that the fucking up of kids and teens continues.

2. Wei Rong also killed Chen Lisheng? Really? And not anyone else in the org? Hmmm.

3. I find it interesting that XQC can talk to WR so calmly. This is the woman who killed his parents and wrecked his whole life with the chain of events (hell, she had the car run him over and all the suffering that followed) and who He Yu, who he loved, died to bring to justice. But he’s still so calm. It reminds me of what he told HY back in the mental hospital when they thought XX might be dead - that he would keep going no matter what. That is both admirable and terrifying. Except for when he was a kid who tried to kill himself, he has never broken since. He is utterly broken as a person but he has never had that final crack - does that make sense?

4. XQC saying that the one good thing WR did was to have HY grow into a person different from He Li but the thing is - I suppose with a mother like that, neglect would be better than doting, but He Yu brought up himself with the guiding beacon of XQC’s presence and help of Vivian’s genetics (she was clearly the only OK person in that family) but the reason HY turned out to be a decent person is 99% to He Yu’s credit and is innate. He needed that anchor of XQC yes, but the fact is he was the kind of person for whom this was enough.

5. WR losing it and saying XQC brought up HY correctly, by sleeping with him like a prostitute. Lady, shut up! At least HY knew who he was sleeping with, which is more than I can say for his father. But she’s just lashing out, tryingto hurt as much as she can, with anything. Her saying XQC is the same as she, just using HY to avenge his parents and discarding him - wtf! First of all, XQC had no idea that is what HY was up to but also even if somehow he was, vengeance for parents’ murder is different in replacing some lady because you want to bang her husband and then embarking on the life of Lady Pablo Escobar.

6. What is Wei Rong’s fixation on pedigree and gay people? (Though if her attitude is shared by the org, which is clearly is, it explains why they were so quick to experiment on the poor - they really don’t see them as fellow humans.)

7. Now XQC is referred to as an ice sculpture. I love how often ice is associated with XQC (just as Meatbun in general is fond of the terms of cold and warm) - earlier it was as HY was melting that ice and now HY is gone and so it’s frozen more solid than ever, but this time, the ice won’t melt. It will just crack and shatter.

8. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!!!!! Duan Wen trusted HY because HY agreed to have a chip implanted! (All the stuff he left was before that, because once the chip is implanted, he’d not have been able to do it.) AND FUCKING DUAN WEN IMPLANTED IT IN THE HEART!!!! I was wondering why he didn’t tell the cops/XQC the truth during that last call and gun battle - it really would have been fine by then. It is because he literally couldn’t. I cannot imagine the degree of despair he was in - knowing the truth and not being able to reveal it, watching his damnation near helpless.

Also, how horrifying is it that Wei Rong watched the procedure - probably enjoying HY’s suffering and no exit situation. And I cannot even imagine what went through HY’s mind when he saw where it was implanted and that this is really no chance ever because if it’s on the wrist, perhaps you can remove a wrist, but how do you cut out your own heart! (Symbolism!) I do wonder what is with Meatbun and hearts - I love it how it’s a theme. Both CWN and Mo Ran have their cores cracked/dug out and Gu Mang pierces through Mo Xi’s heart with his weapon. It’s like a physical mark of the suffering of love. I can’t even imagine what went through HY’s heart as he realized what is happening and realizing he cannot ever get out because if he changed his mind on the operating table, Duan Wen would kill him, but if he did not, his life is OVER forever. All of a sudden, HY’s possibly missing limb is the least of his problems.

9. Wei Rong only says it to hurt but she is factually correct - the one who made HY despair and broke him is not her or the org but XQC. He Yu “died” on that ship in despair, died believing XQC betrayed him to his enemies, that XQC did not care on even a basic level, he “died” asking to be shot. And knowing what we know about the loyalty tracker in him, the fact that he had any sort of hope before that makes it all the more heartbreaking because it shows his faith in and dependence on XQC - that despite the terrible situation he was in, he still did not want to die and had some hope - he really is tenacious and able to hold on by his fingernails because that is how he was able to survive so far. But then Chen Man’s appearance pried those fingernails off one by one.

10. What the fuck!!! One of XQC’s eyes went blind when HY died? I sort of like the matching symmetry of one limb and one eye and also it makes me think of Gu Mang and his eyes but at this point, so much of the narrative really is about disassembling the both of them, not just on an emotional but on a physical level and just....

11. I love the description where he slept and it was dark and dreamless, no teddy bears or amusement parks, no endless weeping and wailing by him. It’s like he lost his humanity of even dreaming. Except when he woke up, one of his eyes is blind and there are blood and tears under it. GOD, what an image! (And I love Meatbun’s sentence about a world where nothing looks like it changed but because of a loss of a person, everything has changed - it’s so true with loss - it’s monumental for the loved ones but the world just revolves moving on, oblivious.) But also, this is clearly his subconscious demonstrating what he consciously refuses - his loss and grief and how symbolically he’s now not whole without HY, how a part of him is missing. He is going blind because He Yu, He Yu’s love and care, was the light in his life.

I kinda need a lie down now.

[loki--fics]

Stardust - Part 4

Loki x Reader

content warnings: cancer / illness mention

It had been almost two weeks since Loki's arrival at the tower, and you had begun to look forward to the afternoons spent with him in the library. He was always curious, asking questions about your cancer, and although you disliked talking much about it, you realised with him, you didn't mind. Loki seemed quite fascinated by how extensive this mortal illness was, and it seemed as though he never ran out of new questions to ask you about it.

"Hey," You said as you walked into the library. He still took to sitting in your favourite seat in the bay window, so you would always sit on the couch next to the window instead. To say Tony wasn't a huge fan of you spending so much time with Loki would be an understatement, but you didn't much care.

"Hello," Loki replied, looking up at you. You looked tired, he noticed, more so than usual, but he didn't comment on it.

You sat on the couch, grabbing the book you had started reading the day before - The Curious Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens. Just as you were getting tucked in to read, Loki cleared his throat.

"If you wish, you may sit up here as well," He said quickly, cursing himself in his mind. He wasn't sure why he'd said that, it wad stupid, but then you got up, smiling lightly as you took the seat next to him in the window, and it seemed okay.

"Thank you," You said, relishing in the feeling of the warm sun hitting your back. Loki looked at you, rays of golden sunlight basking your face, and he felt a warmth spread through his chest. His cheeks were pink, and you noticed, but thought maybe you were just imagining it. Loki? Blushing? No way.

"So," Loki said after a beat of silence. "What is that thing you lug around that goes into your nose?"

"It pumps oxygen, through the tube into my nose. I can't breathe very well without it."

"Ah. What of these... Growths? Would it not be simpler to have them removed?"

You sighed. "The cancer grew too quickly, they had tried to remove them, but they came back twice as fast. Eventually, they were declared inoperable."

Loki watched as you pulled the neckline of your sweater down a few inches, revealing the top of what he assumed was a quite lengthy scar. Without thinking, he reached a hand out and traced the scar ever so lightly as you watched, feeling goosebumps raise across your skin. You shivered at his touch, but not because you were afraid.

Hearing the soft gasp that escaped your lips as he touched your scar, Loki quickly retracted his hand, a blush painting his cheeks once more. "My apologies, I'm not sure what came over me."

"Please," You said softly. "Don't be sorry."

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, then Loki spoke once more. "Why do you do it?"

The question caught you off guard. "What?"

"You're in anguish. You let these chemicals and radiation ravage your body, they make you weak and tired, you're aware that they only just barely help, but yet you persist. Why?" Would it not be easier to simply end your suffering? The words sat on his lips unspoken, and even as he thought them he felt a pang in his chest. Loki, too, had grown quite fond of the time spent in the library with you, and the mere thought of no longer having that sent a jolt through him. You were his only friend here, he realised.

You weren't sure how to respond. You knew what he was thinking, and he was right - it would be much easier to just put an end to the misery and be done with it, get the hurt out of the way so your team had more time to heal and get on with living their lives. It was selfish, prolonging your suffering was only prolonging theirs as well.

When you didn't reply, Loki did. "I apologise if the question was... Insensitive. I've yet to learn what does and does not offend mortals."

"No, please don't be sorry," You said quickly. "It's refreshing to have someone speak to me without the burden of worrying they might offend. Everyone has been walking on eggshells around me since I was diagnosed, they've been coddling me, making me feel like I'm nothing more than a helpless child. I enjoy being free of that, and you're the only one who doesn't make me feel that way."

This intrigued Loki. "You are ill, yet the fact that your team takes special care of you due to your illness bothers you?"

"To no end," You groaned. "It's like ever since I got sick, everyone began to act differently around me. It seemed they no longer saw me as who I am, all they could see was a sick person. I slowly became my cancer to them, like my whole life is supposed to revolve around the fact that I'm sick. It's upsetting because I'm still me, I'm the same person I was before I became ill, but they don't see that."

It was beginning to occur to Loki that perhaps the two of you had more in common than he thought, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. "I see," He replied. "You are not the person they perceive."

"Exactly," You said, realising that Loki as well was not the person he had been perceived as, either. Yes, he had done terrible, horrible things, but here he was atoning for those crimes. Trying to change.

"So why don't you change that?" He asked. "Do not let them reduce you to your illness. Show them you are still the woman that they knew before. Show them that your illness does not define you."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "And how do you suppose I go about doing that?" You asked.

"Simply go about your life the way you normally would, were you not sick. Do what you wish, what makes you happy. Then they will remember that you are more than this illness."

This, right here, this is what makes me happy, You thought with a small smile, but you were not so bold as to admit it aloud. Hell, you had yet to even ask him about himself; as arrogant and confident as the front he put off was, you were afraid to scare him off.

"You're right," You said simply. "I suppose that it couldn't hurt to give that a try."

An hour passed in a kind of comfortable silence you had grown accustomed to with Loki when you felt your head begin to hurt. It wasn't that you didn't get headaches before, but the force in which the migraines you'd been getting for the last week tore apart your mind was almost too much to bear. You made a note to bring it up with Dr. Wilson, and set your book down.

"I feel a bit under the weather," You said to Loki. "I think I'll go lie down for a bit."

Loki cleared his throat awkwardly. "Would, ah, would you like me to walk you to your chambers?"

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face, and nodded with a blush. "That would be nice, thank you."

Thor was making his way down to the lounge when he passed behind you and his brother, and a happy smile played on his lips at the sight. He knew your intentions were pure, and only hoped that you continued to influence his brother for the better.

When the two of you reached your bedroom, you turned to look at the handsome God. "Well, this is me," You said. "I'll see you later?"

"I realise you never answered my question," Loki said suddenly, looking at you.

You blinked. "What question?"

"If you do not wish to answer, I won't press the issue, but why do you continue this misery?"

With no hesitation, you said, "Love. The team is my family, and I love them more than anything. The list of things I would not do for them is small, and fighting cancer is not on that list. I enjoy spending time with them, I don't want to leave them because I know it would crush them, so if enduring torturous treatments is what it takes to stay with them, then it's what I am going to do."

"You truly are quite the character," Loki mused, looking at you intently. "You are stronger than I have given you credit for, and for that I apologise."

You touched his arm hesitantly, caressing it softly with your thumb. "No apology necessary."

~

part 5