#OOC: I'm not dead!

[albatross-lancer]

My Loyal Wing came into training yesterday and told us "It is pride month, Young Petrels. You know what that means" and then left.

I... what?

Does she want us to pilot like... gay mechs?

What?

[gauloiseblue]

I'm Only Flesh and Blood

(König × Reader)

[Dead dove: do not eat | MDNI]

TW: rape, non-con, imprisonment, death, violence, overall dark theme

(I don't know why, but this song just resonates with the story, not because of the lyrics, but the way he sings it.)

You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You didn't realize there was a war on the horizon, before it all fell down upon the city.

Between the rumbles and the upstanding pillar, you coughed as the dust surrounded you.

You screamed for help, as the shattered walls trapped you in, leaving no space for you to move. You did it over and over again, until your throat scratched. Yet no one came to rescue, no one heard you scream.

When the night fell, you curled up your body, trying to find warmth in the harsh structures. There's no light that could reach your place, you only knew if it's daylight when the temperature rose up slightly, although it soon blurred as you lost track of time.

You were starving, your lips were cracked and split open. You thought you'd die like this, until you heard a heavy stomp of a boot.

There was a sound of a man shouting above you, and a heavy thud soon followed. You didn't have the energy to speak, as you watched a little light come through the rubbles. One by one, the wreckages were lifted, and you winced at the glaring light upon you.

There's a shout, and more shouts followed after in a language you didn't understand. You covered your eyes to see a soldier stretched his hand to you. Just like a fool, you reached up to him.

The event that unfolded between the rescue and the medical help was fuzzy in your memory. What you knew was, you woke up in a cold room, with men in uniform by your bed.

They asked you your name, and basic questions that you weakly answered. After they wrote it all down, you heard them mumble the word 'foreigner'.

"Where am I?" You asked them with a hoarse voice.

"Hospital." One of them said, before they both left the room.

Your brows furrowed, as you sensed something's off, but can't pinpoint what it was.

When the doctor declared you've made a full recovery, you were immediately brought to a different building. The man took you to an office, where a hunched figure in a mask sat at the desk.

He shooed your escort with a wave, and he left the room without a sound. Leaving you with the big man.

"What's your name?" He asked with a strange accent.

"(Name)." You responded.

"They said you're not from here." He stood up, and you witnessed the full glory of his height, "Visiting?"

You slowly nodded, nothing to add.

He shot you a sneer, as he walked closer to you, "You didn't know there was a conflict?"

"No," You lowered your head, "I thought it was safe."

You saw his polished boots as he stood in front of you, before he lifted up your chin so you'd face him.

"You're lucky you're inside the ruin, you know." He began to speak with malice slowly dripped out of his mouth, "Your kin were mostly dead or imprisoned. The women were raped, and the men were skinned alive. But you're still alive. You must be lucky."

The grip on your jaw became harder, and you whimpered, both from fear and the pain.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He let go of your face, and you immediately took a step back with your legs trembling. Your gaze was down, and you couldn't see the smile on his face. He walked past you, and you heard the door open, before a soldier took your hand and led you through the hallway.

In the other room, you met several girls with the same expression as yours—scared, confused, unsettled. You stood beside one of them, and watched as the soldier left.

The girl turned to you, asking your name.

"It's (Name)."

"Oh." She responded, "Where were you from?"

You told her the name of your hometown. "You?"

"I lived in the neighboring country." She smiled, "I'm Nina by the way, nice to meet you."

You returned the gesture.

"Do you know why we're here?" You asked.

"I'm not sure." She said as she rubbed her neck, "But I overheard the soldiers referring to us as flowers, I'm not sure what that means."

"Flowers?"

"Pretty flowers, in fact." She clarified, "One of them even said exotic ones. I just hoped it's not what I think it is."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the conversation was interrupted by the opening door.

There's a man striding from the door, and stopping on his track to see the people in the room. He scanned them one by one, before he turned to the soldier on his side.

"Which one is the Colonel's girl?"

The soldier looked at you, before leaning in to whisper.

"Hmm," He let out a displeased grunt, "Well, take her away then. There's no point in choosing her when she's off the list."

The soldier said something to him, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care, take her away."

He pressed his lips together before he nodded.

"Come." He said to you, and Nina immediately grabbed your hand.

"Don't go." Her eyes were wide as she told you, and you were alerted by the fear in her face. But you didn't have the time to process it, as the man ripped you away from her, dragging you out of the room.

"No—" You tried to protest, "Let me go."

He stayed silent, while his hand was planted on your arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"None of your business."

"It's my business to know."

"Shut up."

The two of you arrived outside, where he quickly called a car to the lobby. As the car parked, he opened the rear door and shoved you inside.

The door was already closed by the time you shouted at him.

The whole ride was silent, as you bit your nail, trying to make sense of the situation. You tried to look out the window, figuring out where the driver's taking you. Though you found nothing, not a single clue.

It took perhaps 15 minutes before the car parked in front of a house—a big house, in fact. At the front door, you met another man in military uniform. He didn't say much as he let you in, before locking the door behind.

It took a minute for you to process what happened, before you knocked on the door, asking why you're here. Again, you received no answer.

Deciding it's not worth the time, you began to roam around to find a way out.

It's a two-story house, with a big dining hall and equally big kitchen. It has a study room, and a meeting room right beside it, the two rooms were connected by a door. They looked like they've been used recently.

Upstairs, you found the bedrooms, as well as the bathrooms. There's a door leading to a balcony, but it was locked.

When you came back to the first floor, you tried your luck in the study room. It was full of papers, and you skimmed over it. But it's all written in a language you didn't understand, so you decided to move to the drawers. But as you bent down to reach the handle, you heard an unmistakable voice coming from the door.

"Don't touch that."

You lifted your head to see the same man you met in the office. He was leaning on the frame with his arms folded, watching you intently behind the mask.

"Curious, aren't you?"

You looked down to avoid his stare, "I'm sorry."

He took the time to examine your face, before he spoke, "I was planning to take you home with me, but it seems like my lieutenant sent you away without my permission."

"What do you want?" You asked him through gritted teeth, "You're not planning to send me back home, aren't you?"

He smirked, "Clever thing." He said, "Do you really wish to know that?"

You kept your glare at him as he explained.

"You see, you're still officially missing, and it's not our job to report every single person we found." He walked toward the bookshelves with his hands on his back and his chin up, "So if we found someone, it's our right to keep them."

He pulled a file from the shelves, and threw it onto the table.

"It's yours." He told you, "Go on and read it."

You looked at him with disdain, before you flipped the file open. There, you found all of your private information—the copy of your and your parents' IDs, your bank accounts, and detailed information about your background. Although it's written in German, you knew it from the written dates and a few familiar names.

"Do you understand now?" He spoke in a low tone, "You have no choice."

He left the room as you froze on the spot, unable to bring yourself together. The soldier by the front door took you to a bedroom and locked the door behind as ordered. Leaving you alone, at a loss.

You stared blankly at the window, and took notice how it's screwed shut. Even if you were to break the glass, it's already lined with railing. The same applied to the small window above the toilet, and you saw no possible way out in the bathroom too.

Maybe you could open it with something, something that resembles a screwdriver.

When the sun had set, you heard the lock turned, before the soldier entered with a tray and a jug of water. He set them down on the nightstand, before leaving without a word once again.

You looked at the food, and you had no appetite despite your stomach growl. You didn't touch the plate, but filled up the glass with water. That was it, that's your dinner for that day

At night, you couldn't sleep. You could hear the clock ticking, reminding you that you're still here. Pretty much alive.

20 minutes past midnight—you knew it from the toll of the grandfather clock outside—you caught the sound of the door opening, then closing. It came from the room beside you, the master bedroom.

That night, he spared you from the dreadful ordeal of sleeping together. But your luck was running thin after the third day of your stay.

You were laying on your bed with your thoughts, before the door of your bedroom opened. Your blood ran cold, as you heard a heavy step entering the room, and went towards your place.

The blanket rustled, as the man slipped inside. He settled into the bed, before pulling you into his chest.

Your heart beat hard against your chest, and you began to feel yourself sweating. You knew Fortuna frowned at you when he slid his hand under your neck, pressing his fingers on your pulse.

"You're still awake, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip, and slowed down your breathing. All was an useless attempt to calm you down.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you tonight."

You took a sharp breath as you caught the meaning of it. It made him chuckle, as he buried his face into your nape.

"But if you try something funny, I can't guarantee that to you."

Your body turned cold when the words left his mouth, to the point that you stayed still, petrified by the threat.

He did keep his promise, as he fell asleep right by your side. Perhaps if you're a bit braver, you could lift his hand and escape that night, but his words hung on your head, as if it's a guillotine that'd fall on you if you moved an inch.

You didn't sleep that night. Drowsiness only came to you after hearing the birds singing, signaling the first arrival of the sunray. And you were too tired to notice the way he stirred, as it went closer to his waking hour.

In the afternoon, you found yourself alone in bed, with the door locked, and the breakfast on the table.

You survived that night, but it didn't mean you'd make it on the other days.

Unfortunately, it came sooner than you prayed.

It was your fault, you were careless. You thought he wouldn't pay any mind to a missing cutlery, but he did.

At the dinner, he asked you to accompany him at the dining table, and you sat there, blissfully unaware of the impending torture.

As you chewed the tender steak, he announced his concern about the lack of butter knife in the dishwasher.

You stopped at your track, as your body tensed up. The meat stayed in your mouth, as your throat tightened up, closing your chance to swallow.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He asked with a cold glare, "Did you think I'm stupid?"

You kept your gaze to the plate, as the alarm blared in your head.

"Answer me!" He slammed his fist on the table, and you flinched away in fear. The reaction caused you to choke, forcing you to cough out the meat into the napkin.

"I'm sorry." You whimpered, while gripping your hand so it would stop shaking. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought the time had stopped for you. Until you heard the chair moved, and he stood by the table.

"Hands on the table." He retorted, and your body obeyed him without delay.

You jumped when he threw away your plate, sending it and the cutleries to the floor as it shattered upon the contact. You began to feel unsteady, as the panic was rising from your chest.

He stood behind you, and you trembled as you heard the sound of a zipper.

That was the day you found that he'd use sex as a punishment.

He made sure that it hurts, and left you bleeding, he'd render your legs useless by bruising your hip and insides, as he rammed his cock against your core. You screamed at him, begging him to stop, but he kept going until he ripped the orgasm out of you. By the time he finished, you're entirely spent, as you curled up on the floor.

In daze, you felt yourself being picked up, before laid down on the mattress. Leaving you wondering about it in the morning.

He was cruel, but he took you to the bedroom instead of leaving you. He was merciless, but he bothered to put a few medicines on your tray.

You didn't understand him, and you didn't like it one bit. You had a hunch that it couldn't be that simple—that he felt guilty, or he felt the need to take care of you.

To your disdain, he continued to do it for weeks. He helped you up, and gave you the medicines every morning. He kept it as a routine, until you could stand on your feet again.

While your body's recovered, the phantom pain still throbbed between your legs. Reminding you of the consequences for your misbehavior.

The memory of it kept you in line, as you unconsciously complied with his demands.

That was, until his demand became more outrageous.

It seemed that he was testing you—putting you through unnecessary trials of whether you would obey him or not. He'd put a choker on you. He'd ask you to get on your knees, and put your head on his lap. He'd tell you to sing, while his finger slipped inside your panties. He'd place you on his desk, and told you to spread your legs while he watched you pleasure yourself. He'd force you to watch an erotica without your pants on, so you'd leave a stain on your chair. He didn't ask for sex, but what he requested was way more improper, to the point that you felt dirtier after doing it.

And he seemed to be pleased by it, he delighted in your humiliation.

He also got off on your fear.

He'd play a cat and mouse game with you, and he'd scream threats that'd set you running. He knew you're scared of him, and he used it to his advantage. And when he caught you, you'd be forced on your knees as he shoved his cock into your mouth.

You're aware that there'd be an escalation from the moment he declared he'd take care of you, but you weren't prepared for the level of depravity he possessed.

The way he'd threaten you with sex, and soothe you with aftercare, it was too much.

One day, you sobbed as you begged him to end it all, with your tears running down your face. But he just sneered as he rubbed his member against your clit, forcing you to watch as your body trembled when you came for the fifth time.

There were times when it's all quiet, when he was wrapped up in his work. Those were the times where you could gather your thoughts, and planned for a possible escape.

You knew about his gun collections in the study room, you just needed the bullet. You couldn't really escape through the front door, except when it's night. So you began to devise a plan.

In the back of your mind, your rationality told you it's impossible; that even if you killed him, his affiliates would catch you so easily. You have nowhere to go. But you shoved it back into the water, as your feeling thrashed inside your chest. You need to go. You need to get away from him.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you found out the answer to your plan.

He hosted a house party with all of the soldiers. Some of them were recruits, and some of them looked like they're on the same level as him, judging by the presence of a pretty partner on their side.

You were given the role of a quiet escort, and you were allowed to leave his side only when he told you so. You wrapped your hand around his arm, as he greeted his guests.

The last friend of his came a little later, and your eyes were widened as you saw a familiar face. It was Nina.

She looked thinner compared to the last time you saw her. Her eyes were hollow, and her face was pale, with the exclusion of the red mark on her cheek.

You had the chance to talk to her when they all sat at the dining table. While the men were talking over brunch, you made your way to her and stood beside her.

She was quiet, and you doubted that she heard you, but it only lasted for a moment before she muttered out I'm fine.

"He slapped me this morning because I forgot to brew his coffee." Her lips trembled as she spoke, "But he told me to prepare everything for the party last night, of course I'd forget it."

Your brows furrowed with sympathy, as she continued her snivel, "I should've felt grateful that he only slapped me. The other girls—the other girls got it worse. But I—everything I did was wrong in his eyes. I don't—I'm so sick of it."

She quietly sobbed, and you took the initiative to pull her aside, guiding her to the restroom.

In there, you got the full length of her story.

The man who took him treated her as a housemaid, but never addressed her as such. He'd shout at her constantly, and he'd shove her face against the counter, forcing her to look at the little dust spot she missed. At night, he'd force himself upon her, with little to no preparation. And when she tried to escape one time, he brought home the head of her mother. The only family she had left.

You didn't know what to feel, but you could see that she got it worse than anyone.

You tried to soothe her, but you knew the wound was larger than you could stitch. It could never be healed.

As you both returned to the dining room, you found the table empty, as the men had already moved to his study room.

And your heart triumphed when you saw the key in his hand, as he opened the locked drawer to fetch something vital for your escape.

The bullets.

You watched him as he slipped them one by one into the old revolver. You burned the image of it in your head—the silver, big barreled revolver.

He then invited everyone in the room to walk with him, with the intent of showing a demonstration.

"This thing is a beauty, a wild horse," He remarked as he exhibited the firearm, "You need to learn to tame it before you ride it, or she'll kick you off the mount."

The men laughed, as some of them added an equally filthy joke. He chuckled before turning his body and stretching his arm to aim at the target.

There was an apple on the fence, on the far side of the garden. And the red fruit stood still, before it exploded as his gun went off with a bang.

The men cheered, applauding the magnificent show that you couldn't understand. Why did they praise it? Wasn't a gun supposed to do that?

You didn't have the time to ruminate, as you heard your friend whisper under her breath.

"He loves you."

The chatter from the men almost drowned her voice entirely, that you had to double-check your hearing.

"What?" You asked her.

She turned her face towards you, and a tear rolled down on her cheek. The sight of her stunned you, as she reached to touch your cheek.

"He never took his eyes off you." She muttered as she leaned closer to you. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought you felt her lips brush against yours, as she pulled you into a kiss. And you almost taste the wine in her tongue, until a sharp shrill flew past you with an incredible speed. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, with her body slumped against you.

You sat there, watching the open side of her head as it dripped dark fluid into your dress. It was warm, and slowly seeped through the fabric, spilling over your thighs.

You didn't know who was screaming.

You couldn't remember how long exactly before they removed her body from you. The party must be over since the men took you to your room, leaving you alone as you sank into your chair. Your hands couldn't stop shaking, as you saw them stained with red.

What happened to your dress? It was supposed to be white, wasn't it?

You stared at your knees, as the image of her head was still fresh in your mind. You felt your vision narrowed, as if you watched yourself through the third eye. You weren't there, you were still on the ground, with your friend's head on your lap.

The door was opened, but you didn't notice it. You didn't notice any presence, before a hand softly landed on your shoulder.

You jumped out from your chair, almost shouted for the second time, if not for his embrace.

It caught you off guard, and you began to sob against his chest. You couldn't help it, it was the only comfort you had, even though you knew that he had removed every other hand just so you'd choose him.

"Don't be sorry." He gently lulled you, "She brought it upon herself."

He removed the bloodied dress from you, before turning away to fetch a wet towel. You didn't have the energy to fight him, moreover to lift your finger. So you let him clean the blood off your face, and off your body.

You didn't resist when he put the fresh clothes on you, and he guided you to the bed, letting your head fall onto the pillow. He didn't do much and left the room without a word.

On the bed, you let your mind wander to your friend—her hollow stare, the gaping wound in her heart, you should've known it. There's a quiet anger in you, as well as a deep sense of loss. She used you as a means to end her pain, but she had no other choice. She had nothing left.

For days, you asked yourself if it's the only way for her, or if you could help her, reach out to her just a little further. But what came back was an echo, since she was already an empty shell long before you could help her.

You were angry at yourself, angry at him, angry at the man who took her. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you were powerless.

He was smart enough not to bother you, since you'd erupt at any given moment. But he'd snap at you if you crossed the line, and you'd end up with tears, as you bit your lips shut.

You don't know what to do with this anger, you still don't know the answer to this day.

While you have the plan ready, you haven't chosen the execution date. You need to be close enough to him to take the key, but you're still repulsed by him.

A week has passed by, and you find the courage to close the distance between you and him. You begin to join him for dinner, and keep him company in his study room.

That's when you start to see the crack.

There's a time gap where you can carry out the plan, at least the first plan. When he comes home, he usually leaves his things unattended at dinner time. You would have the freedom to roam, and you could sneak into his room for a short time. You once made sure which pocket that had the key in, and did a double-take a few days later. When you're certain of it, you move to the gun collections. You had memorized the revolver, so it didn't take long before you found it.

With that in mind, you're ready at any time.

You maintain a good facade in front of him, as you wait for the moment to strike.

The chance comes to you one night, when he decides to postpone the dinner. He has to talk with someone outside, and leaves his things on the dining table.

The window of time will be short, since the time it takes for him to finish will be uncertain. But you take it nevertheless.

You don't waste any time as you pull the key from his vest's pocket, and march toward the study room.

Adrenaline rushes through your body, and you're shaking as you take the revolver off the padded wall. You then turn your heel as you approach the desk, sliding the key with difficulties, before unlocking the drawer.

Alas, you run out of time.

You hear the front door close, and a heavy step echoes through the house. You hold your breath as you slide the cylinder release, and take a few bullets in your hand.

"Mäuse?" Your panic rises as you hear his call, with trembling hands, you try to push the bullets into the cylinder. Alas, one of them falls to the floor.

The noise must've alerted him, as the sound of his step turns into a heavy bolt.

You only manage to put two bullets in, before slapping the cylinder shut and aim at the door, right at the same time as his arrival.

He stops in his tracks when he sees you inside, with the gun in your hands.

"Don't come any closer!" You shouted a warning at him, though you couldn't hide the quiver in your voice.

He stands by the door, with his face unreadable, as it hides behind the mask. You pull the hammer, while your finger rests on the trigger. You're ready to shoot, he knows it from your stance.

He sighs, shaking his head in disapproval, "I gave you time, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't—don't move." You tried to warn him once again, "I'll shoot if you move."

"Can you even shoot me with those hands?" He leered at you, taunting you with his words, "You won't hit any target if you keep shaking."

He catches you off guard as he storms the room, forcing you to pull the trigger.

The bullet hit his shoulder, and he shouts in pain. The shot you released enrages him, as he pulls a sledgehammer from his side.

You don't have the time to aim as you shoot the second bullet, and it flies past him, leaving him unharmed.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as the hammer slams onto the desk, causing the wood to crack upon impact.

The revolver quickly dropped as you fled to the connecting door, escaping the place through the next room.

You run towards the front door, trying to push the handle, but it won't budge. You hear him coming, and jump to the side, narrowly escaping his hammer of rage as it punches through the door, sending the broken pieces everywhere.

"YOU COME BACK HERE!" His voice boomed through the house, and you could almost feel the floor shaking.

You dash to upstairs, and push your bedroom door open, before locking it just in time.

Still, it can't protect you from him.

You watch in horror as the door shakes and fills the room with the cracking sounds, before it flies open by force.

And there he is, standing at your door like a nightmare.

You can't do anything except running away from him, running to the corner where you'll certainly meet your demise.

And you lift your arms and brace for the impact. You can see the hammer coming to you from the corner of your eye, and you cry out when it strikes.

It's all silence, before a quiet sob falls from your mouth.

His hammer crashed on the wall, just an inch away from your head, showering you with dust and smashed fragments.

Your body slides down to the floor, as your legs give up. You continue to weep, while he lifts up the hammer, and tosses it to the ground.

"Are you done?" He retorted harshly, and you shrunk away from him.

He yanks your hand away, and throws you to the floor. You yelp when he sits on top of you, pushing your face down to the ground.

"Should I treat you badly so you'd learn to appreciate what I did for you?"

"You took my freedom away." You hissed through your tears, "You kept me in here so you could play me like a toy."

"But I took care of you, didn't I?" He growled, "I never asked you to clean the house, you didn't even have to cook for yourself. What more could you ask for?"

You flinch at his tone. You've seen him angry a few times, but never this angry.

"Do you want a toy of your own?" He asked, voice dripping with bitterness. Your eyes snap open, as the phantom pain throbs in your hip. "I can certainly give you one."

"No…" Your lips quivered as he slipped his fingers under your clothes, "No, no! Stop!"

You tried to kick him away, do anything to get away from this monstrous man.

"Get away from me!" You screamed at him, but he ignored you as he ripped your clothes off. "Please! I'm sorry—"

"It's too late for that, don't you think?" He laughed when you tried to crawl away, while he undid his belt.

You cry out when you feel the head of his cock poking against your core, before he slowly pushes it inside.

It was excruciating, as he stretched you open with a force. He groans as your walls clamp around his member, as if repelling him from entering.

He snakes his arm around your shoulders, as he pulls you close until his chest is flush against your back. A bitter tang of iron hits your nose, reminding you of your own mistake. He hisses when you grab him on the place near the wound.

"Don't think you can escape me, (Name)." He snaps his hip against you, and you throw your head back, eyes tightly shut. "Not even in your death."

You scream when he buries himself completely, stuffing himself to the hilt, until you feel yourself full.

The pain comes back to you, as you feel your core burning. He makes it worse by feeding it frictions, as he begins to pump himself in and out. He tosses his mask aside, before he marks you with his bites. He sinks his teeth onto your neck and shoulder, before he lifts you by your chin, and crashes his lips against yours.

It was bitter, full of teeth. His kiss tasted like rage, and the jealousy he held since your friend stole it from him.

You cough from the lack of air, and fall down on the floor. The mixed saliva in your mouth drips down to your chin, and he runs his thumb to wipe it off.

He bends down to kiss you once again, and you whimper when you find yourself growing wetter against your will. The resistance from your walls becomes lesser, and he can easily slide his member in.

"You know, Mäuse," He mused as his hips moved like a piston, "I'm only flesh and blood, but I can be a good father."

He keeps his arm around your body, as you struggle against him.

"I can buy you a big house, taking care of our little ones." He covers your mouth when you begin to voice your protests, "As long as you're with me."

Your hand starts to flail around, trying to hit his wound, but it's out of your reach.

"I'll make you my wife, and we'll live together as a couple." He said with a smile, but through your eyes, it was a madman's grin. "You just have to be good, and I'll treat you as such."

His cock brushes against the spot that made your moan, and he keeps hitting it until your back arches, as you turn limp in his arms.

He soon follows after you, as his cum spills into your womb, filling you up to the brim. You gasp when his arms tighten around you, as his cock twitches inside your core. A sense of dread hits you as you feel his cock doesn't get any softer.

"I think you'll make a great mother." You heard him murmur, before he pressed his lips against your temple.

[dirtytransmasc]

concept, cause the dynamics at play would be super interesting:

when Tuk and Neytiri are sucked into the hold of the Seadragon, what if Spider, unwilling to watch another one of this baby siblings, nor his siblings mother (despite everything cause he's a good kid), die without doing anything, jumps in after them?

they're now stuck in a flooding ship, spider knows his way around to a decent extent, they're all tired, they're all scared, they're all hurting. they have to depend on each other for survival.

Neytiri has to not only trust Spider, but has to follow his lead, has to trust him to guide her around a demon ship, has to untrust not only her own life, but the life of her youngest child to this boy.

Maybe they're separated, they have to find one another (my personal favorite scenario is that Tuk and Spider are together and he has to try and find her/guide Neytiri to him)

Spider taking Neytiri and Tuk's arms so they aren't separated by stray currents and raging waters (a parallel to "Sully's stick together"). Spider talking them through the breath holds he learned as a kid in case his mask malfunctioned before bringing them through the depths of the submerged ship (parallel to Jake and Lo'ak)

anyway. I just can't stop thinking about it. think about it.

Neytiri is faced with the fact that Spider jumped in after her and Tuk. he came for them, he put himself in danger to save them, to save her daughter. even after what she did to him. even after she held a knife to him, after she cut him, after she intended to kill him even after Kiri was released. he still jumped to her aid, even if he could have stayed with Kiri above deck where he was safe, he could have just aided Tuk and left her behind, but he didn't.

and there's so many ways to play with it and the aftermath. like.

Spider dragging both Tuk and Neytiri up the surface, trying his best to keep the trio afloat (namely Neytiri who was much less adjusted to the water and is exhausted by the night they've had) as they hope and pray to be reunited with the rest of their family.

maybe the stress gets to them and Spider just starts apologizing. I should have fought them harder. I shouldn't have let Lo'ak and Neteyam try and leave with me, I would have been fine. I should have seen it coming, should have taken it myself. it should have been me. my baby brother shouldn't be dead.

maybe he becomes partly delirious as he too gives into exhaustion, the big brother in him being the only part of him left coherent, so he takes Tuk close, whispering prrnen tsmuke [baby sister] over and over into her braids, assuring himself that she's safe and unharmed. he keeps praying to the Great Mother for his siblings to return to him unharmed. maybe he keeps asking where they are, if they're safe as his awareness fades and his memory weakens. all of his siblings. asking if Neteyam is ok, only to remember he's gone the second the words leave his tongue.

Jake and Lo'ak finding them when they come up with Payakan, both worse for wear, exhausted, clinging to one another, the only thing keeping their heads above water being spiders life vest, Tuk cradled between them. what a sight.

Neytiri watching as Spider looks over each of his siblings, taking them close, holding onto them as if they will be ripped away from him. the realization that he would die before he let that happen again hitting her like a ton of bricks the second she sees the look in his eyes.

a peace being made between the two in the wake of this event. spider silently claiming the role of big brother (he always was, but he had to pretend he wasn't. with Neteyam gone, he can't pretend he's not anymore), Neytiri silently agreeing.

idk man. it would be interesting.

[lunaetis]

plotting call ! give this post a like, and i'll eventually be dropping by your DM to discuss / plot something out with our muses and hopefully get some dynamics & interactions going ! this is open to old & new mutuals ! please have at least one muse in mind before liking this post so we have something to start off with. i also have a shipping call that you could interact with if you'd like some romantic dynamics between our muses !

my discord is under the cut for easier communication bc tumblr IM sucks. just let me know who you are if you added me ! *please note that i can be slow in DMs so i humbly request for you to be patient with me.

kuroihina

[moon-blanket]

A silly little Blurb about early Freelancer and Gavin :)

[Read on ao3]

Gavin was not made for mornings like this.

He was made for the darkness of night. Neon lights of dingy bars, hidden corners of alleyways, and messy, heated nights in pitch black bedrooms. Quick fixes to scratch the itches of mortals, easy supplements of emotion he needs to survive another night– always a means to an end.

Sure, the awkward morning-after was a custom he was more than familiar with. Sneaking out before his bedmate of the hour ever woke up had become a well-practiced art by now. Sometimes he even had the uncomfortable pleasure of seeing them off for the day, parting ways as he begins looking for another meal. Another way to get by.

It's never been anything like today.

The Freelancer sleeps peacefully at his side. It's their first true day off in what has felt like the eons they've had this routine together. With no work or classes to scramble off to today, they've given themself the gift of sleeping in.

It's a shame that he couldn't partake as well, but in this moment he can't find the means to care.

They've twisted themselves into a position that he thinks cannot possibly be comfortable. Half on their stomach, half on their back– facing him with the most serene expression he's ever had the pleasure of witnessing grace their face.

They're beautiful like this.

His eyes follow the outline of the parts of their body left exposed by the covers they've neglected in their sleep. The rise and fall of their back as they slowly breathe, the dark spots that bloom across their skin from their late night tryst, their hair wildly splayed against their pillow and draping delicately in their face.

Sunlight streams through the window, the morning light hits their frame so perfectly, the curves and angles of their body practically glowing in the warmth of the sun. He thinks he finally understands the meaning of true worship.

Gavin does not know much of human religion, not enough to know who to properly thank– but he will gladly give the proper kudos to every god, every sovereign in the stars, that guided him to his Freelancer.

His Freelancer...

There's a pang in his chest he's unfamiliar with when the thought passes through his mind. It's a little frightening.

He doesn't know how long he stays there and admires them. Eventually he watches as their body awakens, their eyes open to reveal the prettiest color he's ever seen.

When they gain their bearings, recognizing his form as he lays beside them, they flash a sleepy smile as another pang courses through his non-existent heart. One that he begins to welcome as they move to cuddle into him.

He's starting to believe that he could learn to love mornings as long as His Freelancer is beside him.

Thank you for reading. :3

[dramatic-dove]

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY BLOG!!!

[aquarika]

Saw some funny image in pinterest so I got inspired to make these

[helphowdoiusethis]

hi!! may i offer you a hug and a forehead kiss in these trying times

You may

🫂

[withsunlight]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.  / #florrentine. an independent & selective post - apocalyptic original character ( with other verses available ), emilia florrent --- originally established in 2018 & revived in 2024.

[ask-william-bill-overbeck]

/// back with them again

[mamawasatesttube]

that last post reminds me of how, similarly, it drives me up the wall whenever fandom (esp with regards to timkon) portrays kon as completely and utterly spineless and intimidated when it comes to bruce. (i mean, i'm not surprised, bc this comes from the same place as the content where tim is a fainting victorian maiden who needs to be protected by her strong stoic owner i mean father, which is definitely not a homophobic trope rooted in misogyny at all, but. that's a complaint for a different post.)

like, bruce's relationship with kon has admittedly been done differently by different writers and all, but at no point has kon ever backed down to him. during hypertime arc, bruce is cordial and even warm, in his way, as they send kon off:

later, towards the end of superboy '94, when kon and cass get into trouble and nearly get themselves killed, kon sees bruce being harsh on cass about it and inserts himself to demand he get half the blame and half the punishment, because it wasn't all on her. (i personally think the way bruce talks here is extremely cringefail and shitty, like... let's not make batman parrot racist rhetoric thanks, but. i blame that on writers moreso than the character.)

like, sure, he's a little hesitant (the "s-sir..." gets me.) but not enough to hold back an ounce in telling batman he's being unfair and an ass. he's not a shrinking violet just bc batman is ooo scary.

also coming to mind are:

a) the panels from batgirl (2000) where bruce is being an extremely overprotective and controlling figure over the idea of cass and kon being friends and clark tells him off for this (it's not directly kon interacting with bruce, but feels... relevant, lol, to the topic of bruce threatening kon and trying to scare him off in that possessive, steeped-in-misogyny way), as well as

b) the ones from tt03 where kon goes to gotham looking for tim, runs into bruce and steph-as-robin, and flips out like WHERE is tim, and bruce is just like. use your superhearing and figure it out. (note that he doesn't try to kick him out of gotham just for being there, either.)

i didn't include those last two bc i don't have them saved and frankly this post is long enough as is, but. you get the idea. kon isn't scared of batman. batman even likes him sometimes. and batman trying to intimidate him on purpose is something clark gets mad about.

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

BNHA 428: This chapter made me annoyed and yet it was still somewhat better than I expected?

Himichako. I like it, it's a good ship- not one I'm crazy about, but the vision is compelling. I mean, the loved girl on hard times who admires honesty but represses her feelings + hunger motifs, and the formerly wealthy and rejected girl who's honest to herself but masks her sadness from others + drinking motifs? Being so similar at their core from selfishness, bleeding love, admiration and imitation? Yeah, why not, sign me up, it looks fun.

(plus Ochako needed a subplot that would shy away from Izuku because oh boi her writing is messy-)

Then the ending annoucement happened and I immediately went "oh no" when I remembered that tidbit. But. Yesterday, I remembered this page from 424, which in hindsight makes sense:

Shoto moving forward and choosing to not dwell on his past anymore, because he wants to know the man he wants to become alongside his family of choice.

Spinner feeling so much grief for Tomura inside his room, his extra Quirks add up to it. Further gut points as it was all because of AFO, but the wrong person is getting the blame.

Ochako looking lost and dissatisfied, not really saying anything about Himiko's status; then her hidden injury which left a scar that'll never go away, nothing can change that.

And then, well, a sky with a chance to fight for a "bright future". Which is the most ambiguous you can get for anything, really, sequel or not.

(sidenote: is it me or the panel where she's touching her stab wound looks like a tangent line?)

Okay so, I went into the chapter, with Pikahlua's translations. It was A Chapter alright-

If it wasn't the antepenultimate chapter, the "filler" would've been welcomed. But I guess it means we should focus on the smaller details, I guess? Like that 1st year saying Izuku filled him with courage and Izuku immediately thinking of Spinner's pain? Yeah he hates himself and that people call him a hero, when he considers himself a murderer, and will never forgive himself for failing Tenko, therapy for him and everyone in Class 2-A please- yeah it was a fun detail. Also the throb of hiding your pain of "defeating" someone you wanted to save but in the end everything is miserable but everyone else is happy and you don't wanna be a bother. Fun.

Also I wasn't the one to point the out, but looking at the uniform (U.A. uniform blazer for boys + the tie with a dot for girls), the student who's a Izuku fan is probably trans/gnc, which I appreciate a lot :D (Damn Izuku attracts so many queer people I wonder if that's a sign- /hj)

Also, I guess Class A stating "[Bakugou], Midoriya and Todoroki were at the heart of it all" then focusing on Ochako is good foreshadowing on how her own battle wasn't fully recorded? It's like saying in the end her fight didn't matter, but the other ones went "well", so she's trying (and slowly failing) to keep her sadness at bay because, well, everyone's happy, so who cares? Another "throb".

I thought since the Todoroki family issues are out in the open, didn't they record the whole thing? Then I re-read it, they only saw the family stopping Touya from exploding. So they didn't see Shoto trying to talk to Touya, which means none of the LoV were humanized. Fuck's sake.

After that, I get focusing on the first years and civilians wanting to help and all, but it feels like a repeat of everything seconds before Jakku, so I assume it's a way for them to pretend things are normal? But not-quite-quoting Katsuki (<- which I will point out for my sake is very much alive and well and- oh boi LFtR will kill me) and Edgeshot here because it made me smile:

"Will you...go back to the way you were?" "I plan to attain something greater than what I was originally!"

So, yeah I suppose he'll be fine eventually. (Best J. really loving Edgeshot even as a worm, honestly, goals)

Again with Izuku remembering saying "[He'll] bring it all back" and apologizing for "not keeping his promise" and others telling him to not blame himself and they can reconstruct as many times as it takes. Again, gave me a little smile, but not for long-

Finally, Ochako pretending things are fine. Hello there, Sports Festival/Provisional License!Ochako I missed you- /hj (I miss the dorms era in general, actually.)

So... *sigh* Full disclosure: I wasn't looking forward to Himichako as we were getting 5/10 pages for the "conclusions" in the previous two, I thought Ochako would be off about Himiko being depressed about the League. But since she's MIA, red flags are now red herrings, and it's better than the dead outcome. If Ochako got another person dying in her arms that'd just break her character.

A blood transfusion takes hours, she couldn't been doing that for more than 20min, if it was gonna kill anyone it'd be Ochako. Either Himiko ran away or got arrested, and Ochako feels guilty because she doesn't know if she's dead or not. Not great, but until I see a corpse she ain't dead. Besides: Touya, Shoto, Edgeshot, Katsuki, Toshinori, Ochako herself, all physically hurt unlike her, and yet they live.

And then we have Izuku showing up. I'm upset he used OFA embers for this, but eh, it's Izuku, do I expect anything else?

Rolling with the assumption Himiko died (like our POV characters), Izuku would need to face his own failure in Ochako- Failed to save two people like she failed Himiko, but it'd be so. Empty. Ochako was true to herself, while Izuku gave nothing but "I want to save that crying kid" while fighting Tenko. The most they can do is bond with "failing" and "this isn't what we fought for". This is not really a moment where he can be a shoulder to cry on, it'd come across as hypocritical /neg.

The only way it could make sense it without being shallow on Mr. Control = Repress Your Heart's part (as he didn't open up to the two people who died in "his watch") is Ochako telling how Himiko loved yet seeing him repressing this part of his is idiotic? She likes people who are true to themselves, which Izuku hasn't been for ages, leading to him realizing something. I thought it'd be through a DvsK3 but. I'll take it, two chapters left, I just want his thoughts (and for them to talk but that can happen in the last one).

They only recorded Shoto stopping Touya from being a suicidal bomb, Ochako floating a bunch of Twice!Himiko clones and Izuku entering a coccon, popping out armless, getting them back, punching Tenko to death. The "I want to save [them]" wasn't registered, it makes sense they're (well, Izuku and Ochako mostly) weirded out about this, dissatisfied like most readers are (sidenote: why when it comes to the trio either Ochako or Shoto get sidelined? So much could tie their stories together and yet-)

It's still a tough pill. I'm not a villain stan, just wondering if those fights were for nothing- the humanity of Tenko and Himiko? Can't be proved for anyone else, since they weren't recorded.

And I don't know if anyone saw the same thing, but those "city lights" look like the bubbles from Ochako's awakening, maybe we'll get a Blackwhip or Entrance Exam callback? Maybe it's what the tagline meant by "hidden feelings", since she unlocked it to reach Himiko and doesn't think anyone would understand why. I hope it's just a nice visual though.

If Himiko is truly dead though... You know, I headcannoned the characters were telling the story through confessionals/recordings to register it to the world so they'd learn from that, but I guess the interviews Aizawa was talking about seemed more likely, which. Well it's something, but I thought it'd be everyone instead of just Class A. Idk. The idea the LoV didn't change anything, or that they did change things but don't get to see it, is bitter.

So uh. Yeah, those are my thoughts. I'm not sure how to feel about it, on one hand I want Izuku to finally open up but on the other, it feels like it'll be at Himiko and Ochako's expense by involving him in something that's theirs now. And there's a chance we'll get the "nothing is fine" from Ochako- god I'm fearing the discourse next week already :DDDD

... Man, and this is a bad timing to be in the fandom, considering the LFtR episode airs this Saturday (which will be yesterday by the time this post goes up and I'll be crying about that instead-), so uh. Yeah, this fandom will be emotionally devastated for two reasons XD

Okay, so I'll try ending this on a more optimistic note: I think Himiko is alive, and Ochako just doesn't know it, which is why we're getting 0 confirmation and a breakdown. Izuku's confrontation with her can make or break this plot, but as long as 1) we acknowledge the emotional, different stakes between the Himichako fight and Tenko vs. Izuku one and 2) it doesn't end in a confession (and let's be real, it won't), then we're probably good (sadly, if you disregard the LoV status). I still think it's an ass pull for the camera battery to go out though.

But no matter how this goes: C'mon, two chapters left now, this one was wasted on the first years, smh, let this sequel hopium be a reality I wanna know who's the 425 guy, not the poor first year who's gonna replace Shindo Yo in fanfics- /hj

[aithusarosekiller]

This is on my tiktok but I wanted to post it here too bc it's really been bugging me

The caption essentially said that if I see a characterisation I don't like (I used the example of big buff alpha remus) I just scroll because clearly the content was made for someone else and I'm not the target audience

[ravkanfoxprince]

Back to boring correspondences, I've avoided them long enough.

[nocityfolk]

— IT'S JESSE COLT ! * : album aesthetics.

tenderfoot [2019], cahoots [2022], & DOGGONE [2024].

[celestialdetected]

hi i'm currently hyperfixated on dead boy detectives. so the running commentary in my head as I reply to things here is just *gay little ghost boys* *gay little ghost boys* *gay little ghost boys*