#This is going to be way less coherent in the future

[spacedragonstar]

Worm liveblog Part 1

So, first time doing a liveblog. Let's see how this goes. Don't expect anything particularly analytical from me.

I decided that yes, I am going to read Worm, the web novel. For the sake of transparency, I have been spoiled on some aspects of the world building, like how people get superpowers, parts of the ending and something about world destroying kajiu? I'm somewhat unclear on that last point.

I can not make any guarantees that I will actually finish this or that you will get regular updates.

I decided to do this liveblog when I got to Chapter 6, so the first part of this is just my impressions so far.

Warning: Mention of bullying

Ark 1.1-5

Okay, I know Worm has like a bazillion trigger warnings, but has anyone considered making it one more and adding 'Uncomfortably accurate description of bullying '? Because what Taylor is going through here, the loneliness, the social ostracizing, the way nobody helps you? That is for me a way better description of bullying than any shoving in hallways or dunks in the toilet is. It is also pretty much how I felt at some points in school. Except that I can't control bugs and if I could I would use that to 1) get rich 2) make every etymologist love me and 3) possible send bugs stealthily into the hair of bullys so I can get away. This entirely depnds on when we are talking about.

That being said, Taylor's power is pretty cool and I think it could have a lot of potential if properly utilized. I like how she uses the spiders to create her costume and all the logistics about it, like that the spiders are territorial. She is also pretty clever about the fight with Lung and knows to retreat.

Speaking of, the fight with Lung was definitely something and I can see why the heroes would struggle with him. You have to essentially take him by surprise to have a chance and you have to end it really fast. Also, the fire is a really bad match up for Taylor.

Honestly, I think it's probably a good idea that the gang mistook Taylor for a Villain. There is no way she can take them out right now.

[relicsongmel]

Something I've always found fascinating about Raymond Shields is that despite seemingly having altruistic reasons for being a defense attorney, his reasons for trying to convince Miles to be one are anything but.

It seems understandable enough on the surface. After Ray comes around and agrees to work with Miles in The Imprisoned Turnabout, he sees remnants of Gregory shining through him despite von Karma's influence. Whether or not he recognizes that Miles' decision to become a prosecutor wasn't just born from that alone—that it was in tandem with wanting to distance himself from anything that reminded him of his father to alleviate the burden on his heart—is up for debate, but regardless: he acknowledges Miles as Gregory's son through and through and wants to capitalize on his dedication for pursuing justice in a way that he knows would make his father proud. He wants to let Miles in on the life he was robbed of at 9 years old—the life he once dreamed of living, where he follows in the footsteps of his father by giving everything he has to save people, by fighting like hell for the vulnerable and the condemned.

That said, as much as Ray dresses up his proposition by making it out to be as if he's looking out for Miles' best interests (and the best interests of society, even)...his motives for trying to get Miles to switch sides are almost entirely selfish. Ray's efforts (and most of his actions in general, really) are ultimately a product of his desperate attempt to cling on to anything related to Gregory out of an inability to move on from his death. Wearing his hat and coat, leaving the name of his office unchanged...and now, requesting that his son literally change jobs just because he can't bear the weight of his own loneliness anymore. Because he can't bear to think that the damage done by DL-6 is irreversible and Miles has moved on while he has stagnated for the past 17 years. Because he has an idealized vision of what he thinks Gregory would want and fails to realize that his son's occupation wouldn't matter to him as long as it brings him happiness and fulfillment. In his mind, letting Miles go means accepting the circumstances that brought him where he is and allowing both of them to move on. And that terrifies him.

It's even more deceitful when you realize that Ray's pitch comes at a very opportune time for Miles given his circumstances at that point: that is, he's under threat of investigation for prosecutorial misconduct and at risk of being stripped of his badge. Ray might fake incompetence, but he's not stupid—and he takes full advantage of Justine's warnings to try to sway Miles when he's in a more vulnerable position in terms of his job. Which is...pretty fucked up, to put it lightly. Despite having a better idea of where he came from compared to most people, through this Ray shows a lack of understanding of who Miles truly is and a lack of respect for what he's come to value, even if his path toward obtaining those values had some bumps along the road. But he's so blinded by his grief that he doesn't even stop to consider how much he's really asking of him, or what Miles is really searching for.

Ray was moved by Gregory. He values saving people. Defending the weak is an undeniably noble endeavor. But to ask that of someone else without consideration for their best interests is decidedly less so.

For all his occupation requires a certain selflessness, Raymond Shields is far more selfish than he lets on. And I for one find that contradiction fascinating to unpack.

[starkenobi]

Truth or Dare | Natasha Romanoff x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; +18 romance; a bit of explicit sexual content; a bit of fluff too.

Summary: Y/N is determined to show how much she likes Natasha. There is nothing better than a surprise, right?

After a hectic week filled with missions and reports, Natasha just wanted to relax that Saturday night surrounded by the people she loved the most. However, her plans went down the drain when Clint suggested truth or dare to liven up the night before poker.

“Truth or dare? What are we, kids?”

Her comment was ignored, of course. Everyone loved to tease each other, and what better way to relax after so many horrors than by acting like they were 14?

After a few rounds and a lot of drinking, Natasha had her peace ruined once and for all when she made the mistake of choosing dare. She should have noticed Tony's smirk, her friend's mischievous intentions clear on his face. Others might think that saying "peace ruined" was a bit of an exaggeration, but she was stuck in the cleaning closet with the person she most wanted to avoid.

Or rather, Natasha was head over heels for the one person, unfortunately, who knew how to push all the buttons to get on her nerves. So, when you were both pushed and locked in the cleaning closet, it was obvious that she wouldn't be able to resist your charms. Okay, who was she kidding? As soon as the door was locked, the silence lasted for a brief moment before the two stuck to each other like magnets.

"Hmm, it's been two minutes," you murmured breathlessly, nibbling on the spy's jaw after breaking the kiss. Kissing her neck, your hands slided from her hips to her thighs before continuing your thought. "Can I make you cum in less than 5 minutes?"

Natasha sighed, one of her hands going to your hair to hold it tightly and stop you from kneeling on the floor. Despite her body screaming for your attention, Natasha pushed the hands that were going up her thighs and inside her dress away with light pats.

"Hey, behave yourself!"Natasha grumbled, pulling hard on your hair when you tried to kneel once more. "Please, troublemaker."

Sighing heavily, you rested your head on the redhead's shoulder and your hands returned to her hips. "I know things got weird after that mission we went on together, but I really like you and I don't consider this just some dirty talk between friends."

Natasha wasn't prepared for a speech, even a brief one, from you. Frozen with one hand still in your hair and the other on your back, Natasha had lost all the words to retort at that moment. Swallowing hard, she tried to find a coherent thought, but was interrupted when she felt one of your hands sliding down the inside of her thigh again.

"Y/N..."

"I know," you murmured affectionately, as you placed a few kisses on Natasha's neck again and brought your hand down her dress, caressing Natasha's skin slowly, hoping that the other wouldn't say no again. "Just let me kiss you, okay?"

Without saying anything, Natasha pulled your face up, then kissed you with all the feelings and emotions she had held back. She knew that the best thing to do was to say no, but she also didn't want to deny you anymore. Maybe that wasn't the time for a deeper conversation, with alcohol in the system and friends in the other room.

Maybe the best thing was to press her body against yours, to become even more intoxicated by you, by the way she could tease and leave you breathless with a simple touch of her fingers. To lose herself in the pleasure that was being given to her, allowing you to touch her as if it were second nature, and reciprocating with sighs and soft moans that served only as encouragement.

“Hey, time’s up! You’ve been there for 30 minutes!” Tony’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, a small thud on the wood making both of you jump in surprise. “If you’re having sex, I’m banning you from all future missions!”

With the threat, you were the one who took the initiative to move away, your nimble hands lovingly adjusting Natasha’s clothes and hair. Natasha felt her face blush when she noticed that you weren’ at all discreet, slowly licked your fingers. Sharing a knowing smile, you placed one last kiss on Natasha’s lips before pulling her towards the door.

“Tony, you talk just like my father!” you retorted, opening the door, but receiving no response.

Natasha frowned, not that she would like to hear anyone complain until their ears fell off, but she found the silence strange. Intrigued, she let you pull her out of the bathroom by your intertwined hands, but as soon as you were in the hallway, she stretched on her tiptoes to look over you in an attempt to see if anyone was there.

"Natasha, don't ruin the surprise!" You grumbled, after realizing what the other was doing, letting go of her hand so you could attack her in a bear hug. Natasha let out an indignant little scream, trying to free herself, but when she understood the sentence better, she froze in the other's arms.

"Surprise?"

Without answering out loud, you turned on your heel and, as soon as you were facing the living room, released Natasha from the hug so she could look around. The room was tidy, with no signs that a friends gathering was taking place; some heart-shaped balloons floated tied to various surfaces, while on the coffee table there was a tiny, bright pink cake with a heart in the middle along with a red rose. Natasha let out a little laugh as she glanced sideways at you, who looked apprehensive, but she couldn't hold it in for long and soon threw herself into your arms.

Kissing your face, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders to keep her balance. "What do you want with all this?"

"I want to be your girlfriend.", you answered quickly, a little flustered, your arms tightening around Natasha’s waist. Laughing awkwardly, you rolled your eyes when Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Okay. Do you want to date me?"

Natasha let out a little noise of triumph, placing a long kiss on your lips before humming "Of course I do!"

The two of you exchanged a few more kisses before sitting on the floor next to the coffee table so you could share the cake. It was slightly soggy and the whipped cream was too sweet, but Natasha ate it without stopping smiling and, because of that, you couldn't stop smiling too.

You’d talk more during the next day, take some time to tie up loose ends and get into a more relaxed rhythm. But at that moment? You were happy to be together. Well, until the team returned to the living room, Steve and Sam carried more drinks in their arms, while Clint and Tony screamed at the top of their lungs to some random song, everyone celebrating the new couple.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[shanastoryteller]

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[evilminji]

Oh... oh no it's all coming together ( o.o)

Ya'll remember my Danny haunts Space Games post?

That but MORE SO. Harder. Like... ZONE GAME DEVELOPER PASSION PROJECT harder. Because? Special Interest chemicals go brrrrr~☆

And you KNOW... you absolutely FUCKING KNOW! That Danny was minding his business, going about his life, hyped as FUCK for the new Space Game 5 (a niche game but so what? It has REALISTIC physics! It's set on THE MOON!).

Has NOT stopped rambling on about it.

Been driving everyone insane, because it won't be out for MONTHS.

When~?

Youngblood, probably, goes "So what? That sound BORING. There barely anything to DO in that! Not like one of OUR Super Cool ZONE Video Games™. OURS are way better! And we gave LOADS more options then THAT! Now can we get back to-"

Freeze frame, record scratch.

Wait. WHAT!?

Danny is violently answers out of that eternal child faster then you can say "Dude! Chill!" Got them manic Obsession Eyes. Oops. Youngblood forgot Danny is Space Obsessed. But also PROTECTION Obsessed. Meaning he can't LEAVE where he is protecting.

You know.... FOR SPACE.

He needs a work around to feed his Obsession. Video games do it. Since he can go INTO them, but leave at a moments notice, if trouble happens. It's like being both IN SPACE but also AT HIS POST! Double Obsession Feeding! Happy chemicals! Mmmmm, content ecto-goo~

But now? NOW?! He's learning there is BETTER Space?!

WHERE IS THE BETTER SPACE?! *kicks open the portal*

It? Is a terrifying time for everybody. Thanks A LOT, Youngblood. It takes like... five Amazons and Pandora herself tackling the little menace, to get him still long enough to get a semi-coherent answer out of him. Stop him trying to shake down random ghosts for answers they can't GIVE.

Youngblood is grounded.

DANNY has an Obsession-crash headache, is really embarrassed, but honestly no one blames him. No one acts their best when they're Obsession gets suddenly triggered that hard. It was a poor man offered El Dorado, a scholar all the secrets in the world. He got swept up in it.

That SAID, yes, there IS a video game shop near here. There are, of course, countless such shops. It's the Zone. There are countless EVERYTHING. It's the nature of the Zone. Just don't harrass any of the developers and all will be well, Phantom. They're not afraid to put YOU in time out as well.

Deal! ( /☆.☆)/ *grabby hands*

There? Are so, SO many games. For systems Danny's never even HEARD off. Alien ones, new ones, long dead ones. Zone exclusives. It's less a shop and more a sprawling maze.

His grin is FERAL.

Space. Gaaaaaaames!!!

The more realistic the BETTER. Give him that living vicariously like an Astronaut DREAM. But fantasy maybe! Or in the future! Or deep space! Alien mayhaps! There are a few. The blended Obsessions that are kinda like his. Space and video-games instead of Space and Protection.

And? Oh~

Oh they are so SO realistic.

Impossible to play on any Earth computer, too. Not a single chance. Wouldn't even TRY and run. But! He is a Fenton! And he WILL have his Space Games! If his parents can make a portal in their basement? HE can make a Bank of Ectoplasmic Supercomputers in his spare room! Or Bedroom! Depends on renting prices!

He GUTS every landfill for MILES for usable parts.

"Liberates" parts from Rogues, left and right. Fuck their evil plans! He has computers to build! The Justice League? Baffled. Alarmed. Nooooot his problem!!!

He completes his works and? Oh~ the smile is both terrifying and fangy.

Spaaaaaaaace~☆

He starts College. On line, of course, he refuses to leave Amity. And Online can be done at his pace, at his hours. So? For once? He's actually doing WELL. Even BETTER? It helps him remember to leave them games every once and a while. Eat something. Be human.

But... well... it's like a slow flip of his Obsession starving. Now that he has all the Space he could ever want? He... suddenly finds Amity... peaceful? Which is GOOD! It's... it's GOOD.

.........just not for him.

He can almost physically FEEL him mind unclenching it's death grip on the town. Finger by finger. Hands releasing, letting go, as they... reach for something. As he starts taking NOTE of crime rates in major cities. Alien attacks and Rogues, Heros spread too thin, people getting HURT.

In need of PROTECTION.

He... he doesn't WANT to be that fickle. He LOVES Amity! It's his HOME. He wasn't protecting it just because he craved something to protect! In the end, he drags it out longer then he probably should, argues with himself, ignores the problem. Is STUBBORN.

It's only after Dani starts talking about coming back to Amity to stay with him, do the college thing like he did, that he realizes...

Amity's not his Haunt anymore.

They talk. She's excited to help him find a nice shit hole of a city to protect, but also worried because he looks really gaunt. He may LOVE Space... but...

It's the GHOST in him that loves Space. The Astronaut. The Kid who refused to die, who ate a PORTAL TO THE EVERYTHING and crawled out still exsistant, who told Death not only "not today" but "not EVER"? That kid had something to protect. Was and is and always will BE, protection. Himself, his friends, his family or the town. Doesn't matter WHAT it is.

He refused to go, so he could protect them.

The part that DID, though, was starlight. And yeah, he needs it. Feeds it desperately. But it... doesn't exactly support his human half, you know? Doesn't anchor him. Make him want to eat and sleep, be human and alive, connect with people.

Space makes him ghosty.

Dani ultimately convinces him, after spraying him down with a hose and shoving a cheeseburger down his face, to move to Metropolis with her. They get ALIENS! Have Aliens HEROS! BIG DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTS. With lots and LOTS of people who need help! Plus? Gotham is within a day trip!

And UNLIKE Gotham, the Ecto isn't RANK AF in Metropolis.

Seriously, it smells like a burst sewer pipe over there.

Danny agrees. Can totally afford a modest lil place thanks to some patents. Makes one HELL OF A SCENE moving in. With his giant, ominous, futuristic, weirdly day glow green glowing bank of super computers... in this, "we love our Alien Blorbo" Metropolis.

Cause Green and Glowing sure ain't welcome round these parts! No SIR! Somebody call the COPS!

Danny isn't even half way through, when Superman lightly touchs down, a forced grin plastered to his face. The "please, God, not another Rogue. Not a new one. Please!" all but RADIATING off him.

Hmmmmm....

Danny... kiiiinda forgot not everyone was as "I see fuckin NOTHING, man" as Amity natives. Awkward. Welp! Fenton Oblivious Gene's, ACTIVATE!

"Oh, HIIIIIII~☆ Superman! What brings you round these parts? Gosh, it's an honor! Dani! Come meet SUPERMAN!"

Clark knows what he's doing. Danny knows, Clark knows what he's doing. They are both from the Midwest. They ain't gonna break first! You kidding? Clark still has to ask. Inserts himself by INSISTING on helping. A welcome to Metropolis! Ha ha! (How long we gonna lie for, kid? How long? I can do this all day.)

Clark? Learns that Danny has become ABSURDLY knowledgeable about terraforming, spacecraft, aerospace engineering and anything else related to Space Survival. Thanks to... his "games".

Which Clark is PRETTY sure? Are creatively set up, alien, training programs. Cause both of the Fentons are DEFINITELY at least partially non-human. But, eh. Who is he to judge? The "mad scientist" vibe, though... THAT is his to judge. Which he does.

Routine check ins!

And pasta bakes. Because good lord, Fenton, you are skin and bones! And? If it helps with both Watchtower maintenance AND some killer articles? Because Danny is a fountain of Space related knowledge who loves to share it? That's between Clark and the weird, semi-feral, gremlin he's adopted! (Yes, honey, he KNOWS Danny is a grown man. But I did it with BRUCE-)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[dashoulinas-fandom-dump]

Ok, everyone's been doing this lately, so I also need myself one of those.

Haven't been able to start doing anything for way too long now. I AM planning on starting going through my to do list now on the weekends, but 3 hours in my day I haven't been very successful about it... So some extra motivation would be extremely helpful right now.

Ok, let's do this:

10 notes I'll do my Finnish Duolingo for today (5 lessons)

20 notes I'll start doing some stupid music assignment that'll take 20 min max what even is the point of music assignments?!

40 notes I'll start the other a bit bigger and less stupid music assignment I still don't get the point of music assignments

70 notes I'll write a review of a random piece of media (most likely GO, anybody surprised?) for English class

100 notes I'll clean my room

200 notes I'll complete my part of the Economics presentation (due on Monday)

400 notes I'll start writing my Economics essay (also due on Monday)

700 notes I'll go ahead and learn Finnish for 2-3 hours cos I really need to and I haven't been doing it for a month already so every time I have the online lesson I have no idea what those guys are talking about

950 notes I'll go for a walk (and may or may not buy myself some chocolate)))

1000 notes I'll go to sleep early (like 22:00 early)

All tasks before the cut are all more or less due on Monday

1200 notes I'll learn some Maths I've been putting off for way too long (it's not school work but still. I'm getting dumb without it)

1500 notes I'll start researching for universities for my future studies

1900 notes Do a presentation about the them for sharing in class (why do we have to do this?!)

2000 notes I'll start finally doing my research practice essay task (first part of which was due a month ago😭) (I did confess to the teacher tho, and she said it's not a big deal now, because it's not even graded, but it is for my own good because next year it will be very much graded)

5000 notes and I'll read the book we have to read for the exam and start getting ready to tell the teacher something coherent for 10 min straight on the exam day (I don't think I'll be physically able to do it, I'll start asphyxiating on the second minute of the speech (not that I have breathing problems, but the social anxiety does things to me))

Idk is that the appropriate amount of notes for each task?....

[jasminsstories]

[01:22 am]

pov: you want to wait until zayne comes home, but he works overtime again. when he comes home he finds you asleep already.

fluff. just pure soft fluff. use of pet names (angel, love). zayne x reader

your tired eyes wandered to the top left of your smartphone screen where the numbers of the current time was displayed. “seems like zayne is working overtime again huh”, you muttered to yourself and a yawn left your mouth. your fingers opened the message from him earlier that day where he wrote how we wanted to come right to your place after he is done working. those were the last words he left you. it seemed like the cardiologist got too busy right after. you didn’t even realize how your heavy eyes closed on their own while you read the message again and your phone display darkened right afterwards.

you didn’t know what exactly woke you but you noticed a shifting on the bed and a rustling of the bed sheets. “mhmn..?”, you turned on your back and managed to crack your eyes slightly open. however due to the darkness of the room you couldn’t see or make out anything. “go to sleep again, angel”, you heard a familiar low voice whisper and the warmth of a hand caress your cheek, “sorry, i didn’t want to wake you up.” your drowsy eyes closed again in relaxation, because you were now certain who the person next to you was. so you just leaned your head into his hand and rubbed your cheek slightly against it with a soft sigh, “zayne.. you late.” your sleepy brain was not quite able to form a coherent sentence, but the chuckle from your lover revealed that he couldn’t care less and probably even found it adorable. “i got a sudden emergency operation and it took longer than expected”, the raven haired doctor answered and that’s when he made out your phone right next to you, laying there discarded. carefully he picked it up to put it to safety on your bedside table. you could feel the warmth of his body loom over you while he did this. “…you waited for me?” “mhmm.. yeah” “i didn’t want to make you wait, i’m sorry” you could already imagine his furrowed eyebrows and the apologetic gleam in his orbs behind your closed eyes, so you just shook your head and reached your arms upwards in hopes to find his body. you were lucky and without hesitation you enclosed his broad form to pull him towards you. he let out a surprised sound and instinctively quickly propped his hands against the mattress to prevent his weight completely fall onto you. “doesn’t matter- you are here now”, you mumbled and nuzzled your nose into his hair. a fond smile spread across zayne’s lips and he felt how his exhausted body absorbed the warmth and comfort you provided him even when you were half asleep. slowly he shifted his weight to lay down beside you, snaking his arms around your body to completely engulf you in a hug. you felt his familiar smell and warmth wrap around you and you immediately nestled your head against his chest. the rhythmical, strong beats of his heart, pulled you to sleep again. “i will always come back to you”, he said quietly, not sure if you were still able to hear his words. “good night, my love” zayne pressed a loving kiss on the crown of your head, before he closed his eyes and the world of dreams called him.

✨ note: this got way longer than i thought and intended to, but i’m so down bad for this man. had to get my brain rots out somehow. it’s been really long since i wrote something like this and english is not my first language so excuse me if there are mistakes or it’s a bit wonky on some ends. thinking about writing more zayne stuff in the future, but i’m not sure if there are people who would want to read these ><

[mymarifae]

can i continue introducing the world to my vision. regarding ratio's parents. because i'm so deadset on him having two mothers that i forget it's not canon and i get confused when i see otherwise

look. listen. this is a man who was raised by two very beautiful very elegant femme lesbians. he was son boy allowed. you either understand me or you don't there is no further coherent justification for this i just KNOW. that this is TRUE

(also as i blabbed on twitter: i think his moms are very, VERY loving and accepting. they nurtured his innate curiosity and laid the foundations for his insane future educational career but they never pushed the idea of the genius society of him; they just wanted him to see him grow up well, flourish, and lead a happy life. that whole mess was actually the byproduct of his teachers, tutors, and professors - all of whom he started seeing more often than his mothers by the time he was starting to poke at his first phd. he's fallen out of touch with them over the years, only calling them sporadically and seeing them at various award ceremonies he doesn't want to go to. not out of resentment or anything - more like he's just so, SO busy he barely has time to take care of himself [one of the many good lessons they imparted on him, and one he actually won't be letting go of any time soon], much less maintain old relationships and foster new ones. also, even though they never expected anything of him beyond "be good and do good," the shame and disappointment and guilt he felt when he realized nous would never turn THEIR gaze upon him still made it so hard to face them.

they aren't angry. they still love him dearly, and he is their son. they know his eccentricities and process for dealing with things better than anyone. they know he'll drift back to them, slowly, in his own way. they're patient. they're very proud of him. when the day comes that he finally does return home for a proper visit [maybe with a certain sly little blonde fox in tow], it's like he never left.)

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Death, Grief, Slight Age Gap, Life after loss, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Brother's Friend, Manic Behavior, Depression, Panic Attacks.

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

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pt2 Part Three

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The plane touched down with a soft jolt, pulling you from the haze of exhaustion and a slight anxiety. As the aircraft came to a full stop, you stared out the window at the sprawling airport. Korea was now your home - or at least, it would be for the foreseeable future.

As long as things worked out.

Slowly, you disembarked and moved through the crowded terminals, your mind racing. Not with many coherent thoughts, but thoughts none the less.

You could feel the slight stares of some people, but they looked away almost as quickly. You hadn’t been in Korea for years, and the reality of stepping back into this world was a bit overwhelming.

Especially considering last time you were just a small child, watching your brother kickstart his career. You had seen the streets and people over countless video calls, but it had been a while since you had breathed the same air as them.

You ran through the differences in cultural norms and no-no's in your head as a way of keeping busy. It would be a culture shock; but it would be one you were prepared for.

You collected your luggage and made your way to the arrival hall, the bustling noise and movement swirling around you.

You stood there only a second before your attention was drawn. Through the crowd, you spotted a familiar face, even if the one with that face wasn't well known: Mr. Kim, your brother’s old manager, waiting by the barrier.

He was still the same as you had remembered- tall and authoritative, yet his eyes softened as he saw you. "The last time I saw you," he said with a nostalgic smile, "you barely reached my knees." His hand was level to your previous height, and his eyes crinkled.

He didn't seem old, but the age in his face showed years beyond the time he had spent on this planet. The lines of stress and sadness marring his objectively attractive features.

You managed a faint smile, feeling a lump in your throat. "It’s been a while." Hajun hadn't had a proper funeral. Your parents wanted something small, and he was buried quietly. A part of you were angered at the fact. You wished your parents had given him a proper funeral, so others who knew him also could mourn, but they had amounted it to saying there would be other services held by the company and those he knew in Korea; and that his immediate family of all people were the ones who deserved the most intimate goodbye. Which is why they decided to forgo any big production and just have him buried within days of his passing.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and you searched your mind for something to say.

How do you go about things like this? Sorry for your loss? Sorry our loss?

Before you could say anything, a young man with dark hair and a warm smile stepped forward. It was Haru, one of Hajun’s group members. He hesitated briefly, giving you a look before pulling you into a gentle hug.

You instinctively shut your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent. It was a while since you had a hug, and it felt so good it was almost as if Hajun was the one holding you in his embrace.

Haru had always smelled like the flowers of his native country. You remembered the distinct cherry blossom and an earthy musk. Smelling it, it was impossible not to think of springtime breezes, and you knew as long as you lived it would be a smell that evoked a sense of peace and grounding within you, a scent that would always remain familiar.

"It’s good to see you again Hime," Haru said softly. He rested his hand on your head gently and smiled. He had referred to you as princess for as long as you could remember.

He was who you would consider Hajun's very best friend. His company was one of the more gracious ones offering substantial rest after great work- and with every holiday Hajun had been able to make it home, or every time the group was resting between comebacks and he decided to fly home, even if only for a weekend, Haru tagged along.

He had been calling you Hime even longer. The first time you had seen him on stage, dancing next to Hajun your 9-year-old self fell in love with the guy who in your eyes was as beautiful as a Prince. Even if Haru was 16 at the time.

"Juju, you met a Prince!" Your lisp due to your missing teeth was endearing, and your parents had laughed at how rosy your cheeks were as you watched Haru dry his sweat with a towel. Hajun grunted as he lifted you into his arms, then laughing as you wiggled wanting to be put down.

"I'm not a baby! He'll think I'm a baby!" You whined, perching yourself behind Hajun's leg as you watched Haru interact with a staff member. He chuckled and turned.

"Haru! Atarashī fan ga dekita to omoimasu. (Haru! I think I've found a fan)" Your eyes widened as unfamiliar words rolled off of your brother's tongue, those words causing the dark haired boy to turn in your direction. You immediately slinked back behind your brother even more, as Haru squatted down to your eye level. "Kanojo wa anata no koto o ōji-samada to omotte imasu.(She thinks you're a prince)"

He had smiled and waved. "What's your name?" You just stared and didn't answer, honestly a little shocked to how well he spoke English, little you blind to the fact that he had spent a few years of his youth in America. He gave a mock pout. His eyes bright and kind. "I didn't think Princesses were usually this shy. I guess I'll just have to call you Hime. Is that okay, Hime?"

His eyes had held that same kindness that you had first seen in them all that time ago and every time after. A type of kindness that couldn't be ignored. The followers of Eclips3 often referred to Hajun and Haru as their "spring" due to their similar demeanors. Haru being more so the start of Spring, the transition of cold to warm, and calm. While Hajun was the warmth into something a bit fierier and more energetic. The countless videos you had seen captioned "Our Spring" that captured the wholeness of their relationship made your heart ache with longing.

Another two men, Jiho and Sunwoo, stepped forward, their expressions mirroring Haru’s kindness. They also gave you warm hugs, and you could sense their familiarity. You had met them a few times maybe at most three, but they had always been friendly and welcoming, treating their beloved maknae's family as their own.

Jiho and Sunwoo looked at each other, and the older one spoke first.

"Y/N...we...we wanted to say-"

You shook your head. "You don't have to apologize or say sorry for your loss... or our loss. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's..." You felt robotic as you said those things, as if you didn't believe them yourself. "I'm just glad that while he was here, he had you guys. So thank you." Your tone wasn't rude, but it conveyed that Hajun was something that you wished to not talk about at the moment.

Mr. Kim placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We’re here for you now- to support you, Y/N. We’re your family now, just as we were for Hajun."

A surge of emotion welled up inside you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You had done so good keeping it in since you had embarked on the plane journey, so good as your feet touched the ground at Incheon. But the presence of these familiar faces, people who had known your brother and had shared moments with him, provided a strange mix of comfort and sadness, that was threatening to break down that wall.

"We should get going," Haru said, his voice gentle. "The car is waiting outside. And while I'm sure paparazzi wouldn't recognize you in quick, they'll recognize us, and I'm sure you don't want the cameras on you at this point in time."

You nodded, allowing them to guide you through the airport and out into the crisp air. You watched as a few people snapped pictures, and it felt odd to you that they had that much audacity to invade their personal lives in a time like this.

Shouldn't they at least give them time to mourn before taking pictures? It's been a little over almost two months but still.

Haru and Sunwoo stood in position to cover your face in a subtle enough way that it seemed to be accidental.

As you settled into the car, surrounded by people who had been part of your brother’s world, you felt a small flicker of hope. This new chapter was beginning with a sense of connection to your past, even if Hajun wasn’t there to walk through it with you.

As the car pulled away, you glanced out the window, taking in the unfamiliar landscape.

"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking what made you want to come to Korea...and take after...take after Jun..." Jiho asked quietly. He was sitting in the middle row with Sunwoo. He was turned slightly in his seat and so was Sunwoo.

You felt Haru tense in the seat next to you, and visibly saw Mr. Kim's shoulders grow stiff.

Your jaw twitched slightly as you stringed together the right words to figure out what to say.

Jiho took this as you being angered by the question and started to apologize, but you spoke in a firm an even voice.

"This is my gift...my...favor to him. He left things behind. No reason in letting it go to waste."

It was simple. Maybe too simple. But if you said anymore, it would be hard to explain your thought process to him. It seemed like it worked though, since rather than continue the conversation Mr. Kim changed the direction of your chatter.

"First, let me say that the company is very interested in you," He began, his voice calm but deliberate. "When the proposal was first brought up, there were mixed reactions. It’s not every day that we consider bringing the sibling of a deceased idol into the fold, especially one as beloved as Hajun. There were concerns, naturally, about how the public would react - whether it would be seen as a tribute or as something exploitative. But once we discussed it more those concerns began to fade."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with yours in the rearview mirror as if to make sure you understood the gravity of what he was saying. "The company recognizes that you’re not just Hajun’s sister; but you’re an individual with your own talents and dreams. It didn't hurt that when Hajun was alive, he tended to brag about you and your abilities a lot." That sparked a couple of smiles and laughs from the guys in the car- and even a smile from you. "They want to help you develop those talents, or teach you the skills you need to learn in order to do well, but they’re also aware of the weight of expectations that will be placed on your shoulders because of who your brother was. That’s something we’ll have to navigate carefully."

Mr. Kim paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before continuing. "Training will be intense, as it always is. You’ll be put through rigorous training. While the language training deosn't seem like it will be a big issue, we'll still have to focus on dance and vocal training, regardless of how well you think you can perform. The company will expect you to work hard, just like any other trainee. But because of your connection to Hajun, there might be additional pressure - both from the public and from within the company - to see you succeed quickly. If you adapt well, there’s a possibility you could debut within a year, maybe even sooner, depending on how fast you progress."

He glanced at the group of Hajun’s former bandmates - Jiho, Sunwoo, and Haru, who were watching you both with a mix of concern and quiet encouragement. "Your relationship with the remaining members of Eclips3 will be important," Mr. Kim continued. "The company is considering the idea of you training alongside them, possibly even joining them in some capacity. They’ve already agreed to help you with your training, especially since they know you and care about you. Sunwoo, for instance, has volunteered to assist with your vocal training, and Jiho is eager to help you refine your dancing skills whenever needed. Haru, as the one closest to you, will likely take on a sort of mentor role for you."

He hesitated for a moment, then added, his expression turning more serious - "While you most likely won’t officially debut until a year or so from now as I said, due to the special circumstances, you’ll almost instantaneously be thrown into the spotlight. Given your background and connection there’s no avoiding it. Not to mention you won’t be participating in survival shows like a lot of trainees; the company is already planning to arrange for you to appear in other media - variety shows, interviews, and even special features. They want to introduce you to the public in a way that builds anticipation and interest..." He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I want to be honest with you and say while we don’t intend for this to be exploitative, the reality is that everything in this industry is, at its core, a business. Simply put, the company agreed to this path so easily due to the amount of pull it will have to the public. Meaning more money for the. Your journey will most likely be one that is broadcasted extensively, with the story behind it being a focal point. I wouldn't even be surprised if they made a documentary off of it one day. Not for his legacy but for money..." His voice was sad, tinged with what sounded like regret. "The public will be fascinated, not just because you’re Hajun’s sister, but because of the emotional narrative that comes with it. I wished it didn't amount to this. But it all comes back to money, even in delicate situations like this."

"Regardless I admire you greatly for doing this. Because I know your intentions are pure, even if the industry's isn't. We’ll do our best to protect you from the harsher aspects of this process, but you need to be prepared for the fact that your every move will be watched closely. This journey, while deeply personal for you, will be a spectacle for others. It’s a difficult balance, but if we handle it right, it could also be an opportunity for you to share your story on your own terms. To share Hajun's story..." He took off his glasses and wiped the bridge of his shirt with his nose, giving himself a minute. "It'll be a great opportunity for you to cement his memory as something positive rather than a tragedy. To allow us to remember him the way we knew him." His voice was somewhat shaky and you turned away not wishing to see him cry. Jiho, Sunwoo, and Haru were all sitting in a deep silence, and you didn't look up in case you were to see a stray tear.

"Housing will be arranged close to the other members, so you’ll have a support system nearby." Mr. Kim's voice was back to an even enough tone as he pulled himself together. "The company understands that this is a strange and difficult situation, so they want to make sure you feel supported - emotionally, not just professionally." Mr. Kim stopped once more, as if in thought. "You’ll have access to counseling and any other resources you might need as you transition into this new chapter of your life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with both promise and the unspoken weight of what lay ahead. But there was also a sense of hope, a belief that, despite the challenges, this could be the start of something meaningful -not just for you, but for everyone who had been touched by Hajun’s legacy.

And he was right, it was an opportunity for you to shape the narrative of Hajun.

"What about you guys?" The words almost flew off your tongue, you didn't even comprehend thinking of the question. "What is going to happen with you guys?"

Jiho’s voice was low, a hint of resignation coloring his words as he explained the situation. "We’ve disbanded," he said, the finality of the statement hanging heavy in the air. "Losing two members back-to-back...losing Hajun..." His breath was soft. "None of us want to step on stage again. Music doesn't bring that same joy. If it wasn't for you, than I more than sure all of us would have completely departed from the idol life."

"We were already on hiatus after...after the scandal..." Sunwoo didn't even speak their former leader's name. "And now that we lost our maknae..." His voice held a deep affection and love for Hajun, and your heart pounded with an ache. "It was inevitable."

You nodded in understanding. Haru's voice ringing last.

"Music isn't something I enjoy anymore." He spoke in Japanese, and looked up as if he could see through the roof of the car. If he could see his best friend. "It's just a means of work to distract me."

His dark eyes met yours. "But at least it'll be with you Hime. So, I get to see a little bit of Hajun. Right Hime?" His voice was cracking and his eyes watering.

That kindness being flooded by something that mirrored your own woes. But never disappearing. No, not fully. Never fully.

Even in the quiet, aching absence of what once was, Haru still radiated a brightness that couldn’t be dimmed. Even with the knowledge of the torment he carried inside, you still selfishly basked in the compassion that encompassed him. His smile would remain as warm as ever, even if there was a subtle shadow behind it, a testament to the internal struggle against the anguish he bore in silence.

He was light. He was good. Too good.

Hajun was good. He was so good. Too good. Too good for whatever this world was.

The fandom had been right to call Hajun and Haru their spring. The love and warmth and peace and life that had radiated from both of them was like an eternal spring. Like the fresh blooming of flowers after the melting of the winter snow.

They were spring.

And Hajun's loss was like the wilting of the first cherry blossoms, their vibrant beauty fading too soon.

A death that left Haru standing alone in a season that would never fully return.

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If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

988 - USA Suicide Prevention Hotline | 24 Hours 111 - Helpline UK | 24 hours 1393 - Suicide Hotline Korea | 24 hours

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[runesandramblings]

I Just Want You

Word Count: 1400

Pairings: Fili x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Royal wedding plans begin to take their toll, but there's only one thing you require to make the day perfect.

Requested by anon so I don't have a way to tag you I'm sorry! But I hope you enjoy. 😇

“What do you think, nâtha? The lilies or the orchids?” 

You buried your face in your hands. The pounding against your temples, something that had become a familiar sensation as of late, began to worsen as you tried to piece together any coherent sentence. There were only three words that came to mind, the same three words you’d uttered countless times over the past several weeks. 

“I don’t know.” 

The joy of yours and Fili’s engagement had subsided the moment you’d broken the news to your families. With FIli being the crown prince and heir, there was no way Dis and your mother would let it be a simple affair. Invitations had already been sent out to every corner of Middle Earth, and you’d been occupied from sunup to sundown every day with planning. The dress, the flowers, the food… 

You were from a simple merchant family. The pomp and ceremony of royalty made no sense to you. Where you’d grown up, weddings were a simple affair. Most couples in your small village chose to elope rather than go through the bother of an elaborate ceremony. You’d have been more than happy to do the same. However, your mother and future mother in law had both been quick to dismiss the idea. 

“It’s no matter, dear. We have time to decide.” Your mother pulled several small scraps of fabric, ranging from the purest snow white to the creamier shades of ivory. She laid them out against the table and gestured to each. “Which color do you think for the dress? We’ve got to begin sewing soon if it will be ready in time.” 

Before you had the chance to respond, Dis laid out several different styles of gold and silver fabric beside the scraps your mother had laid down. 

“And what of the trim? You’ve got to decide if you prefer gold accents or silver. But I do suppose that would have an effect on the choice of flowers…” She trailed off, lost in her own world of thought. 

You could feel your pulse radiating against your temples as the migraine that had been forming worsened. This was the issue exactly. It wasn’t just selecting a dress. It was selecting a type of fabric, a trim, lace… And that had to coordinate with the flowers or else…

Or else what, exactly? Would the world cease to exist if the flowers and trim didn’t go together? Would Mahal himself descend from the sky if the food and the wine didn’t pair perfectly? 

You looked from where you sat at the head of the long, carved wood table to the opposite end. Fili sat on his own, silently working through a stack of parchments Thorin had given him. He hadn’t been overly involved in the plans, as your mothers had taken over almost immediately. But you’d expressed to him how stressful the process had been, and he’d decided to come sit with you for moral support. He met your gaze and gave you a gentle smile. It sent butterflies through your stomach, as it always did. He was all you needed, truly. You could get married in the same, tattered old dress he’d met you in carrying a bouquet of wildflowers for all you cared. As long as he was there, it was all you required.

“(Y/N)?” 

Your mother’s voice brought you back to the less desirable reality. She and Dis were both staring at you expectantly, the colored swatches of cloth still spread out across the table in front of you. 

“Silver or gold-”

“First, she has to decide on a shade of white. Which shade do you prefer, (Y/N)?” 

“Well it might help to decide on the accent first, then she can pick a white that goes with that.” 

As Dis and your mother began speaking over each other you buried your face in your hands once again. The pounding against your temples became rhythmic, a steady thump that seemed to grow louder and louder as their voices overlapped. You felt as though you might go mad if the pounding and the questions didn't stop soon.

“(Y/N)-” Dis started. 

“I don’t know!” You cried again, finally raising your head to look at the two of them. “I don’t know, okay? And I don’t care. Just pick a color. Whatever you both want.” 

You flung yourself back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. It was unlike you to have such an outburst, but you were exhausted. There were too many questions, too many decisions. You’d be more than happy for them to make the choices and just tell you when and where to show up on the day of. 

“And what do you want, amrâlimê?” 

The three of you turned your attention to the end of the table as Fili piped up. He’d laid his parchments to the side. His eyes were not on either of your mothers, but on you. You could see the genuine concern etched in the lines that furrowed between his brows. He knew the planning had begun to take a toll, and now he was able to see the full amount of stress that you were under. 

You felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes. 

“I just want you.” You said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your mothers exchanged shameful glances across the table, finally seeming to realize just how much they’d piled on you at once. FIli’s expression softened as he continued to look at you, his eyes never breaking away to look at anyone else in the room.

“Could you leave us for a moment?” He asked. 

Dis and your mother stood silently, collecting the fabric and other wedding items they’d strewn across the table. You felt Dis place a hand apologetically on your shoulder as she followed your mother from the room. 

Once they’d gone Fili’s smile widened. He extended his hand to you, gesturing for you to come join him at the end of the table. You stood and quickly walked around to where he sat. Once you were within his arm’s reach he grabbed you, pulling you down by your waist and plopping you into his lap. As soon as your legs touched his he stretched his face up to your neck, peppering light kisses up and down your collarbones. You giggled as his mustache braids tickled the exposed skin of your neck, his lips working their way up to plant kisses along your cheeks. He finally found your mouth and pressed his delicately against yours, making it the gentlest and sweetest kiss of them all. 

You felt a contented sigh escape your lips as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. You rested your chin on top of his head as your fingers began to slowly brush through his hair, careful as always not to disturb his perfectly placed braids. The feeling of his arms wrapped snugly around your waist had already alleviated the nervous pit in your stomach, and you wondered how it could have only been moments ago that you were stressed to the point of breaking down in tears. He was your safe place, your calm within the storm. 

“We don’t have to make it into a spectacle, you know.” He murmured into the collar of your dress. “It can just be the two of us, whenever and wherever you want.” 

“We can’t.” You said, wistfully. If only it were that simple. 

“And who says so?” 

“You’re the prince-”

“To hell with that.” He said, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “Thorin’s already given his blessing for us to skip the whole affair.” 

“But our mothers-”

“To hell with them too.” His expression quickly changed from confidence to one of fear as he looked over his shoulder. “Don’t tell them I said that.” 

You giggled again, pulling him closer to you as he nuzzled his face into your neck once more. 

“Amrâlimê, I will go get Balin right now and have him perform the ceremony in this very room.” He continued. “I don’t need the flowers or the food or the party. I just want you, too.” 

You pulled back again, just enough to look down into his eyes. He was smiling up at you, his eyes sparkling with the same joy as they had the first day you met. He was all you needed, now and forever. 

“I think that sounds absolutely perfect.” You said, brushing back a few loosened strands of his golden hair. “On one condition.”

He looked at you expectantly as you continued. 

“You have to tell our mothers.”

nâtha - daughter

amrâlimê - my love

[merakiui]

Had a thought I wanted to share (CW for noncon+Yan stuff)

Idia being so obsessive and horny and making a sex doll that looks just like his darling, and using an enchanted onahole to ensure it feels exactly like them - even reacting and tightening just like them~

The one issue is that (either on purpose or accidentally) it turns out his darling can feel everything he does to the doll.

Omg yes!! This trope works so well for Idia. Not only is he using the doll for pleasure, he’s also treating it as practice for when he (hopefully) gets to fuck the real version sometime in the future. Even though creating something like this is no sweat for a genius like him, Idia feels like he’s really outdone himself. As synthetic as everything is, it’s still very soft and lifelike, functioning just like his darling beloved’s tight hole. He uses it more times than he'd like to admit, but he just can't help it. It feels too good, and there’s no way he's confident enough to talk to you in person, much less even broach the idea of dates, relationships, or sex. So this doll will have to do for now, and it certainly works wonders. It’s so warm and wet inside, and the doll's hole hugs his cock so snugly. He likes it even more because he can dress the doll up in your clothes just to pretend it's really you underneath him.

Unfortunately, there’s more to the doll than he knows.

You’re in class when it first happens, lazily scribbling away in your notebook while Professor Trein drones on about magic history. It’s the strangest, most invasive sensation. One minute you think you might fall asleep out of sheer boredom, and the next you’re jolting awake when a slick finger traces along your hole before sliding in. You’re staring hard at your notebook, wondering if that really just happened. But then another finger is easing in, and now these phantom fingers are beginning to work you open. Thankfully, that’s all that occurs. You manage to escape class right as the bell rings, your lips bloody from how roughly you bit down to silence your noises, hurrying to the washroom to see what's causing this. The minute the door shuts behind you, though, is when the fleshy head of someone’s cock is prodding at your hole. You can't see it, but it’s there and it's pushing inside, inches stretching you so slowly before whoever it is swiftly bottoms out, promptly knocking all coherent thoughts from your brain.

You’re fucked silly against the wall by an invisible dick and it takes all of your restraint not to make the lewdest sounds you can possibly produce. By the time this person has finished using you, your hole is spattered with cum and you think you might just faint from the overstimulation. Luckily for Idia he has a surprising amount of stamina when he’s in the mood. Unluckily for you, you’re going to be spending the rest of that day bedridden for…reasons. :) and he always cums inside no matter what, so you’ll be very exhausted and very filled by the end of everything.

[after-witch]

Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: No more shows, yes, that’s what he says. He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Some musings from Ren Hana after the The Show Must Go On DLC (survival ending).

Word Count: 1600ish

notes: kidnapped reader, medical including eye prosthetics discussion, descriptions of past violent abuse and injuries including eye injuries

You poor, pretty thing, lying there in a hospital bed, tubes in your arms and an incessantly beeping machine monitoring your vitals at your side.

You look a mess.

You look lovely.

The wounds from your lively (and, he must admit, very well received--well, until the end) triple show debut are vibrant and gorgeously ugly.

Vivid stitches covered in ghastly looking iodine on your stomach, where you’d sliced your belly right open; antibiotic creams slathered over your puncture wounds; an etching of various cuts and bite marks… yours and his. Not to mention your eye.

You’ll live, you dear thing. Scarred and bruised, inside and out--but you’ll live.

He’s not an amateur. You’ll have good medical care here. He can afford it, although it’s not often used for more than employee check-ups and keeping merchandise alive long enough to be sold or entertain his streams before the big finale. Or for the occasional creative request via a high-paying donor on a stream.

But for you? He’ll make sure to use every resource to get you back into shape. Back to where you were--or more accurately, he supposes, back to where you’re going to be from now on. 

You wake up every now and then. Not to the fullest degree. You are pumped full of drugs, though, and he’s not terribly surprised at your lack of coherency. It’s cute, in a way, though he’s looking forward to enjoying you when you’re more alert. More alive. 

How alive did you feel, in those last moments before he stopped the stream? How aware were you that he meant to kill you? That you were going to die in that dark room while people paid to watch and stroked their cocks and salivated over watching the last bit of light leave your eyes? 

He couldn’t do it. No, no, that’s not right. He could have done it. He’s done it before, to others more and less worthy than yourself.

But he didn’t want to do it and therefore, he didn’t have to do it. You reminded him of that. Chat had power, sure, everyone with enough money had power. But he was in control. It was his stream. His life’s work. And you were his property, not theirs. 

Did you know that one question would change everything?

Fuck the people watching the stream. They could have someone else, and they would eventually--logistically, he needed to make it up to them soon, a token apology made in some other poor pretty thing’s blood.

But not you.

Never you. 

He smiles, just a little. It’s easier now to think about the future, in the sterile clinic room, away from the rush of the showroom with its screens, the stampede of feet when he pushed the call button, the tangy smell of your blood and the sight of you mangled and delirious beneath him. 

The rush of the moment has passed, leaving behind a slow, thoughtful ebb in its wake. 

You’re not the first merchandise he’s kept for himself. You’re not even the first person he’s taken a liking to and taken home with the intent to keep forever. And oh, that first one… he hasn’t thought about them in a while, the one that he kept for as long as he could, until they were gone.

You remind him of them, in some ways. Maybe in the way your voice softened when you asked him who gave him his scars; maybe in the pitiful way you begged him, sweet and sniffling, to cut out your eye because you knew it was best.

Maybe in the way you clenched around him, desperate, eager, hating the pain but embracing it because there was nothing else you could do. 

But, ah… he’s being nostalgic again. He lets one claw idly trace your forearm, following the line of the IV. That person is gone. Dead. Tragic and all that, and some part of him will always miss them. But there’s no point in dwelling on it, just as he’s long since moved on from Strade and his amateur basement of horrors. 

Years ago, he might have thought: what would Strade think of me now? But now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter one single bit what Strade would think of him now, or what Strade might have thought of him then. Strade was nothing. 

He had created his own world, far surpassing anything Strade could have dreamed of; Strade had some talent (he has scars to prove it) but what was talent without ambition? Without creativity, allure?

Anyone could get people to pay money to watch you kill some helpless fuck you snatched off the street.

But it took talent to do what he did, something far beyond basement videos with basic tools and a fabric mask. 

It was a talent he had in spades, carefully crafted through trial and error. Lots of errors. But what business, what world, existed without them? 

But you do make him reminisce, don’t you?

And then your hand is on his arm. Weak, fingers trembling as you try to grip him, and gain his notice.

This time, your eye isn’t quite as muddled, and you direct your gaze at him rather than flitting about the room in hazy confusion.

He watches as your throat works, swallowing, and he can practically hear the inside of your dry mouth sticking as you force open your lips.

“Is it… is it time for another show?”

He blinks down at you, his lips set in a frown. 

Your dry lips tremble when he doesn’t answer. The heart rate monitor speeds up, and he glances at it--faster and faster, like a little rabbit--before resting his hand on your forehead. The beeping slows down just a little, and your eye looks up at him, darting across his face, desperate and terrified.

“No,” he says, with a somber finality, and the words are for himself as much as they are for you. “No more shows.” 

Your smile is twitchy and slow, and your eye blinks low and lidded. The drugs want to put you to sleep. You want to stay awake. You’ll lose this battle, but he likes to see that you still have the will to live in you. It will come in handy. 

A clawed finger traces your cheek, edging around the white medical patch covering your missing eye. He can see your head try to flinch, but you’re either too drugged to fully do it or you’re stopping yourself out of worry that he won’t like it.

Either option pleases him. 

Your eye isn’t as bad as it was, but it will need more healing before you can wear a prosthetic, or so the physician said. 

He’d never looked much into them before--prosthetic eyes, that is--but as he discovered during a late night bout of phone shopping, there’s a wide array of options nowadays. Exotic styles--cats and snakes and everything in between--and fun colors and pretty add-ons, like glitter or shimmer or rainbow holographics. 

The thought of your false eye staring up at him in some impossibly beautiful hue, accenting a lovely outfit he’s dressed you in, makes him a little giddy, and he hopes you’ll be excited about them, too. Maybe in time you’ll be gazing at a selection of eyes laid out on a vanity, choosing between them like you might have done before all this with lipsticks and eyeshadows. 

Will you hold up the eye you chose for his approval, a trembling smile on your face? It would be nice to see. 

Though he’s not stupid--not as naive as he might have been, if he’d met you twenty or so years ago. You’re not going to immediately jump for joy that the man who orchestrated your kidnapping, tortured you, jacked off into your eye, pulled out said eye, and almost had you yank out your own guts got you a pretty prosthetic.

No, no… not immediately, anyway. That will take time and work and training. Thankfully, he has plenty of experience with that. 

He smiles, just a little, watching as your remaining eye fights so hard to stay open; battling against the drugs keeping you sleepy and compliant for the first step in your healing.

You’re mumbling something, and he’s not really listening to the words, until he sees tears in your eye and you repeat yourself. The words come slowly. He’ll remind the nurse to wet your mouth soon.

“You pr…promise?”

He leans forward, cupping your chin, encouraging you to keep going.

Your voice is a whimper and it’s just so damned cute. Your remaining eye is wide and those pretty tears stick to the lashes like dew. He could kiss them off, he truly could, if he wasn’t sure getting anywhere near your remaining eye right now might send you into a panic.

“You promise no… no more shows?” 

“No more shows,” he says again, gentler this time, stroking your hair. The tension in your muscles gradually relaxes from his touch, or perhaps the IV drip has given you a fresh dose of painkillers on schedule. It doesn’t matter. The effect is the same. 

No more shows, yes, that’s what he tells you. 

He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Life does not exist without it. His business does not exist without it. He does not exist without it. 

There is always give and take, push and pull, pain and pleasure. None can exist without the other. 

It’s a truth you’ll come to learn, as he did. And he can’t wait to bring you to that truth himself. 

[entropyvoid]

So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.

He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.

And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.

Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.

We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.

And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”

And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.

Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?

[aihoshiino]

chapter 161 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 18

Aqua Hoshigan Status: For the future

Never has an OnK chapter gone from It's Hoshinover to We Are Oshi no Back quite as hard and fast as this one. I have issues with this chapter in terms of what it implies about the story's overall structure and the fact that it sort of ruins 153-4 by association but this chapter's back half is so fucking good and the chapter itself works so well in isolation that much like 153-4, I kind of uhhh don't care about the structural issues because the story's heart is, for the most part, not just intact but beating harder and more passionately than it has in a long time.

To get what I don't like out of the way, the story seems to have settled on Super Evil Serial Killer Mastermind Kamiki as his final form characterization with some helpful Tsukuyomi exposition to just straightforwardly Tell Us things the manga probably should have spent some of the last 70something chapters Showing Us about Hikaru. The basic idea of Hikaru being some sort of serial killer so dedicated to upholding Ai's legacy that he kills women with the potential to surpass her was more or less always where I expected his character to land and this settling of his character does at least preserve what I think is the most important thing: that he genuinely loved Ai and his bent towards villainy only came after her death.

What I don't love as much is that this chapter seems to continue leaning into Uber God Manipulator Mastermind Kamiki like last chapter. I already talked at length about my issues with this framing in my previous chapter review so all I'll reiterate here is that the story's attempt to frame Hikaru as being equally or even more culpable for the actions of Nino and Ryosuke fall entirely flat to me, especially when the manga itself does such a pisspoor job of actually explaining how or why Kamiki was able to control and/or predict their actions to the extent that he supposedly did. And ESPECIALLY especially given that Nino and Ryosuke seem to have already been dangerously obsessed with Ai by the time they approached him.

In general, Hikaru's character is honestly just so inconsistent at this point that making any sense of his actions feels fruitless. If I really dig into what's going on, I can infer that maybe he fell into the same trap as Aqua by overcompensating for his trauma-induced helplessness by becoming overly controlling and guess that his fucked up trauma response to Ai's death combined with those terrible words Kindaichi gave him at Airi's funeral lead him down he road he's traveling now. I can even extrapolate that Aqua showing him the DVD message in 153-4 pushed Hikaru to this extreme and now that he has nothing to lose, he's lashing out at his children too - though, it should be noted, that the manga still hasn't actually established what Hikaru's culpability is in Nino's attempt on Ruby's life, outside of Aqua saying "well you didn't use your psychic powers to perfectly predict nino's actions so it's on you".

But like - this is all stuff I'm having to infer and extrapolate and guess, reverse engineering logic from our end point in an attempt to create a stable foundation for this characterization. The manga has done such a poor job of properly establishing Hikaru both as an antagonistic force and as a consistent character that I feel like I'm trying to assemble a coherent image from two different puzzle sets with all the fucking corner pieces missing and that's with Crow Girl looking into the camera and Explaining Him to me.

And listen, I am a bitch who LOVES to infer things. One of my absolute favourite pieces of fiction of all time ever is Umineko no Naku Koro Ni, a mystery story that literally does not contain any straightforwardly explicit, textual confirmation of the culprit's identity or motives because it believes so strongly that you, the reader, are smart enough and empathetic enough to put in the time and effort necessary to understand it regardless and it deeply, deeply values being able to give you that experience. But OnK feels less like it's intentionally encouraging me to think hard and enjoy the process of putting my head and my heart to work - it feels like it's leaving its homework unfinished and letting the reader do the actual hard work of sewing up the internal logic.

I probably won't talk much more about Kamiki this chapter cos I'd just be saying all this shit over and over but I really just am struggling to understand from a perspective of authorial intent what the vibe is even supposed to be. Like I mentioned in a previous ask, if this is where Kamiki's arc is reaching its conclusion then it means that the Movie Arc was essentially a whole-ass waste of time in and out of universe. Blech. Hate that.

Also, before I move on, I don't want to leave this just implied - making Kamiki explicitly a CSA victim and then ending his arc on Aqua (and implicitly the narrative) dismissing him as being too broken/corrupted to be saved is a really major misstep that I think represents a huge black mark on OnK's handling of CSA as a topic. The idea of an eternal defilement or an unfixable core wrongness in the self is already something real life CSA victims struggle with in the process of unpacking their trauma and having our likable and supposedly morally superior protagonist espouse this unchallenged in a work as prominent and relevant as Oshi no Ko is irresponsible bordering on dangerous. It's incredibly disappointing that after all the care Aka and Mengo seemingly took in handling this topic that it was whiffed so badly at the last second.

ANYWAY!!! Now all the beef's been dealt with, we can cleanse our palettes and move onto everything else I liked which was… basically everything else in this chapter!

Admittedly, Aqua's overall arc is still suffering from us being kicked out of his head from like 123 onwards for no real apparent reason and while 150 was a welcome refresher on where he's at in this part of the story, it still feels a bit like the story is prioritizing preserving the surprise factor of its twists over making these surprises feel earned. Compare it to volume 1 - you are basically told exactly what is going to happen to Ai, especially in the manga when Saitou and Gotanda outright say as much - but her death is still incredibly impactful and upsetting. I think this chapter is very effective, but could've been a lot moreso if we'd spent more time in Aqua's head leading up to it.

THAT SAID… If the intention of keeping us out of his head was to recontextualize Aqua's behaviour across the past ten or so chapters in this new light, I don't hate it as much as I might have. I initially took issue with what felt like the story off-screening and not addressing the resolution to Aqua's suicidal ideation so whipping back around to prove that it was still very much present puts some particular Aqua moments over this past volume into a very different light. As some people pointed out, Aqua missing Kana's pitch - literally dropping the ball in responding to her feelings - and his wide-eyed look of alarm in 151 seemed very ominous omens for the success of her confession and that beat of him covering his face when Kana approves of his dream… very incheresting knowing Aqua was still struggling with 'love or revenge' at this point.

Most interesting of all to reconsider is Aqua breaking down in tears in Miyako's arms in 155 when she addresses him as her son for the first time. At the time it read like catharsis but now I can't help but wonder if this was Aqua grieving for something he desperately wants but thinks is out of his reach.

i do have to say though. i get the general vibe of this plan and think it works fine as the apex of aqua's self-sacrificial protectiveness for the people he loves but how is being the daughter of a serial killer somehow any less scandalous for her career than being the sister of someone who killed one dude. does aqua think they just won't notice that kamiki happens to be their biodad or something. wasn't that the whole point of the movie. goofy ass plan.

What really saves this whole scenario is the emotions at play, though. This really does feel like Aqua at his most Aqua in a really long while and this chapter has so much love and respect for his life as Aqua and the bonds he has formed as a result. The dreams Aqua lays out are so agonizingly simple, too - he wants to pursue the career he finds rewarding. He wants to date the girl he likes. He wants to accept Miyako as his mom and Himekawa as his brother and to make things right with Akane after hurting and using her. He wants to see Ruby achieve her dream and be there to support her when she does.

But Aqua's always considered his dreams impossible, hasn't he?

I fully admit; I got spoiled with the full page spread of Aqua stabbing himself way in advance of the chapter and initially hated it as a twist. But with the full chapter as context and the sheer weight of Aqua's longing to just fucking live and find joy, it's not just effective but absolutely gutwrenching. It is the synthesis of Aqua's series-long battle to choose love or revenge and it resonates perfectly because it has never been one or the other for him - Aqua's revenge has always been rooted in the fact that he loves others so wholly and completely and hates himself so utterly that he thinks sacrificing himself to preserve their futures is the only path for him to take. It's the culmination and final release of the suicidal ideation Aqua has been dealing with since he was four years old and like Ai's tragedy before him, there's a horrible sense that maybe there really was no other way this could've gone.

Aqua being the character who actually takes the knife also firmly cements him as Ai's narrative echo in the text which has me barkin and howlin because it's what I've been saying all this time. Not just that, but so many of Aqua's expressions in this chapter pointedly and deliberately echo Ai's after she was stabbed. Not just that, but Aqua's achingly simple dreams echo Ai's own heartrendingly simple regrets - all the two of them ever wanted was to be happy with the people they love.

This also reframes the story's prior establishment of Ruby as paralleling Ai and seems to place the twins in the position of echoing not Ai in her entirety but Ruby as 'Ai of B-Komachi' and Aqua as 'Ai Hoshino'. This was actually something I outlined in one of my very first meta posts on the series, but I think making it more specific to 'Ruby as Ai the idol' and 'Aqua as Ai the human', this actually gives Ruby's arc in relation to Ai a bit of breathing room. Don't get me wrong, everything I've said about her post-BH writing being underbaked and inconsistent is still the case, especially when it comes to how confused the story is on whether Ruby is her own idol or New And Improved Ai 2.0 but giving it less ground to cover helps in terms of her writing no longer being spread quite as thin.

Speaking of Ruby, that beat of her seeming to react or sense something is up the moment Aqua takes the stab. 'Something happened to my loved one far away and I just Feel It' is a trope I'm always a sucker for and I really dig it here.

"The public don't care about the truth, so let's tell them a lie" is such a crazy hard sentiment to go out on too. Holy fuck.

There go our boys…!!! Quite a few people predicted they might go over the edge when Aqua showed up in his Mephisto fit (Mefitsto) and I'm interested to see if we get any parallels to the ED's imagery in the next few chapters. Overall, though, I'm really excited for where things are going - I don't think Aqua will die, but I do have some theories about what might happen. I can't think of a more traditional misogi purification experience than the middle of the ocean in late December, after all…

No break next week! Woohoo! While the delay of episode 12 means we won't be getting them on the same day, that is the same week S2 of the anime will be concluding and Aka does like lining up his bombshells with the anime. So who knows what we'll see.

seriously tho aqua. everyone already knows kamiki is you and ruby's biodad. HOW IS THIS ANY BETTER THAN HER BEING THE DAUGHTER OF A SERIAL KILLER AS IT ALREADY STANDS

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

Greetings, i hope you're doing good🤍

Can i please request ROTTMNT brothers with their little sister?

Type: hc, platonic, hurt/comfort.

Scenario: it's about little sister reader who had been in a relationship - since she's the same age as Mikey - but she got cheated on and dumped so once her family knows - *cough* thanks to Donnie and his trackers *cough* - they go get revenge for their heart broken little sister.

(If it's okay with you can you add future Leonardo acting like the oldest brother/father to reader? It's okay if you don't want to, no pressure)

❝ home is where your heart is. ❞

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ − ⌗ 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❝l 𝓪/𝓷: the wayyyyyy, i actually feel kinda baddddddd, for the fool that had the audacity. to even consider - much less f o l l o w through, with cheating on THE. ✋ Hamato [Name] ................. *crickets chirping* .... nah, no i don't. HAHAHAAA (also i am so so sorry this is so late- you sent this in to me LAST YEAR....... 😀............. *runs off bawling*)

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | aiight. to summy this entire shindig up: i feel sorry for the sucka that did you so wrong. because lemme tell you right now babygirl lah– you. you? you, are the most estimable treasure. the cherished jewel of the Hamato Clan. whoever this joker is, just know, they fumbled the bag DEVASTATINGLY HEAVY. oh, the agony is unimaginable. unimaginable, i say!

kinda like . . . how you felt that day.

numb,

yet every nerve ending felt like it'd been cauterized – an open wound burned closed.

the same way you'd burned your heart shut, sloppily, hurriedly, with the same grace as you'd gathered your dignity as soon as you laid eyes on your once-beloved,

. . . and their new one.

THAT DAY you come home from up top, eyes red and puffy, heartbreaking whimpers streaming from your lips as you stumbled through the main entrance. –where had your heart gone?

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | in my professional opinion (*mocking hyena laughter echoing through the trenches*) : emotional pain, is unarguably, the worst kind of pain one can go through.

by fate, by coincidence, by the supreme pizza maker in the sky − all of your siblings were joined together in the main living room the moment you came home.

it'd be later on that you'd find out that each one of their sibling senses were tingling. it's exactly why they all coincidentally commence a living room rendezvous – which in of itself wasn't odd! it just became a tragic thing very quickly.

you didn't know whether to be relieved or even more devastated.

i concur you'd decide on a secret third thing −

when the previous relaxed vibe was wiped clean as soon as you'd stepped in and everyone caught wind of your devastation immediately, leaving a cold backwash of worry and alarm.

mikey was the first to reach you. when quickly followed by the other three, voices overlapping, all in varying tones but all uniform in inquiring 'are you okay?' . . . well. *blows heavy breath* you couldn't help the utter anguish that crashed into you in a relentless wave. being in a familiar and safe environment allowed your mind to slow down to a coherent level, and therefore allow what you witnessed to really sink in . . . you collapsed. metaphorically and physically.

"hermana? n/n, hermana, hey- hey hey- shhhh, what happened, what happened—?" leo, for all the panic that was pumping through his bloodstream, tried his best to comfort you: his foremost reaction to when you were in pain or discomfort of any kind. raph was a mess above all three of you; having previously been checking for wounds of any kind, he cringed back instantly when your cries only got louder. for a split second he was horrified he had hurt you, but a once-over showed that it . . . blessedly wasn't that? then- what . . .? donnie hovered nervously, eyes wide and shiny but even then, his hands were outstretched to you. reactive instinct. like he wanted to pull you - his only little sister - into a hug of sorts, but didn't know if it'd be received. –yet you clung to mikey with all you could hold yourself up to right then. even though he himself had no clue what was going on, he held you close and tight, tears of his own burning behind his eyes at the sight and sound of your wailing. "[n-name]? sisi, what–?" "t-they broke up with me," you bawled, your own words folding you over in despair once more. the room instantly got colder. no voices besides your own were heard. "they, th-they dumped me," you gasped, choking with hiccups, "a-and they, th-they were w-with someone e-helse! an- another per, hhu, person!"

seeing you in the aftermath of such an affair nearly killed all of your siblings.

you were so devastated that it just, broke their hearts. almost as much as yours.

you weren't like yourself.

and sure, that's to be expected!

i mean, it was your first ever relationship − your first everythings concerning intimate romance.

(well, that can happen in one's teenagehood, more or less.)

and to have what you'd thought was a beautiful bond, just.. flushed down the drain? just like that?

tha shii hurteded mayn, ngl. 😔✊

justice for [name] hamato, seriously. tf is wrong with people and dumping one of a kind gems??

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | there are five stages of grief, even after a breakup. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance.

and though it's a messy, painful time for you – your family is there with you through it all.

mikey (bless him) is of course, the one who assists in you recognizing all these stages and is an immense aid for caring for your delicate emotional state.

also helps that he's practically your twin. i mean, c'mon: ever since you both were tots, you were inseparable.

dare you say he knows you better than you know yourself. and that'd go even without his impressive emotional depth.

"you're amazing." he whispers. under your shared blankets and the dead of night, in contrast to the cacophony of invasive voices in your mind, his voice connected to your conscience buried beneath the mental rubble and held taut like a string of fate. no, is what you want to say. but you don't. you can't. because deep down, you know your brother is right. that all of them are right. mikey sits up in your shared hammock, the one used for special occasions, and tugs you up with him. he presses his forehead to yours and it's no secret that his gaze is made of fire. but instead of burning right through you, leaving you to shrivel up and disintegrate, to wallow in the wake of its aftermath – it's warm. it's light. "say it." "'you're amazing,'" you drawl; it's the clearest you've spoken in days. your pseudo twin blinks, eyebrow ridges met to his invisible hairline. a moment passes. two. then mikey snorts, quickly followed by you, and before you know it you're both dissolving into a mushy pile of giggles and obnoxious snorts. it was gleeful and euphoric and by the end of it, mikey is clinging to you like a koala, overjoyed. and you let him. it felt heavenly to laugh like this again. to smile.

as for your other brothers,

i can imagine Leo dragging you into self-care sessions at random.

i would say nights but really, with you guys' schedule, it could be for any time at all aksjhhd. nights are generally reserved for patrols and on the town's !! self-care is all day, every day !!

painting your nails; smoothing a face mask with care from his esteemed varietal top-notch collection on you as well as himself; stashing up a whole bunch of snacks, pizza, candy and comics (he makes sure to get your go-to orders + whtv you may be craving in the moment); turning on some fairy lights and happily binges all your favorite movies/series with you.

he'd give you tight hugs & make a bunch of well-timed jokes to get you into a better mindset on your gloomier healing days — but he can be serious as well !!

and when that happens, it's usually accompanied by heartfelt words and him tucking you against his plastron, like he could shield you from all the monsters and bad, evil things of this world.

(he'd always damn sure try.)

for all of his annoyingness, you mean the world to him and if losers like your,

🤢 ex 🤮 can't see that—

🗣THAT'S THEIR EFFIN' PROBLEM. ALL THEIR LIFE. NOW ISN'T IT??🗣

ahh one way or another, your other two dumpling brothers get lumped into the soup of self-care too !!

they do it for you, [name]. even if they don't always really want to,

they do it for you. 😤

Raph is so sweet. as your eldest brother I feel like he'd feel somewhat responsible for your heartbreak, but you get reassured that it's not your fault, and you reassure him that it's not his either. (please be patient with his logic, he'll get there eventually 😮‍💨😅) and in the aftermath he's spoiling you absolutely rotten.

carrying you everywhere (if that's whatcha dig.) getting you whatever you want: snacks, food, books, stuffies . . . anything man, he's already got it. and he cuddles you at night, giving you gentle shell rubs and churring deep in his chest — it never fails to lull you to sleep. 🥹 worked then, works now.

Donnie is a constant presence. He's not good at this "emotional stuff", or so he claims, but Don's the one who you subconsciously think of for a gentle, solid place to just be safe and be. not for distractions and laughter like Leo, not for being overly coddled and doted on like Raph, but... to just. Exist.

To be grounded.

Brought back to a steady surface.

ironically, it's the most sorting out of your emotions that you do in Donnie's presence: the most emotionally constipated of all your siblings c:

& he gives surprisingly good advice when you ask for it!!

but here's the thing.

Donnie always believed nobody was (or ever will be) good enough for his little sister, and this just solidifies it.

"Trash, everywhere."

"Donnie please—"

so ya might want to either retreat to a different mindset when this comes about or just don't take it to heart. there are wonderful suitors out there !! this one was just a bad rep. 🥹

(don't worry! dr. delicate touch elegantly exits stage left. don't mind the path of fire left in his wake! it's simply protocol. 😇)

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | you know the mainstream energy that all siblings carry? when they get annoyed with you but the second anybody else tries you ��� they're out for blood?

your

🤢 ex 🤮

never stood a chance.

donnie had it alllll handled that exact night.

he was slinking off and typing away furiously at his little tech-wrist, even as raph cradled you

even as leo quickly made up the bedroom with all the combined blankets and pillows and stuffies throughout the lair

even as mikey clung to you with big, watery eyes and tried his best in reassuring you (he might've been more devastated than you about the situation ngl ✋🏼)

and while donnie hovered, he was working.

y'all should know homeboy by now —

he is always working.

i imagine all of them would wait until you're sufficiently distracted, and that's where your sister and dad come in!

april taking you out for some one-on-one time, some fresh air, either to go for something fun around the city or back to her place for an evening in, (aaaand because your big sis needs to get her get back on your behalf too *slings bat across shoulders* —) quality time cuddles and movie night with papa splinter!! &lt;;3 : your dad is good at damage control; you're his only daughter, of course he cherishes you. plus, he raised you alongside your brothers. your very rambunctious brothers. (/lh) all things considered, i think he's a wonderful parent where it counts. he was heartbroken for you that very same night. after all, you'd cried for him like a baby, hands reaching weakly while marble sized tears dribbled down your cheeks..... he hadn't seen such behavior since your tothood.💔,

but splinter is an accomplished man. he was much more in control of his emotions and therefore acted as an anchor of sorts to you in the moment you needed it most.

he was the one to calm your brothers down and gave them all one by one tasks as he cradled your body in his arms. no matter how old or big you'd get, you'd always have a place in your dad's loving embrace. and the night your brothers plan to make their move, which would probably be a day or so after you came home, the old man took up his role and fed you milk and cake while doting. giving you his undivided attention and care whilst he strokes your head and cheeks, reminding you of how precious you are to him —

"my precious [name]," splinter says lowly, cupping your face with his small hands. his eyes are grim, but they shine with fondness as they gaze into yours. "my jade. my little shining sky. you never cease to amaze me. life is a relentless ocean, and you will sometimes be swept away by the waves and crash against the shores . . ."

he takes your chin gently, stroking just so with his thumb. "but we will not let you drown. your strength and resilience is a true testament to how valuable of a being you are, my daughter. never forget that."

" . . . m'kay, papa." you croak. you bury your face into his chest, comforted by the warmth and softness of his fur. "alright. i promise."

meanwhile, snap clip to your siblings. blending in with the night as they move with deadly swiftness and silence, moving with intention. purpose.

whether you know what they're up to or not is entirely up to you

but i think they'd go that mile in ensuring you didn't know the mapped out details of what they were planning.

because — well, y'knaur,

they didn't hold back one bit. 🙂

whether your 🤢 ex 🤮 was a human, yo'kai, it don't MATTER.

"these hands rated e for everyone" 🗣️ — the mad dogz fr.

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | a detail I won't be letting anyone forget any time soon: you're all super powered genetically augmented mutants that were initially created for the sole purpose of war and worldwide domination.

you really think your

🤢 ex 🤮

— stood a chance?

nah fam....... nah.

I wanna say your siblings would be lenient, I really do (no tf I don't LMAOAOAOA-)

but realistically, I think they'd deal some heavy damage.

whether physically, emotionally, or mentally-

because you're their sister.

their baby. their princess.

and no matter how much they may lovingly tease you, and vice versa, they ain't about to let that ish slide.

the dealing of their cards is definitely not as worse as it could've been! but bad enough to not wish it on nobody else.

I mean you've got Dr. Delicate Touch, Raph in his big burly glory, and bro is Big Mad™, April is armed with her trusty bat and a Mayhem that's ready to be sicced, not to mention the deadly disaster twins —

they're all out for blood.

ohhohooooo man, they would render your

🤢 ex 🤮

into a pile of MUSH.

there are no remains. there is no recovery. the [name] hamato protection squad takes no prisoners. they kick names and take ass, even.

Dr. Delicate Touch had no preservations. (Ion even need to get into detail for that *shudders in fear*)

Donnie has the homewrecker's information, from birth to present day, down to the very microfibers of their genetic information to what they had for breakfast that morning - and he uses it to further inflict the irreversible damage that was started from Dr DT,

Leo can be, and was, terrifying. He's a broad two-edged sword that can slice through, clean and precise - so sharp you wouldn't feel a thing until he's done with his job of sawing you asunder, splitting through every atom with lethal precision.

and Raph definitely used his height and build to the highest advantage. He's got your 🤢 ex 🤮 cornered and trembling in their boots, tail between their legs (whether literally or figuratively that's up to you c:).

now legally, I cannot tell you what they did!! ,,,

but just know that they brought you to some serious justice.

"you so much as breathe their name again," they growl, "it'll be the last breath you ever take."

they wouldn't hold back their disgust. they probably make your 🤢 ex 🤮 (I will never get tired of typing that PLSSS) feel like a worthless pile of [redacted] from words alone.

and for good reason, tbh.

your 🤢 ex 🤮 had shared space and time with your family as well.

now - whether they were close with each other is ambiguous,

but realistically speaking: if they were your partner, I'd imagine they'd all at least be tolerant of one another to a certain degree.

because, well..... your siblings value your happiness.

even if you may or may not have had to scold them countless times for any odd behavior towards your now 🤢 ex 🤮, they left you both be.

......for the most part.

you'd think the shovel talk was enough!!

but after that encounter, they wouldn't give your ex a second thought.

they weren't worth the time, and you were an absolute enchantment. not even worth whatever your 🤢 ex 🤮 had going on.

they probably wish your 🤢 ex 🤮 "a happy life" to conclude the whole ordeal sksnsjdnk

oh I just know the sarcasm from the disaster twins was dripping with venom.

left boo boo kitty SHAKING FR 💥

but it simply cements the fact!!

your 🤢 ex 🤮 just wasn't the one.

when the wound of betrayal isn't as fresh, some time down the line, Leo would probably try to make you feel better by saying this is a "canon event" and essential to your "badass character development" 😭✋ (I can't stand him y'all plss-)

and even tho Raph cuffs his shoulfer for it, it really did make you feel better.

because, you know your worth.

you know you're a catch ✨👑💞 and if anyone can't see that,

then that's simply a personal problem of theirs.

YOU DESERVE BETTER QUEEN 👑💪❣️💅🏾 THEY AIN'T NOTHING.

‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ | bottom line, no matter what. your family has your back.

it didn't matter how much time it took, and how much time it will take:

they will always be there for you.

they're not perfect but they try the most!! 😭❤️

and in the times where your brothers act like.... well, brothers (/aff),

you've got a kick-ass sister to turn to.

and she's MORE than happy to lend a helping hand and back you up in the midst of tragedy 😉

and it's with them that you really do see the situation for what it is.

did it hurt? yes.

but that's the motions of life, babe.

and you WILL rise (see what I did there? AHA-) from this stronger.

not only because you're an absolute LEGEND.

..... but also, because your family is pretty great at reminding you of that too. 🥹

headers / dividers credits !! : @chachachannah @rookthornesartistry

subject to editing after posting for grammatical corrections and polishing! :)

sniper baby I'm so excited to finally have this out for you, I hope you liked it !!! muwah muwah ❣️ good things come to those who wait. 🫂 and boy oh boy have you WAITED AND MORE. XD

© ziipzeepzop-eez all rights reserved, all reservations apply.

[wishful-thinking64]

One Hell of an Unpopular Opinion #07

I think how the Seven Deadly Sins are respected should vary depending on how sinful they are. _________

I'm going to be completely honest here. I think the Hellaverse's version of the Seven Deadly Sins are jokes due to how far off they are from their Demonolgy & Theology counterparts. With that being said, something the Hellaverse did get right is how Lust and Gluttony are often considered to be the two weakest sins out of the seven.

Lust is depicted as the weakest of the Sins because it's TYPICALLY the least malicious. As when people hear about a crime related to lust the majority will think of an infidelity having been committed. Does infidelity suck? Absolutely, you were cheated on by your partner with someone who either knew of the situation or with someone who’s in the same boat as you and didn’t know until it was too late. However, I would hope that most of us would rather hear/learn about one of our friends or family members having a partner who cheated on them over other lust filled crimes.

As for why Gluttony is seen as the second weakest out of the Sins would probably be how common it is to commit it and, again, it’s less malicious especially compared to sins like Wrath, Envy, and Pride. Think about it, you probably know at least one person in your family with a really bad habit related to overindulgence whether it be a raging alcoholic, a chainsmoker, a drug addict, or someone with Binge Eating Disorder aka BED (yes, Binge Eating Disorder is an actual diagnosis that many people have and struggle with in their day to day lives as it can cause them to eat excessive amounts of food even when they’re not hungry.) The point is, you likely know someone who has some kind of bad habit that they need to break and should get help so that they don’t end up digging themselves an early grave.

Now, back to my original point, having the Seven Deadly Sins be respected by least sinful to most sinful would make it to where we can not only get a good idea of what the Sins are like before we meet them but more importantly it establishes order and coherent world building which is what the Hellaverse’s hierarchy lacks the most. If I were to order and rewrite the Hellaverse’s Seven Deadly Sins it would be Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Mammon, Satan, Leviathan, and Lucifer.

That way lower class demons could be shown being less tense around Ozzie and Bee as they’re more approachable and sociable compared to other Sins like Satan and Leviathan. From the one image we’ve seen from the Hellaverse’s Satan, I can only assume he’s a tough bastard who would rather settle things in a good old fashioned brawl compared to negotiation. 

As for why I think a lot of demons would fear Leviathan more so than Satan is because of most how religious texts describe him as being some kind of giant sea monster (depending on the religion some say he’s a hydra, water dragon, or a water serpent) that could only be slain by God as there used to be several Leviathans but when God realized how destructive they were, he killed all of them except one. If God hadn’t interfered, the many Leviathans would’ve destroyed all of creation. 

So why did I place Leviathan lower than Lucifer when he sounds more evil than he does? Well, the answer lies within their intended purpose. Leviathan’s intended purpose was to destroy all who cross his path whereas SAMAEL’S intended purpose was to HELP not to HINDER. Leviathan was released into the ocean and was told, “Annihilate anything and everything.” Meanwhile, Samael was created and lived in Heaven as an Archangel who was instructed to assist God’s creations by watching over them, teaching them, disciplining them, and protecting them. That’s all he had to do but he threw away his title, his dignity, and LITERAL HEAVEN by letting his own hubris get the better of him. Truly, pride goeth before a fall (and apparently before a future name change.) _________

I thought that it'd only be fitting for my 7th opinion to be about the Hellaverse's Seven Deadly Sins. Also I don't hate the Hellaverse's canon Lucifer but I do think his character is a massive disappointment. There are ways to make a dastardly character likable without infantilizing or woobifiying them.